The Unwanted Marriage

Chapter 8: Meeting His Brother

Aimee's POV

"Once again, do not remove your wedding ring. We never know when will we meet us. Better be ready for

surprise visits." Clyver reminded me before hopping out of his car and rushing to my side to open mine. I gave him a sigh and languidly went out.

He's not worried about me getting caught without our ring. What he is thinking is the fact that his parents will ask a hundred questions and probably blame him. I do understand this since I, myself, witnessed it. After shutting the door behind us, he fixed the buttons of his cuffs. I notice him struggle a bit on his right hand, so I did the favor and help him with it.

"Let me," I suggested and pulled his wrist closer. As I buttoned his sleeve, the main door of the mansion burst out open. The exciting look on Mrs. Finnson’s face welcomed us. Her long green floral dress compliments the Spanish style of the house. Unlike other mansions nearby, the house of the Finnson’s look not anywhere near a modern style. I heard this mansion was built in the 80s by their ancestors and only preserved through generations.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Finnson!" I enthusiastically stated. I went to her to give her a quick peck on the cheeks. Clyver, on the other hand, followed me from behind and let us have our small greetings.

“Oh come on, stop with the formalities! You’re my daughter now!” she chuckled and lightly tapped my shoulder. I awkwardly laugh and nodded at her. In our months of being married, we rarely meet Clyver’s parents. Aside from the fact that they are busy, I’m still not comfortable hanging around them. “Clyver, your brother is already inside. Come on in!” She opened the door wider, motioning us to enter.

This is the second time that I got to step foot in this mansion but still, I have to bite my lips to stop my jaw from dropping. Huge is an understatement to define this mansion. Aside from its exquisite design, its atmosphere gives a historical vibe, and the landscape surrounding the whole mansion looks very refreshing. For me, this can pass as a rest house.

I am staring at the chandelier hanging above us when I felt Clyver’s hand resting on my bareback. I am wearing a white elegant summer dress that falls just above my knee. It has a v-neckline—that made it look sexy yet not so exposed—and wide sleeves. The string is the only thing that keeps my dress attached to my body. I turn to face my husband. I know he felt my gaze but he refused on looking back at me and instead darted his eyes straight. He guided me towards their dining area.

This is where we first officially met. I still remember how annoyed he looked when our parents announced our engagement. This is where he excused himself and asked me if I can go with him. Our parents thought it’s his way to have me himself and get to know each other but the truth is, at the back part of this area, where there is no one can hear us, he persuaded me to cancel the wedding. The scene of us whispering at each other with a hint of frustration in his voice and my calm yet disappointed tone will always be fresh from my memory. I will never forget how frightened he was after his parents told us we will get married.

Mrs. Finnson pushed open the mahogany double door. Inside, there is a long table that can fit 15 people in total. The table is filled with utensils and flowers and candles. There is another L-shape table on the corner where the maids are currently preparing food.

“Aimee!” My lips turned in an upward curve. Clinton, Clyver’s brother got up o his seat and welcomed me. We both hugged each other. He patted my back before pulling away. “How are you doing?” he asked.

Clyver and Clinton have a lot in common when it comes to their physical appearance. Both have a perfect body shape; not too lean or too bulky. Both have a subtle beard. Only that Clinton has longer hair than Clyver.

“I’m great, Clinton! How’s your business doing?” I asked. He’s starting a chain of convenience stores in the US. Unlike Clyver, Clinton is more hands-on when it comes to business. He chose to establish his own business from scratch than inheriting the one his family already built.

“You still looked gorgeous but not as gorg as the last time I saw you. Are you sure you’re fine? Does my brother stress you?” he chuckled. I know it was meant as a joke but I can’t avoid getting swayed by it. ‘Do I really look stressed?’

“We’re doing fine, Clint…” Clyver joined the conversation.

“I hope so. To be honest, now that I get to know you more, I kind of regret rejecting father’s offer of marrying you.” My smile slowly faded but I maintained it in my lips. Clinton’s eyes were darted in my and the seriousness in his voice overlapped his goofy side. On the other hand, in my peripheral vision, I can see Clyver’s jaw moved—a movement he usually does when annoyed.

“Maybe the marriage life does bring changes in my appearance. No need to worry, Clint, we’re good!” I chuckled awkwardly and innocently hooked my arm to my husband as if it is a normal thing for us. I notice how Clinton’s eyes dropped on our intertwined arms. His gaze immediately crawled up to my face and flashed a smile.

“Great to hear then,” he said and glanced at his brother. “Come on, let’s take a seat while waiting for father,” he said before turning his back and guiding us to the long table. He chose to seat on the right side on the second seat, so we decided to sit on the left.

“Your father is on his way,” Mrs. Finnson uttered with a plate of seafood pasta in her hand. She placed it on the L-shape table and went out again, maybe to help the maids prepare. I didn’t even notice she wasn’t here while we were being greeted by Clinton.

The three of us were enveloped by a thick silence until Clyver decided to break it. “What made you visit here?” It was supposed to be an engaging topic but the way Clyver delivered it sounded not so friendly. Fortunately, Clinton seems to not notice it.

“Looking for investors. I am planning to open a branch here in the Philippines early next year,” he shrugged. “How about you? How’s the company doing? I heard dad still do most of it?” he smirked. I can sense the grim expression of Clyver on my left. My hand instinctively rested on my husband’s lap and stroke it. I know he and Clinton are not in a “brotherly state” and I don’t want this lunch to be chaotic. We rarely meet each other so I want this to be as peaceful as we can be.

“Yeah. I guess he doesn’t trust me as much as he trusts you," Clyver bluntly replied.

“Clyver…” I warned. He held my hand resting on his lap. Its coldness shows that he’s only holding back. I used my free hand to scoop our hand. Even his hand is larger, I tried my best to scoop and gently squeeze them. Soon, Clyver calmed down and managed to converse with his brother.

“Congratulations to your business. According to dad, it’s doing great.”

“Thank you, brother. I still have a lot of things to settle regarding my business. It’s hard to build a business from scratch but thanks to my performance in our company, some business owners already know me and are willing to invest in my company.”

I’m glad their conversation became light and turned casual. This is way better than the atmosphere earlier. The servants started pouring water into our glasses. I uttered a soft thank you to them while listening to the conversation of the two siblings.

“Great to hear. Since you are now independent and financially stable, when are you going to get married? You’re already 29 and you’re not getting any younger,” asked Clyver.

In the background, I heard Mrs. Finnson outside of the dining while talking to one of the servants. I straightened my back when my ears caught that Mr. Finnson is already there. I reached for my glass and took a sip of my water.

“I will. Just don’t let Aimee be single.” I almost choke in my water when I heard what Clinton answered. I put down my glass and chuckled uncomfortably. My eyes darted at my husband. I felt his palms clench. When I turn to Clinton, he’s grinning widely. “Kidding,” he added.

Before the two started a childish fight, we heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and Mr. Finnson, together with his wife, entered the dining.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted.

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Unedited.

Expect typo, spelling, and grammatical errors.

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The

Unwanted Marriage

by: Joanne Cristel

©2021

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