L.J. Shen.The Villain

Copyright?2020byL.J.Shen
Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,distributed,ortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,includingphotocopying,recording,orotherelectronicormechanicalmethods,withoutpriorconsentofthepublisher,exceptinthecaseofbriefquotationembodiedincriticalreviewsandcertainothernoncommercialusepermittedbycopyrightlaw.
Resemblancetoactualpersonsandthingslivingordead,locales,oreventsisentirelycoincidental.TitlePage
Copyright
AboutThisBook
Playlist
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Stayconnected
AlsobyL.J.Shen
ExcerptfromTheKissThief
Prologue
ChapterOneCruel.Cold-blooded.HadesinaBrionisuit.
CillianFitzpatrickhasbeendubbedeverywickedthingonplanetEarth.
Tothemedia,heisTheVillain.
Tome,heisthemanwho(reluctantly)savedmylife.
NowIneedhimtodomeanothersmallsolid.
Bailmeoutofthemessmyhusbandgotmeinto.
What’sahundredgrandtooneofthewealthiestmeninAmerica,anyway?
OnlyCilliandoesn’thandoutfavorsforfree.
Thepriceforthemoney,itturnsout,ismyfreedom.
NowI’mtheeldestFitzpatrickbrother’slittletoy.
Toplay,tomold,tobreak
ToobadCillianforgotonetinydetail.
Persephonewasn’tonlythegoddessofspring,shewasalsothequeenofdeath.
HethinksI’llbuckleundertheweightofhismindgames.
Heisabouttofindoutthemostlethalpoisonisalsothesweetest.SubUrban:“Cradles”
BishopBriggs:“River”
WhiteStripes:“HardestButtontoButton”
GogolBordello:“Sally”
MilkandBone:“Peaches”
NickCaveandtheBadSeeds:“RedRightHand”ToCoriandLana.LostinHell,Persephone,
Takeherheaduponyourknee;
Saytoher,“Mydear,mydear,
Itisnotsodreadfulhere.”
—EdnaSt.VincentMillay,CollectedPoems
Thebleedingheartisapinkandwhiteflowerthatbearsastrikingresemblancetotheconventionalheartshape.Itisalsoreferredtoastheheartfloweroraslady-in-bath.
Theflowerisknowntobepoisonoustothetouchanddeadlytoconsume.
And,likethemythologicalgoddessPersephone,itonlyblossomsinspring.Mylovestorystartedwithadeath.
Withthesoundofmysoulshatteringonthehospicefloorlikedelicatechina
AndAuntieTilda,wiltinginsideherhospitalbed,herbreathrattlinginheremptylungslikeapenny.
Isoakedherhospitalgownwithtears,clutchingthefabricinmylittlefists,ignoringMomma’ssoftpleastogetoffherillsister.
“Pleasedon’tleave,Auntie.Please,”Icroaked.
Thecancerhadspreadtoherlungs,liver,andkidneys,makingitexcruciatingformyaunttobreathe.Forthepastfewweeks,she’ssleptsittingupright,fallinginandoutofconsciousness.
Attwelve,deathwasanabstractconcepttome.Real,butalsoforeignandfaraway.Somethingthathappenedinotherfamilies,tootherpeople.
Iunderstoodwhatitmeantnow.
AuntieTildawasnevergoingtoscoopmeinherarms,pretendingtostrumherfingersonmelikeIwasanairguitaragain.
She’dneverpickBelleandmeupfromschoolwithZiplocbagsfullofappleslicesandstrawberrieswheneverourparentsworkedlonghours.
She’dneverbraidmyhairagain,whisperingmagicaltalesaboutGreekgodsandthree-headedmonsters.
Myaunttuckedwispsofblondcurlsbehindmyear.HereyesshimmeredwithsicknesssotangibleIcouldtasteitonmytongue.
“Leave?”Shebelched.“Oh,my,that’sabigword.I’dneverdothat,Persy.Dead,alive,andin-between,Iwillalwaysbethereforyou.”
