“Who is Gigi?”
My shoulders tense. “You mea—”
“The only Gigi I can think of was Albert’s wife. That gardener Dad employed for a while?”
“Huh. I didn’t know her name was Gigi.”
“Oh my god.”
“What? I’m just saying.” I’m not used to dealing with this Elizabeth, one who disapproves of me this thoroughly. Even when I released the sex tape, her censure held a hint of affection.
“Do you know your wife’s name?”
“Of course.”
“Then why aren’t you using it?” Confusion clouds her voice. “Why are you introducing her as Gigi?”
Damn it. I don’t need an inquisition from my half-sister, which is only making me feel worse. Not that I don’t deserve it, but I don’t have to like it either. “It’s a perfectly nice name,” I say tersely.
Silence stretches. “You’re kidding, right?”
I run my hand through my hair. “What do you want me to say, Elizabeth?”
“You remember what you told me I needed? Back on your birthday?”
I do. I told her she needed a husband who would care for her like the princess that she is, because she’s a woman and is going to have wants beyond just sex. I even mentioned shooting any asshole who didn’t treat her right. The memory of our conversation lodges in my mind like an uncomfortable lump. “What about it?”
“If the man I marry to fulfill Dad’s condition deals with me the way you deal with your wife, will you be okay with that?”
I rest my face in a hand. “No.”
“Then don’t be a hypocrite. Treat your wife well. Annabelle is a nice girl, and I hate seeing her cry.”
The vise around my chest tightens. “She cried?”
“Yes. We had coffee yesterday. The poor thing was upset about the dinner, I told her not to worry about it. Then she cried. Not dainty, pretty crocodile tears like your other women would’ve pulled either. It was an ugly cry, honest and painful to watch.”
“Why did she cry?” Elizabeth isn’t the type to just let someone cry without getting to the bottom of the story.
“You won’t call her by her name. You also didn’t tell her why you were marrying her. When she realized I knew about the temporary arrangement, she thought we were laughing at her behind her back. Just imagine the humiliation! You should’ve told her the truth or not bothered at all.”
I close my eyes. Elizabeth is right. I wanted a stripper for fun and to embarrass Dad. I should’ve at least tried to be more considerate when I realized my wife was different. Having what an asshole I’ve been and how it’s affected my wife so plainly laid out… “I fucked it up. From the beginning. Everything. Just fucked it up.”
“Yes.”
My saintly half-sister must be really upset to agree with me so readily. Usually she says something encouraging.
“So fix it, Einstein,” she continues. “You’re the genius.”
“How?” I have a few ideas, but I want to hear hers.
“First, for god’s sake, stop calling her Gigi. That’s the surest way to make a girl feel cheap. I’m pretty sure she thought you were trying to recreate some ex-girlfriend named Gigi.”
“What?” Of all the possibilities, that never once crossed my mind.
“For such a smart guy, you can be awfully dumb.” Elizabeth’s voice is tart. “And you never romanced her, did you?”
My silence is an answer enough.