Hi! I just wanted to make a quick apology a few people have raised a couple of mistakes I have made through out my story. I am helping one of my friends write her greys anatomy fanfic while also writing this story and I tend to write/edit at 3 in the morning, (I hope I'm not the only one who does this :|). I must of accidentally put Derek Shepard's name in rather than Tobias, it what happens when I have no sleep and sit up writing in the middle of the night. I really do apologise and I'll make sure I try not to do it again and thank you to those people who have raised this issue to me! I'll be posting another chapter after this one to make up for my mistakes.

Tris

The hallway smells like fish sauce. I'm sure the neighbors are annoyed, but I have to smile. It smells like home. Like happiness. Like Dad's well enough he's cooking something.

I'm stuffed with fresh raspberry chocolate chip pancakes—another perfect tea and food pairing—but I still feel a hunger. Not for food. For comfort. Love. Family.

The way things used to be.

I let myself in.

Dad looks up from his spot at the kitchen counter. "Tris, honey, taste this." He holds out his spoon. A sauce he's fixing on the stove. There are noodles draining in the sink.

"Sure." I press the door closed. Nod hello to the aide who's here today, a tall man in blue scrubs, and move to the kitchen.

This apartment feels even smaller after being in Tobias' place, but not in a way that's inferior.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the space in Tobias' massive Hell's Kitchen estate. But I appreciate the cozy feeling of family more.

I taste the sauce. It's strong enough I forget the fruity breakfast. "Wow."

"Wow?" He shakes his head.

"It's my fault you haven't cooked in five years?"

He doesn't bring up his illness, his reason for not cooking the last few years. He just nods of course. "You're old enough to cook for yourself now. You didn't even have sauce in your fridge." He shakes his head playfully.

"My neighbors complain."

He shakes his hand at them ridiculous. "Invite them over next time. They won't complain anymore."

Probably true. But unlikely to happen. It's been a long time since I've attempted the all-day affair that is making dinner.

Dad is up. He's cooking. Things are good. They can stay good. At least, for a while.

And the rest of my life... it's wide open. I can enjoy. Period. End of sentence.

I check my cell. Sure enough, I have both Amar's and Toris's numbers. I can ask them for anything.

Is that imposing? Or does it make their job easier if I'm specific?

After all, telling Tori to surprise me with breakfast means she has to both come up with the idea and execute it.

I shoot her a text.

Tris: Can you find some tea for later?

She replies immediately.

Tori: Of course, Ms. Prior. Should I prepare an afternoon tea based on the flavor profile?

Why not?

Tris: Yes. Thanks. I'll let you know when I'm on my way home.

It's strange calling Tobias' place home, but it's close enough.

Tris: Can you buy an extra tin? For my father?

Tori: I'll have it sent over.

"Don't you have work?" Dad turns his attention to the pot on the stove. He stirs carefully, like he's fixing dinner for a king.

"Mr. Black let me go."

He makes that awful hmmm noise.

"It doesn't look right, apparently. Me being engaged to Tobias."

He does it again, only longer and lower.

"That's part of why we kept this quiet." It's a good explanation and it's almost true. "I like my job." Sure, my gig has its irritations. And, yes, I wouldn't do it for free. But there is something about getting things done. It feels good.

I want to be productive. Useful. Self-reliant.

I need to explain this in some way that will win Dad's approval. "I was worried about what would happen. I thought Mr. Black would understand. But I guess there's no belief in love in business. Tobias owns a competing VC firm. That's enough."

Again, he makes that horrible hmmm noise.

"I'm going to look for something else. But I'm not sure what. I don't think any other firms will hire me. Or... if they will, it will be because I'm engaged to the enemy, and they want to trot me out like a symbol. Look, it's Tobias Eaton's wife. We can use her to get to him. We're important. Something like that."

He does it again.

I go to slide my hands into my pockets, but I'm not wearing a coat. It's warm today. Beautiful actually. My sweater dress—one I bought on sale at Nordstrom to treat myself on my twenty-first birthday—is already too thick for the weather.