“Buthow?”Ituggedathergown,clingingtoherpromise.“HowwillIknowyou’rereallyhereafteryourbodyisgone?”
“Justturnyourfaceup,yousillygoose.Theskywillalwaysbeours.That’swherewe’llmeet,betweenthesunraysandtheclouds.”
Onhot,stickysummers,AuntieTildaandIwouldlieonthegrassbyCharlesRiver,cloud-spotting.Thecloudscameandwentlikepassengersatatrainstation.First,we’dcountthem.Thenwe’dchoosethefunny-shaped,extrafluffyones.Thenwe’dgivethemnames.
Mr.andMrs.ClaudiaandClaudClowdton.
MistyandSmokyFrost.
AuntieTildabelievedinmagic,inmiracles,andI?Well,Ibelievedinher
Whilemyoldersister,Emmabelle,chasedaftersquirrels,playedsoccerwiththeboys,andclimbedtrees,AuntieTildaandIadmiredthesky.
“Willyougivemeasign?”Ipressed.“Thatyou’rethereinthesky?Alightning?Rain?Oh,Iknow!Maybeapigeoncanpooponme.”
Mommaputherhandonmyshoulder.InthewordsofmysisterBelle—Ineededtotakeachillpill,andfast.
“Let’smakeadeal,”myauntsuggested,laughingbreathlessly.“Asyouknow,cloudsaremorereliablethanshootingstars.Common,butstillmagical.Whenthetimecomesandyougrowup,askforsomethingyouwant—somethingyoureallywant—whenyouseealonecloudinthesky,andIwillgrantittoyou.That’showyou’llknowI’mtherewatching.Youonlygetonemiracle,Persephone,sobecarefulwhatyouwishfor.ButIpromise,whateveryourwishmaybe—Iwillgrantittoyou.”
I’dkeptmyCloudWishforelevenyears,harboringitlikeapreciousheirloom.
Ididn’tuseitwhenmygradesslipped.
WhenElliottFrasiercameupwiththenicknamePussyfannyPeen-risesophomoreyear,anditstuckuntilgraduation.
NotevenwhenDadgotlaidoffandMcDonald’sandhotwaterbecamerareluxuries.
Intheend,IwastedtheCloudWishinone,recklessmoment.
Onadoomeddesire,astupidcrush,anunrequitedlover.
OnthemaneverymediaoutletinAmericareferredtoasTheVillain.
OnCillianFitzpatrick.
ThreeYearsAgo.
Iwasdrunkbeforenoonthedaymybestfriend,Sailor,gotmarried.
Typically,Iwasfun-drunk.Responsibledrunk.Thekindofdrunkwhotalkedalittlelouder,snort-laughed,anddancedlikenoonewaswatching,butalsocalledanUber,savedherfriendsfrombadhookups,andneverletanyoneinmyvicinitygetatattootheyweregoingtoregretthenextmorning.
Notthistime.
Thistime,Iwascrank-up-the-Enola-Gayplastered.ThekindofhammeredtoendupinthehospitalwithanIVdrip,anoopsiebaby,andacriminalrecord.
TherewereavarietyofreasonsIwassodrunk,andIwouldpointallofthemoutifIwereabletoholdasteadyfingerintheair.
Theproblemwas,nowwastheworstpossibletimetobeindisposed.Iwasonbridesmaidduty.Thetwenty-three-year-old—drumroll,please—flowergirl!
Wasitweirdtobeafull-grownflowergirl?Why,notatall.Itwasanhonor
Okay,fine.Itwasalittleembarrassing.
Andbyalittleembarrassing,Imeansoul-crushinglyhumiliating.
Yetsayingnowasoutofthequestion.
IwasPersephone.
Theeasygoing,even-tempered,roll-with-the-punchesdesignatedfriend.
Theonewhokeptthepeaceanddroppedeverythingwhensomeoneneededhelp.
Aisling,whowasabouttobecomeSailor’ssister-in-law,wasinchargeofholdingtheeight-foottrain,àlaPippaMiddleton,andmysister,Emmabelle,wasresponsiblefortherings.
