Kate
The sun shiningdown on me, shining off the rippling waves of the lake below—it would be an absolutely beautiful view if I actually wanted to be here. If I wasn’t being forced to be here by my mother and father for what’s basically amounting to a modern-day arranged marriage with a man I haven’t even met yet already know I’m not going to like.
But would it matter anyway? What girl wants to be married off by her parents? Treated like some kind of prized cattle or piece of land being exchanged by two families? Hasn’t anyone ever heard of love? True love? That feeling you get deep down in your gut when you meet the man of your dreams and you just know?
Hasn’t anyone ever heard of that feeling you get that makes your whole body tingle and your soul light up that makes you sure that the one standing in front of you is the only one in the world for you?
I mean—I’ve never felt that feeling yet, but I’m sure one day I will, and when I do, I don’t want a ring on my finger saying I belong to some man my mother and father thought was right for me because he came from the right family and ticked all the right boxes on their “perfect man” checklist.
No, I want to find love, and I want love to find me. Is that too much to ask?
I stand on the dock and gaze out across the lake of the resort my parents chose for our annual summer vacation—yet another decision in my life I wasn’t a part of. An assortment of boats, from tiny one-man rowboats to sailboats that look like they could fit four or five people, dot the landscape. My dad’s been talking a lot about how he used to sail back in college, but I highly doubt he’ll do much more than sit in a recliner and talk on his cell phone this entire trip.
A small blue boat glides up to the dock, and a man hops out. He’s wearing a white tank top that is stained with dirt and littered with small holes and tears. It’s so worn that it’s barely clinging to his thick, muscled torso that bulges and flexes as he steps out onto the decking.
He’s far away, but even from this distance, I can see he’s devastatingly sexy.
He turns in my direction as he ties up his boat, revealing a face that’s chiseled yet boyishly handsome, but there’s something in the way he moves that makes me think he must be somewhere in his thirties. He glances up, and our eyes meet for a brief moment, and all I can think is total daddy vibes.
“Katie!” My mother’s voice rings out like the blaring of a foghorn, utterly shattering the magic of the moment. I’m so startled that I spin around to see her standing up by the house we’ve rented. “Everyone’s eating now, can you come and join us, please!?”
“Yeah,” I stammer. “J-just a minute.”
“Let’s not let it get cold, okay?” she asks with that smile on her face and that tone in her voice that makes me feel like I’m five years old again.
“Okay, Mom,” I reply, doing my best to get rid of her. She nods and goes back inside.
I turn back around, my eyes searching for the mystery man from moments before, but all I see now is his boat. The dock is empty; he’s gone.
“Damn it, Mom,” I mutter under my breath as I quickly glance around to see if he’s anywhere else I can see. But of course he’s not. Of course my mom had to ruin the one exciting moment I’ve managed to have since we got here, and now I have to go up to the house and suffer through what will certainly be a painful dinner where I have to listen to my parents discuss how they see my future going.
Feeling like my feet are encased in concrete bricks, I trudge up the incline to the house and enter through the front door. I can already smell the haddock, which I have told my parents I don’t like too many times to count. Thankfully, I can smell potatoes too, which will end up being the main course of my dinner.
“Come on in, sweetie!” my mom calls. “We’re already sitting down!”
I find my mom and dad at the table with their plates in front of them, mine at my place, and a fourth plate beside mine. My body immediately goes cold.
“Are we expecting someone?”
“Oh, honey, you know Malcom was going to be joining us.” My mother smiles. I glance at my dad who nods, motioning for me to sit.
Malcom Harington, Princeton grad and future partner at his father’s law firm, and the man my parents have picked out as my future partner in life. He sounds great on paper, or if you were to read his profile on a dating app, but excuse me if I’m not interested in meeting my future husband based on a resume my parents approved.
“Riiight,” I reply as I take a seat and stuff my mouth with potatoes. “My arranged marriage. I forgot we were living in the fifteenth century.”
“Oh, stop it, honey,” my father says. “Malcom is a great guy. His father and I have been friends for years.”
“She’s just being difficult,” my mother says in that tone that mothers use on toddlers, not women who can legally vote. “Don’t be difficult, Katherine. Eat your fish.”
“I hate haddock…” I mutter, barely loud enough for my mom to hear. My comment registers, but she chooses not to reply. Instead, she just glances over at me with thundercloud eyes.
I maintain a silence for the next few minutes until I hear the door open and both of my parents perk up. The sound of male footsteps approaching pounds through my gut like approaching death. I don’t even look up when Malcom stops in the doorway and greets my parents.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Pennington!”
“Hello, Malcom!” my mom exclaims, as though it were her date who just arrived. “How are you, dear?”
“Hey there, Malcom,” my dad says, rising for a man-to-man handshake. “Find us all right?”