My Spy 6: Private Eye

Wealth

When we make it onto the familiar dusty road that leads up to my driveway, I feel nauseous. The whole road trip I kept telling myself that seeing Momma was not going to be so bad but as we crawled along the property line, I wondered why I lied to myself for so long.

When we get to the bottom of the driveway, I shoot my hand out and grip Ryan's wrist.
"You can't just pull on up the driveway!" I blurt out and he slows down while looking to me, "Why?"

"If she sees your truck, she won't even give me time to explain the situation. All she'll need to see is this black Tacoma and a nuclear explosion will ensue." I tell him and he sighs while pulling off the path. The truck sways as it rolls over the dipped fence line and as he drops his hands from the steering wheel, he asks, "What would you like to do then?"

"Drop me here and I'll ring when I've gotten her sedated," I tell him while going for the handle. His hand grips my shoulder, holding me back as he says, "Nuh-uh ma'am, you're not going into battle alone."

My eyes widen, "You can't possibly think I'll allow you inside. That's as obvious as your truck!"

"I ain't gonna sit out here like a coward, too afraid to face your mama's wrath Sawyer," Ryan snaps. We've had two days to come up with a game plan and now we sit here, feet away from my mother trying to put a plan of action in place.

"She's going to throw my trust fund in my face, Ryan, and accuse you of vile things. You act like it doesn't exist but she'll tell you the amount and the conditions that go with it. Are you ready to face that?" I ask him, wondering if he's ready for that piece of our marriage to finally be in the open.

"You really think after everything, your mama will think I married you for your money?" He asks incredulously.

"She'll assume my millions were a part of it," I say back and I don't miss the instant shock that consumes his handsome face. He freezes with his jaw slightly open and then shakes himself back to reality.

"Millions? What in the hell Sawyer!" He yells, throwing his hands up. Ryan never yells, at least not at me so I know I just blew his mind apart. I can clearly tell he hadn't thought he'd won the lottery when he married me.

"What did you think I was inheriting, Ryan? Why do you think my mother will think this is such a big deal?" I ask him. "Money means nothing to Sebastian but when she realizes I married you..." I stop before I say something I regret. Momma doesn't know he's currently unemployed after leaving the F.B.I. It certainly won't help his case when she discovers that detail.

"I thought you were maybe getting a couple hundred thousand. Austin always made it seem it was enough to keep y'all stable, but working was still required," Ryan explains, while running an aggravated hand through his sandy hair.

"Well the way you were avoiding it with me, I'm not surprised Austin downplayed it," I mutter. "Now do you wish to know all of it? At least all that I know?" I ask him but he continues to stare out the windshield. I watch him sigh and blink rapidly and this is when I wish Ryan didn't process everything in his head.

"I should probably hear it from you and not your mother," Ryan finally answers but it still takes a few moments before he looks at me.

I shift in my seat so I'm fully facing him and answer, "Between Tilly and the Sweeney's I'll get a little over 8 million. Austin and I now share Tilly's beach home in North Carolina and I'll also inherit some of her jewelry, but not her wedding ring, that now sits on my aunt's finger."

Ryan lets out a whistle and slowly taps his fist on the steering wheel. He won't look at me as he shifts in his seat.

"And I didn't sign a prenup so...that will be fun to tell your mother," Ryan tells me, and I feel the acidity in his voice.

"Well, there's more..." I start, thinking of the worst of it. The part that made me shut out my family for two weeks after Tilly's funeral. Ryan rubs his hands over his face and then looks to me, ready for the blow.

"My grandmother changed a bit of the conditions that go along with my trust."

"Okay..."

"I won't receive her portion until I turn 35, which is why I never got anything on my 28th birthday from her."

"I never realized you hadn't. I remember you mentioning you were supposed to, but I guess I never put it together," Ryan says with a small shrug. I can either leave out the bit about the reasoning behind my grandmother's actions and just let it go- Ryan none the wiser, or I can be honest and tell him she didn't trust his intentions. Will my momma mention it to be nasty? Do I chance him finding out some other way? 

I sigh and add, "Apparently she was concerned our relationship was moving too fast and was worried about your intentions. So, she changed the age to 35 and added that if I were to marry you, I wouldn't receive a lump sum. I would get it in installments over the next five years."

He lets out a breath of a flabbergasted laugh. He shakes his head and snaps, "Can you just reject her money completely? And all these damn strings to make us dance. I can see why you felt the need to keep me in the dark now. The man that's after your family's money got you to marry him without a prenup."

"You really want our marriage to start off fighting over money?" I ask in frustration. "I wanted to tell you in New York, but you refused to hear me out. Now we are married. What's mine is yours and I can tell you the only reason I'm glad to have my mother's money is now I don't have to move back into her house." Ryan smirks and I can tell something ugly is about to escape his lips so I cut him off as I say, "You knew I was a Sweeney when you asked me to marry you, you knew I came with strings and baggage but you hauled me off to the courthouse as quick as you could no questions asked. This is your reality now so instead of worrying about your wounded ego, why don't you tell me if you're coming into the house with me or staying in the car."

"Which would you prefer? She's your mother and I don't know which would be easier?" He asks me, his tone icy and I roll my eyes.

"Stay here and figure out how to get over the fact that your wife is a millionaire despite her grandmother's ill intentions. You have to live with it so the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move on from it," I snap and slam the door before trekking up the driveway. I huff out my frustration, wondering how I thought his response was going to be any different. Momma has shoved the fact that we have money down his throat since she met him but he never acknowledges my own wealth or Austin's. Why did he think the Sweeney offspring were Mississippi bumpkins?

My annoyance fuels my stride up to my brick porch steps. I reach out, placing my hand on the door knob but am not ready to turn it. I'm fidgety while I try to summon my courage. I just yelled at my husband with ease, so my mother should be no problem. I release a long sigh and then twist the knob. I'm not surprised that the door is unlocked and I'm not surprised to hear clattering coming from the kitchen.

I take long strides to get to the back of the house. I round the corner and find Celia preparing dinner and Momma drinking her tea from one of Tilly's cups. She flicks her blue eyes from the paper to me and when it registers that I am home, she bolts up from her chair.

"There's my Lady of Waterford!" She pushes her chair back and closes the gap between us in three steps as she throws her arms around me. I swallow hard and realize this is going to be so much worse than I thought.