But I like the thickness of the fabric. And the dark color. They're shields. To hide all the things going through my head.

"I actually slept in today," I say. "I can't remember the last time that happened."

He finishes stirring the sauce. Turns the burner to warm. Goes to fixing the ground pork.

"How's the apartment treating you?"

"It must be expensive."

"Tobias is covering it."

Again, the hmmm.

"He volunteered." Sort of. "I, um, I wanted to have an easier time visiting with you. Isn't this easier? We can walk to the park." We can't make it to Battery Park or Central Park or the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. But we can walk to Browne Park. Or something a little farther out.

"I like the apartment."

"Good."

"It's our apartment."

"Yeah."

"You should be here. Until you do get married."

I want to. So badly. But I can't tell him that. He'll get the wrong idea. "It's going to be soon. We're just getting ready."

"You're marrying soon?" He turns back to me, studies my expression.

I nod.

"Are you pregnant?"

"Dad!"

"Why else?"

I say nothing, but that doesn't matter. He reads it all over my face. Not the ruse or the deal I've made with Tobias. The reason I agreed.

Because Dad is sick. Because he might die. Because I want him to walk me down the aisle.

"Beatrice..."

"You won't change my mind."

"He does make you happy?"

"Yes. But I'd be happier with a cup of tea."

He nods of course. Turns the water to hot and starts to wash his hands. "You don't distract me."

"I know."

"Tea doesn't fix everything."

"We'll see about that."

Again, that hmm noise. He stays silent as he fills the kettle, turns it on, scoops leaves into the pot. The one that was Mom's favorite.

I didn't like it at first. I always preferred the strength of black tea. The scented varieties. Earl Grey. Vanilla. Chai.

But, every day, Mom fixed me a cup of something different everyday. And every day I liked it a little more.

"I actually... wanted to talk about something else," I say.

"Something besides your sudden wedding?" He heats a pan on the stove.

"Well... more about the planning." I pull my supplies from my purse. Two bridal magazines. Three catalog's. A tablet filled with boutiques, hair stylists, photographers. "I don't even have an idea about the dress."

The pan sizzles as a pork meatball hits the surface. Dad nods yes. But it's without his usual spirit.

He's thinking it too. That Mom should be here. That she should be the one helping me.

Instead of curling into himself, pushing some well of sadness as far down as it will go, he turns and offers a soft smile. "Your mother would have insisted on a big, wedding. A dress out of a Disney movie. Not the one you liked. Aunt Edith's favorite."

"The Little Mermaid?"

He nods that's it.

I pull up the image of Ariel in her wedding dress. Giant skirt with actual tiers and a touch of pink.

Dad smiles. "She would have encouraged you to feel like a princess. Or wear something modern, that you'd see on a celebrity. But, really, she would have been picturing you in traditional dress."

I'm not so sure. Mom always pushed me to assimilate as much as possible. She would have wanted me to wear a very modern dress. But it's easier for Dad to speak his peace when it's via what Mom would have wanted. "It would be beautiful."

"She always had high hopes for you and Tobias. She thought—"

"He was rich?"

He chuckles. "It's much easier, going through life with money than without."

That's the problem, isn't it? Tobias has money. I need money. Which means I need him.

Money doesn't just buy rent, food, medicine. It buys freedom too.

The kettle steams. Dad washes his hands. Pours water over the leaves. Motions for me to sit.

I do. I start flipping through the first bridal magazine, but everything looks the same. Pretty blond women in ivory dresses on light blue backgrounds.

Tori left all these in the car. For me. From her or Tobias, I don't know. It is helpful. But it's presumptuous too. Like I can't handle this alone.

Who am I kidding? I can't handle this alone. There's way too much that goes into planning a wedding. Especially into planning a wedding that fits a man who owns half of Manhattan.

I should take Tobias' advice. Let his team handle the details.

But not the dress. They can't take the dress.

