Dad says it's good for business. 'Cause your ex-Marine-daughter marrying someone she barely knows who has a girlfriend, secret life and a dislike for said daughter can only be good.
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Cleo Perich is put into an arranged marria...
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The fake laugh I do nearly chokes me, skin prickling at the sheer awkwardness as I feel the flash of some camera from a table to our right. Gleeful smile planted on my face, I stare across at my loving fiancé.
It has been a week since the commencement of the contract. During that week myself and the 'lady killer' opposite me have been frequenting the most popular cafés and restaurants in Sunset City.
He is tedious.
So far there are four questions he has taken to asking me every time we meet.
How are you?
Would you like to sit here?
Do you mind if I take this call?
Shall we leave?
Along with three mind-numbing, stellar comments.
The weather is nice.
We probably shouldn't hold hands.
The cameras are watching.
I try. Don't get me wrong; I try.
It is in his effort the problem lies- as in, he hasn't got any. Neither of us do. I tried doing the work once, I asked the questions and left feeling like an idiot when we separated.
Hopefully it hadn't looked like I wanted him. I was simply trying what was asked of me by my mother; throwing myself into it to get the best of it out.
"I'm suppose to ask about the ring," he says dismissively, without looking up from his phone. I don't relay the courtesy, staring out at the beach with my drink in my hands.
"What about the ring?" I ask quietly, watching how the water meets the shore. I'll miss that more than my family.
"Well...what do you want?"
What do I want? I want you and your family to leave my city. I want my father to grow some balls and organise a better future for the company that doesn't rely on others. I want a marriage that incorporates feelings and romance. I want that whole Nightwing-and-Rip-Hunter fiasco to be a dream.
I want the proposal, not the words 'What do you want?'.
"Diamond and amethyst," I say lightly, still not looking at him. Amethyst has always matched my eyes, my mother says.
"Sure. I'll uh...I'll get Alfred to pick it up. I'm not great with jewellery," he laughs nervously. I want a husband who can at least do some things for himself. Especially after they've just been explained to him.
