Until I Really Do

Chapter Thirty Two

"What is this about?" Angry hazel eyes ran down the length of her, seemingly striping her bare until she was reduced to nothing before him.

For a second, Sharon considered walking away from Greg Steiner, but the thought was quickly pushed aside by an even more urgent thought; she needed to leave, and the vile man before her was the only one who could help her.

Straightening, she cleared her throat. "I want what you want—"

Laughter filled the air, halting the flow of her words. Momentarily rendered speechless by the older Steiner who stood laughing for a few seconds, she watched him in silence. Then, as if regaining his composure, he turned his attention back to her and raised a brow in an obvious show of mockery. “Sheryl... Is that it, is that your name?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. "Sharon, sir."

"Of course, Sharon," he chuckled, waving his hands in the air, as if to wave her off. "I have had a really long day and would like to get some rest. Standing here and having a conversation with you is doing nothing but worsening my headache." He sighed. "Now, if you will excuse me..." He made to turn around.

Without stopping to consider her actions, she reached out and grabbed his arm. She yanked at it, forcing him to turn back around. The smile on his face was immediately replaced by an angry scowl.

“I believe I am owed a little over one minute, sir.” She said, barely able to speak past the emotions that clouded her mind.

Silence followed her words, his angry gaze holding hers for several seconds. Sharon imagined him turning and walking away once more and she truly did not think she had the strength to stop him for the umpteenth time that evening.

Perhaps this was fate's way of telling her she made a terrible mistake by coming to him? What possessed her into thinking he would be interested in helping her?

"Fine, you win,” he finally said, forcing a loud breath to escape her lips.

Nodding, she began;

"I know of your dislike for me and how you feel plagued by my presence. I know you do not think I'm good enough for your son and are willing to do anything —including withhold money from him to pay off his debt— until he divorces me." She paused, her gaze fixed on him as she watched for a reaction.

Nothing. He instead stood there, unflinching.

Sighing, she continued: 

"I know Matthew loves Gretchen; I have seen more than enough evidence of their love for each other, and now more than ever, I'm convinced he will never be in love with me. Sooner or later, he will return to Gretchen and I'll be left with nothing.”

Seeing Matthew with his arms around Gretchen had confirmed everything to her; she didn't belong here. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that perhaps Matthew did love, she knew she could never belong here. His family hated her, her father was unable to care for her and now she was with child. But as she stood watching the two lovers that evening, she decided she couldn't —No, she wouldn't raise a child with a man who was as deceptive and conniving and evil as her father. She needed to get away and while she hated having to resort to begging for help from Matthew's father, she couldn't get away without money; something only he could provide.

"For whatever reason Matthew has chosen to wed me again tomorrow, I will never know. But I refuse to be humiliated any further. I cannot possibly bear the shame."

"Twenty seconds, Sharon," he said, stroking his moustache.

"I will leave," she said. She was certain his eyes lighted up with her words as well. It was true then; he desired her departure much more than she had initially suspected.

Deciding that she would take advantage of his desperation, she said, "I need money however, to begin a new life. I am worth nothing and my father cannot help me in any way."

He chuckled, his fingers still stroking his moustache. "Yes, of course. He's probably out cold somewhere in a gutter or something."

Clenching her fist at his jab at her father, she bit down on her lower lip to keep from retorting. She needed the bastard, whether she liked him or not.

"Nonetheless," he raised his hands in surrender. "I will give you a check,"

"I need cash, sir," she answered quickly.

"Sharon, the money I'm about to give to you is way too much to be carried in cash. But, I will give you cash, perhaps for a stage fare?" He raised a brow.

"Thank you." She bit out, somewhat relieved, yet, not fully so. The stubborn part of her that cared about Matthew felt guilty for planning to run away.

"No, dear. You have made my job a lot easier."

And with that, she followed him into the house to conclude their business.

~*~

Her conversation with Mr. Steiner the evening before filled her mind as she stared at herself in the mirror. The image of the young woman that stared back at her was unbelievably beautiful; loose curls framed her oval face, falling to her shoulders that were left bare by the plunging neckline of the white dress she and Nana had labored for several weeks to bring to perfection.

And it was indeed perfect, intricate lace designs forming the full sleeves that covered her arms and cuffed her wrists. The soft fabric clung tightly to her waist, held bound by a light pink ribbon that formed the high waistline, before falling elegantly down her body and forming a train behind her.

Clutching tightly to the bouquet of red roses in her hands, tears slipped slowly down her cheeks. She wondered how such perfection could embody the tragic emotions that were ripping her apart from the inside. She wondered how a day set aside to be the happiest day of her life could be doomed to be the worst day of her life. Her world was falling apart. It was also possible that her world had never really been together. Perhaps for a while, with Matthew, she honestly believed it was, but she had been wrong.

Even now, as she stared at her image, she could make out the sacks underneath her eyes; the ones that embodied the weariness that had deprived her of sleep the night before. While she had laid burdened by the decision she knew she would be forced to make today, Matthew laid sleeping beside her with his arm around her; the same arms that had held Gretchen. She knew she would always come last in Matthew's life. Right next to Gretchen was his family. She didn't think she mattered at all and she didn't know why it bothered her so much. She tried to gain solace in the fact that they had only gotten married for his inheritance and true enough, once he had his money, he wouldn't need her.

He didn't need her, so she needed to leave.

Sniffing, she wiped her face with her hands and turned stiffly to the door. Pulling it open, she hurried down the stairs, abandoning her bouquet on the dining table before hurrying out through the back door.

She was thankful for the solitude in the building. It had been difficult to get rid of Nana by convincing her to join the rest of the guests by the lake, but she had finally succeeded, knowing Nana's presence would have certainly made leaving impossible.

She reached the stable quickly, and pulling open the stall of the horse Matthew had gifted to her. She stirred it in a different direction, away from the house, and away from Matthew.

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