Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

MARIGOLD

I held the cup of hot coffee in my hand, feeling the steam rise under my chin. The heat seeped into my skin, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled deep in my bones since yesterday. There was a strange feeling in my very soul that I couldn't quite shake.

The photoshoot was still fresh in my mind, every touch, every glance, every stolen moment replaying on a loop. But it wasn't the heat between Zayn and me that had me feeling off—it was what came after.

Zayn's words echoed in my head, each one a little stab of doubt. "Soon this will all be over, and you can go back to your normal life. And I can go back to mine."

I'd forced a smile at the time, playing along like it was just another line in our little charade. But as the hours ticked by, the meaning behind his words began to gnaw at me. Was it really that easy for him? Was he going to be able to walk away from this like it was nothing more than a business transaction?

My chest tightened with the thought, the bitter taste of fear rising in my throat. Was I just imagining the connection between us? Had I been fooling myself this whole time, thinking that maybe—just maybe—there was something more?

The thought made me feel small, insignificant, like a fool who'd let herself get swept up in a fantasy. If I really took a step back and looked at the situation, I could see it was ridiculous. Zayn was this wealthy, educated, handsome man that could have any woman. Why would he want me?

Maybe Elaine had been right all along. Maybe this was a huge mistake. I was falling for the fairytale.

I sighed, leaning back against the chair as I tried to sort through the mess of emotions swirling inside me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in over my head. I needed to talk to someone who could help me see things clearly, someone who'd always been my rock.

Someone who knew the secret.

Without giving myself time to second-guess, I picked up my phone and pushed the button for my father's contact. He answered on the third ring, his familiar voice grounding me like it always did.

"Marigold, sweetheart," he answered. "This is a nice surprise. How are you?"

"I'm… okay," I said, though the words felt like a lie. "Just thinking about a lot of things."

He didn't press, just waited for me to continue, his silence a gentle nudge to let it all out. He was an excellent listener. Always had been.

"I've been getting cold feet," I admitted, the confession spilling out before I could stop it.

"About?"

"About everything—Zayn, the engagement, this whole situation. It's just… a lot. I'm not nearly as confident about the idea as I thought I was."

He hummed thoughtfully on the other end of the line. "I'm glad you've been thinking long and hard about this, honey. It's a big decision, and it's never too late to change your mind. You know that, right?"

His words were a familiar refrain, something my parents had always told me growing up. But the concept of changing my mind had never come easily to me. I was a people pleaser, always more concerned with disappointing others than with what I really wanted. It was a habit that had followed me into adulthood, and one that I struggled with every day.

"I know, but it's complicated, Dad. Zayn's depending on me, and I believe in what he's doing with his nonprofit. It's just… I'm scared. What if this is a mistake?"

"You have every right to be scared," he said, his voice steady and calm. "But fear shouldn't be the only thing guiding your decisions. If you're really having doubts, maybe you should talk to your lawyer. See if there's a way out of the contract, even if it means paying the money back."

I hadn't even considered that. The contract had always felt like a noose around my neck, binding me to this arrangement with no escape. But maybe there was a way out—if I was willing to face the consequences.

"Then what?" I asked, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "Where would I go? What would I do?"

"Well, you could always come home. Move back in with me for a while, get out of the limelight. Let me take care of you for a bit."

The offer hung in the air between us, more tempting than I cared to admit. The thought of retreating to the safety of home, of escaping the scrutiny and pressure that came with being engaged to someone like Zayn, was like a lifeline. But I knew myself too well. If I went home, I'd become a hermit, never setting foot outside the door, afraid of the judgment that would inevitably follow.

If I thought the judgment I was already getting online from total strangers was bad, it would be ten times worse back home.

Courtney was there. She would make my life a living hell. At least in Manhattan, I could hide. I could blend into the millions of other people.

"I appreciate the offer, Dad," I said. "But I can't hide away forever. And if the truth came out, I don't know if I could handle the embarrassment."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to worry about what other people think," he said gently. "What matters is what you think, what you want. If you need to walk away from this, you have every right to do so. But if you want to see it through, then you'll need to be brave. Just know that whatever you decide, I'll be here to support you."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Dad. I'll think about everything you said. I promise."

"Good," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Take care of yourself, Marigold. And remember, you can always call me if you need anything."