ThorncrownChapelwasaluxuriousweddingvenueontheMassachusettscoastline.Themedievalcastleloomingoveracliffboastedfiftyacresofold-worldarchitecture,French-importedlimestone,privategardens,andaviewoftheocean.Thebridalsuitewasanoatmeal-huedapartmentthatofferedaclaw-foottub,afrontporch,andfourfullyequippedvanities.
Allexpensesforthelavishweddingwerepaidbythegroom,HunterFitzpatrick’sfamily.Sailorwasmarryingup,climbinghighupthesocialladder.
TheFitzpatricksstoodshoulder-to-shoulderwiththeRockefellers,theKennedys,andtheMurdochs.
Rich,powerful,influential,and—atleast,accordingtotherumors—withenoughskeletonsintheirclosettoopenacemetery.
ItwascrazytothinkthegirlI’dplayedhopscotchwithasakidandwholetmecutherbangswasgoingtobecomeanAmericanprincessinlessthananhour
Itwasevencrazierthatshewastheonewhointroducedmetothemanwhonowoccupiedninetypercentofmybrain’scapacityandvirtuallyallmydreams.
Thevillainwhobrokemyheartwithoutevennoticingmyimmortalexistence.
Tryingtosoberup,Ipacedbackandforthintheroom,stoppingatthewindow.Ileanedoverthesill,tiltingmyfaceuptothesummersky.Alonecloudglidedlazilybehindthesun,holdingapromiseforagorgeousday.
“AuntieTilda,fancyseeingyouhere!How’veyoubeen?”
Itwasn’tthefirsttimeI’dspokentoacloudlikeitwasmydeadaunt,soIcouldn’tblamemylevelofintoxicationonthisparticularquirk.“Weather’slookingfine.Sailorisgoingtoappreciateit.HowdoIlook?”
Itwirledinmypine-greengowninfrontofthewindow,givingmyhairaplayfultoss.“Thinkhe’llfinallynoticeme?”
Theclouddidn’tneedtorespondformetoknowtheanswer—no.
Hewasn’tgoingtonoticeme.
Heneverdid.
IhighlydoubtedheevenknewIexisted.
FiveyearsI’dknownhim,andhehadyettospeakawordtome.
Heavingasigh,IgrabbedtheflowersI’dpickedearlieroutsidethesuiteandpressedthemtomynosewithagreedybreath.Theysmelledwarmandfresh,spring-like.
TheflowerswerepinkandshapedlikeaValentine’sheart.Iwovesomeoftheminmyhair,whichwaspartlycoiffedatthetop.
Oneoftheirthornsprickedmyfinger,andIliftedit,suckingonthedropofblooditproduced.Thestickinessofthesapfilledmymouth,andIgroaned.
“Iknow,Iknow,Ishouldjustgetoverhim.Moveon.”
Iquicklylickedallmyfingerstogetridofthenectar.“There’safinelinebetweenbeingaromanticandamoron.IthinkI’vestraddleditaboutfouryearstoolong.”
I’dbeenharboringmyobsessiontotheeldestFitzpatrickbrotherforthepastfiveyears.Halfafreakingdecade.I’dcomparedeveryguyIdatedtotheunattainabletycoon,senthimstarry-eyedlooks,andcompulsivelyreadeverypieceofinformationabouthiminthemedia.Simplydecidingtoforgetabouthimwasn’tgoingtocutit.I’dtriedthatbefore.
Ineededtogobigorgohome.
Inthiscase,IneededtouseAuntieTilda’swishandasktomoveon.
Iopenedmymouthtomakethewish,butjustasIbegantoutterthewords,mythroatcloggedup.
Idroppedtheflowersinmyhand,stumblingtothemirror.Arashfannedacrossmynecklikeapossessivemalepalm.Therubicundstainspreadsouth,dippingintothevalleybetweenmybreasts.Everyinchofmyfleshwasturningscarlet.