Dad focuses on cooking until the meatballs are finished. He turns the burner to warm, fixes another round of tea, joins me at the table.

I'm already on my second catalog, but I haven't absorbed any of it.

Fabric flits through my mind. Lace, ivory, silk, tulle, chiffon. In ivory, white, cream, blush, and even the occasional baby blue.

So many different dresses. So many beautiful dresses. So many ornate details. Beads, sequins, feathers, chiffon flowers.

Does the dress need to mean something?

Can it just be a dress?

All this wedding information makes the same point.

This is the best day of your life. Never compromise. It's about what you want.

But it's not the best day of my life. It's another day where I'm under Tobias' command. And the dress...

It's not about finding something that matches the occasion. Not exactly.

It's about holding on to the little part of control I have. Wearing something that proclaims I'm Beatrice Prior and I'm more than a rich man's wife. I'm...

Something.

Dad taps the page on the right. A silk dress. "It would suit you."

Maybe. It's beautiful. Elegant. Sexy even.

Is that what I want to say about myself?

I haven't thought much about my wedding. Even when I was a girl, when Tobias and I were teenagers in love.

My thoughts of the future were always college, my own apartment, shows in the city. Not love or kids or marriage. I knew I would have that. It wasn't even a choice. It was just what I was supposed to do.

Now...

"Drink your tea." Dad pushes the mug toward me.

I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic. Take a long sip. It is soothing. It always is. "Thank you."

"No offense, honey, but why ask me?"

"I'm not supposed to ask for my father's help with my wedding?" I try to recall friends' weddings or things I've seen on TV. It's usually moms, sisters, aunts even. "Are you going to call Aunt Edith?" Joanna would be better with clothes, but he admires Edith's practical streak. "Ask her to close the restaurant for a week so she can fly out here?"

He chuckles. "Tobias could afford it."

He could. And he would. It's not actually the worst idea in the world.

"You're inviting them to the wedding. Why not to the wedding planning?"

"I'll consider that." It's the best idea I've had so far. Though... knowing my aunts... They're two bossy, in demand ladies. They'll hijack the wedding as well as Tobias' team will. They'll be on my side, yes, but they'll also be following their vision.

He takes a long sip of his tea. "I know you love my fashion sense." He motions to his t-shirt and sweatpants. "But you must have girlfriends who are almost as stylish."

"I'm not sure anyone comes close, Dad." I can't help but smile. I wish I had his optimism. Maybe my kids will. Maybe it skips a generation.

Or maybe this is too much, too soon.

Last night was amazing. But jumping into a whole wedding—

It's a lot.

"Still, it can't hurt to have the moral support," he says.

I nod true. Flip the page to an over-the-top princess dress. It's the spitting image of Belle's dress from Beauty and the Beast, only cream instead of bright yellow. A little more subtle, but only a little.

Dad laughs and says "Everyone, everywhere wants the chance to show off. To say look at my beautiful daughter, my beautiful wife, this beautiful life she's going to embark on."

So far, Tobias' team hasn't forced me into any specific appointments. I can spend the next two weeks—or however long I have to figure this out—trying on dress after dress. Or I can pick one out of a magazine. Or call a seamstress and ask her to create something from scratch.

But I understand the rush. I need to decide this, soon, or his team will decide for me.

"If you aren't going to call your aunts, bring a friend. It will help." His smile is soft. And a little sad. Because he's not well enough to help. Or because Mom isn't here. Or both.

"I will." Only I don't have any close friends. Not anymore. My first year of college, I bloomed. I met so many people who shared my interests. Who wanted to talk about film or theater or the wonder of New York City.

But after Dad got sick and I had to drop out to work full time—

It was too hard, explaining my decision, dealing with the looks of pity people offered. It was too hard, dealing with expectations. Even with other people in my position. Or worse positions.

They thought they understood because they'd been through similar hardships. Maybe they did. Maybe I was the one who didn't get it.