"I know."

"And for what it's worth, I kind of like the guy," he said.

I laughed. "I know."

"I don't know if he's for you, but I don't think he's the devil incarnate. I trust you and your judgment. I want you to be careful. I love you, and if you want me to step in, say the word."

"Thanks, Dad."

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up the phone, feeling both lighter and more burdened at the same time. I knew I needed to make a decision soon, but no matter which way I leaned, it felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, about to take a leap into the unknown.

This situation was spiraling out of control.

Before I could dwell on it any longer, there was a knock at my door. I frowned, not expecting anyone, and set my coffee mug down as I went to answer it.

When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of an enormous flower arrangement—fall-inspired with deep oranges, rich reds, and vibrant yellows. It was stunning, the kind of thing that would brighten up any room. Nestled among the flowers was a gold-embossed invitation, the elegant script catching the light.

"Marigold Reed?" the delivery man asked with a smile.

"That's me," I said.

"These are for you."

I took the arrangement, my heart racing as I looked at the invitation. "Thank you."

He tipped his hat and left, leaving me alone with the flowers. I walked back into the kitchen, set the arrangement on the counter, and carefully pulled the card from the arrangement. I opened the envelope, curious to see who had sent me something so beautiful.

Inside was an invitation to the Bancroft Thanksgiving dinner, set for this Thursday. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the gold lettering, memories of past Thanksgivings flashing through my mind.

It wouldn't be anything like I was used to back home. No small turkey in the oven, no store-bought box stuffing, no last-minute scramble to find whatever vegetables were left at our small market. No, this dinner would be a lavish affair, filled with people who lived in a world I'd only ever observed from the outside.

This was the kind of Thanksgiving dinner that people were sent elaborate invitations to attend. I was certain they would all dress up in fancy clothes like they were going to a red-carpet event.

I couldn't help but think of my mother, what she might want for me this holiday. She'd always been more willing to take risks than my father, more adventurous in spirit. If she were here, what would she tell me to do?

The thought made me smile, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest. I knew exactly what she'd say—she'd tell me to be brave, to see this through. She'd remind me that sometimes, the only way to find out what you're capable of is to take the leap, even if it scares you.

When would I ever have another chance to attend a Thanksgiving dinner this fancy?

"Never," I said aloud.

With that thought in mind, I walked to my bedroom and opened my jewelry box. Inside, nestled among the other pieces, were my mother's precious turquoise earrings. They were simple, yet striking, with a color that always reminded me of her—a vibrant reminder of the woman who'd taught me to be strong, even when I didn't feel like it.

I picked up the earrings, holding them in the palm of my hand. Maybe all I needed to get through the dinner was a little something of my mother with me. For courage.

I slipped the earrings into my ears, feeling the cool weight of them against my skin. It was a small gesture, but it made me feel closer to her, like she was with me, encouraging me to face whatever came next.

Despite shopping with Elaine the other day, I now needed to find a dress that would go with the earrings. My mother was going to be with me when I went to this dinner. She was going to be with me in spirit as I rubbed elbows with some of the wealthiest people in the world.

I didn't know if she would be proud, but I wanted to believe she might be just a little. She'd at least be excited for the experience.

I got dressed and headed out to do a little shopping. I was going to be using my own money. This dress was going to be mine. All mine.

My heart pounded with adrenaline as I stepped into the boutique, the smell of new clothes and leather handbags wafting through my senses. I needed something that would not only honor my mother's memory but make me feel confident walking into a room full of strangers.

"May I help you?" a woman asked me. She was impeccably dressed with a wide smile on her face, giving off an air of sophistication that was both intimidating and impressive.

"I'm looking for something for a dinner… a formal one," I said.

The woman's eyes glowed with interest. "Certainly. Right this way, please."

With exquisite grace, she led me through the aisles filled with dresses of every shape and hue imaginable. As I sifted through the many offerings, I realized I had no idea where to begin. What did one wear to a billionaire's Thanksgiving dinner?

I expressed my predicament, and the woman patiently helped me navigate through the sea of satin, chiffon and lace. She was kind, not at all pretentious. She never said a word about my body or ample curves.

Instead, she seemed excited to dress me. That made me excited to wear the beautiful dress too.