HowinthehelldidIhaveanallergicreaction?Iwastooanxioustoeatanythingallmorning.
Maybeitwasjealousy.
Agreen,pointy-toothedmonsterclawingitswayoutofmyheart.Remindingmethatbeingabridewasmydream,notSailor’s,darnit.
Sure,itwasn’tfeminist,orinspiring,orprogressive,butitdidn’tmakeitanylessthetruth.Mytruth.
Iwantedmarriage,awhitepicketfence,gigglybabiesindiapersroamingaroundfreelyinmybackyard,andsmellyLabradorschasingthem.
WheneverIallowedmyselftothinkaboutit(whichwasn’tveryoften),theunfairnessofitrubbedmeoffmybreath.Sailorwasthemostasexualthingintheworldafterasurgicalfacemaskbeforeshe’dmetHunter.
Yetshewastheonewhoendedupmarryingbeforeallofus.
Aknockonthedoorsnappedmeoutofmytrance.
“Pers?”myoldersister,Emmabelle—Belleforshort—croonedfromtheotherside.“Theceremonystartsintwentyminutes.What’stakingyousolong?”
Well,Belle,IlookshockinglysimilartoaCheetos,bothincolorandcomplexion.
“Youbettergetyourassingear.Ourgirlhasalreadypukedinthelimo’strashcantwice,cursedthegroomlikeapiratefornotelopinginVegas,andoneofheracrylicnailsisplayingAmeliaEarhart.”
“Howdoyoumean?”Ishoutedbackthroughthesuite’sdoor.
“It’sdisappeared.Hopefullynotinherhairdo.”Iheardthegrininmysister’svoice.“Oh,bytheway.CanyoubringHunter’sringifhisbrotherdoesn’tshowuptotakeit?Technically,it’sCillian’sjob,buthe’sprobablyinthegardens,skinningafemaleemployeeandmakingfashionablecoatsoutofherflesh.”
Cillian.
Mystomachclenchedatthementionofhisname.
“Rogerthat.I’llbethereinfiveminutes.”
Iheardmysister’sheelsclickingassheleft,headingbacktothewaitinglimo.
Iglancedaroundtheroom.
HowcanImakethisstupidrashgoaway?
Mentallysnappingmyfingers,IlookedaroundforAisling“Ash”Fitzpatrick’spurse,findingitonthebed.Irummagedthroughit,flickingawayBand-Aids,aSwissknife,andathumb-sizemakeupkit.ShemusthaveBenadrylandantihistamines.ShewasaGirlScout,readyforanyoccasion,beitarash,abrokennail,aWorldWar,orasuddenpandemic.
“Bingo.”Ituggedaskin-soothingointmenttubefromthediamond-studdedHermès.Iscrubbedthelotiononmyskin,pleasedwithmydrunkenself,whenthedoorbehindmeflungopen.
“Fiveminutes,Belle.”Myeyeswerestillgluedtomyblemishedarms.“Andyeah,Iremember,Hunter’sring…”
Ilookedup.Myjawslackedastherestofmywordsshriveledbackintomythroat.Theointmentslippedbetweenmyfingers.
Cillian“Kill”Fitzpatrickstoodatthedoor.
HunterFitzpatrick’solderbrother.
ThemosteligiblebachelorinAmerica.
Astoneheartedheirwithafacesculptedfrommarble.
Attainableasthemoon,andjustascoldandwavering.
Mostimportantofall:themanI’dlovedinsecretsincethefirstdayI’dlaideyesonhim.
Hisauburnhairwasslickedback,hiseyesapairofsmokyambers.Honey-rimmedyetlackinganywarmth.HeworeanEdwardiantux,achunkyRolex,andtheslightfrownofamanwhoregardedanyonehecouldn’tscrewormakemoneyoutofasaninconvenience.
Hewasalwayscalm,quiet,andreserved,neverdrawingattentiontohimselfyetowningeveryroomheentered.
Unlikehissiblings,Cillianwasn’tbeautiful.