I'm friendly with lots of people. But there are only a few I trust for anything genuine.

Dad. And Zeke.

That was complicated before Tobias asked me to marry him. Now...

"What about Shauna?" He mentions Zeke's fiancée. They met at the company where I worked as Zeke's assistant. God, that was a minefield. "She was always stylish."

He's right. Shauna is very stylish. And she's not the type of person who expects anything of me. She didn't take the normal path either. Went from Stanford to a New York school no one remembers, all to stay closer to her sister.

"You know things are strained with Zeke and Tobias," I say.

"Life is too short, Tris."

"It's his life, not mine."

He shakes his head it's ridiculous. Sips his tea.

It's nice, him disapproving of my fiancé's life choices. He's looking out for me again. We're having a normal breakfast. Like we would if he wasn't sick. "I'm not going to get in the middle." It's hard enough dealing with this arrangement without Tobias thinking I'm on Zeke's side.

"Aren't you going to invite them to the wedding?"

"Of course."

He holds out his hand sounds like an opportunity.

That's true enough. "They need time."

"Why?"

I thought I knew. Now, not so much. Zeke holds onto secrets better than anyone. And Tobias is as tight-lipped as they come.

"Was it because of rehab? How Zeke forced Tobias to get sober?" Dad asks. My surprise must be obvious, because he clarifies. "It was in the papers."

It was a few lines in a few business sections. But only the part about rehab. Not the rest. Even I don't know the details. Somehow, Zeke did what I couldn't. He convinced Tobias to get clean. And now Tobias hates him with a fiery passion.

Is it as simple as a little blackmail? Zeke taking away the one thing Tobias loves?

Or maybe it has something to do with this arrangement.

No... Zeke isn't the type. He's a straightforward, no-nonsense guy. Except for the whole sleeping with an intern ten years his junior thing, he's obsessed with propriety.

I rack my brain for some explanation that will tie these things together—Zeke convincing Tobias to get sober and Tobias paying me to marry him—but there's only one thing.

Me.

I wouldn't do this if he was drinking. He must know that.

But it's been a year. There's no way he waited all that time.

"Tris?" Dad makes that mm-hmm noise again. "There's something you're not saying."

"Nothing important."

"I know I'm old—"

"You're not old." He's not even fifty.

"But I still remember things. And I remember your fiancé." His intent is clear. He was always drinking. Always drunk. Even when the situation didn't call for it.

I can't exactly deny it. But I can change the subject. "This isn't helping me pick out a dress."

He doesn't bite. "It will be your family soon. It will be your problem too."

Maybe. But I'm really not getting in the middle.

I pull out my cell to text Tobias.

To say... something. I'm not sure if I actually want Shauna's help, but I do want to know what he'll say.

Is he still furious?

Because he thinks Zeke fucked me? Or because of rehab? Or something else, something I don't see.

There's already a message from Tobias.

Tobias: I just got word from a colleague. We need to have our engagement party on Saturday. Is that a problem?

Tris: No.

Tobias: Good.

Tris: I was going to ask Shauna for her advice on a dress.

Tobias: You're in touch?

Tris: On and off.

That's an exaggeration. But I know the sassy programmer. She'll be jazzed to see me. And even more excited to offer fashion advice.

She defies that whole nerds only wear jeans and graphic tees stereotype.

Tobias: Just Shauna?

Tris: Who else?

Tobias: You've been friends with Zeke for a long time.

Tris: He's not a fashionista, last time I checked.

Tobias: Just Shauna. I don't want you seeing him alone.

So he does believe something happened. Or he's jealous.

I want to tell him to fuck off. To insist I'll see who I want.

But that's not what I agreed to. I'm not to appear unfaithful. Dinner with my fiancé's best friend—

That will be a headache to explain.

Not that I have a choice.

I'm still Tobias' to bend, pose, break.

But I'm not letting it get to me today. Today, I'm going to enjoy the spoils. To soak up every drop of freedom.

Even if there are only a few sips.