Notintheconventionalsense,anyway.Hisfacewastoosharp,hisfeaturestoobold,hissneertoomocking.Hisstrongjawandhoodedeyesdidn’tharmonizetogetherinasymphonyofflawlessstrokes.ButtherewassomethingdecadentabouthimthatIfoundmorealluringthanthestraightforwardnessinHunter’sApollo-likeperfectionortheAisling’sSnowWhitebeauty.
Cillianwasadirtylullaby,invitingmetosinkintohisclawsandnestleinhisdarkness.
AndI,aptlynamedafterthegoddessofspring,longedforthegroundtocrackopenandsuckmein.Tofallintohisunderworldandneveremerge.
Whoa.Thatlastmimosareallykilledwhateverwasleftofmybraincells.
“Cillian,”Ichokedout.“Hello.Hey.Hi.”
Soeloquent,Pers.
Ipepperedmygreetingbyscratchingmyneck.Itwasjustmylucktobealonewithhiminaroomforthefirsttimeeverwhilelookingandfeelinglikeaballoflava.
Cillianambledtowardthesafewiththeindolenteleganceofabigcat,oozingrawdangerthatmademytoescurl.HisindifferenceoftenmademewonderifIwasevenintheroomwithhim.
“Threeminutesuntilthelimoleaves,Penrose.”
SoIdidexist.
“Thankyou.”
Mybreathingbecamelabored,slow,andIwasstartingtorealizeImightneedtocallanambulance.
“Areyouexcited?”Imanaged.
Noresponse.
Themetaldoorofthesafeclickedmechanically,unlocking.HetookouttheblackvelvetboxofHunter’sring,pausingtolookatme,hiseyesslidingfrommyredfaceandarmstothepinkandwhiteflowerscrowningmyhead.Somethingpassedacrosshisfeatures—amomentofhesitation—beforeheshookhishead,thenmadehiswaybacktothedoor.
“Wait!”Icried.
Hestoppedbutdidn’tturntofaceme.
“Ineed…Ineed…”Abettervocabulary,obviously.“Ineedyoutocallanambulance.IthinkI’mhavinganallergicreaction.”
Heswiveledonhisheel,assessingme.Everysecondunderhisscrutinydroppedmytemperaturebytendegrees.SharingaspacewithCillianFitzpatrickwasanexperience.Likesittinginanobscure,vacantcathedral.
Atthatmoment,IwishedIweremysister,Emmabelle.
Shewouldtellhimtostickhisattitudewherethesundon’tshine.Thendraghimintooneoftheprivategardensaftertheceremonyandridehisface.
ButIwasn’tBelle.IwasPersephone.
Timid,nice,GoodyTwo-shoesPersy.
Missionary-sex-with-the-lights-offPers.
Theawkwardromantic.
Thepeople-pleaser.
Theboringone.
Therewasabeatofsilencebeforehetookastepbackintotheroom,closingthedoorafterhim.
“Notmuchgoingoninsidethatprettyhead,huh?”
Hesighed,discardinghisblazeronthebed,thenunbuttoninghiscufflinks.Hikinghisdressshirtuphismuscledforearms,hestaredmedownwithdissatisfaction.
Mybodyhaddecidedthiswasagreattimeasanytocollapseonthefloor,soitdidjustthat.Icrashedonthecarpet,heavingasItriedtodrawmynextbreath.
Sothat’showAuntieTildafelt.
Unaffectedbymyfall,Cillianflickedthefaucetoftheclaw-footbathinthemiddleoftheroom,turningthetaptotheblueside,sothewaterwouldbeice-cold.
Satisfiedwiththewatertemperature,hesteppedtowardme,rolledmeoveronmystomachwiththetipofhisloafers—likeIwasasandbag—andleaneddown,pressinghispalmtothebaseofmyspine.
“Whatareyou—”Igasped.
“Don’tworry.”Hetorethecorseteddressfrommybodywithonelongmovement.Theviolentsoundoffabricrippingandbuttonspoppingslicedthroughtheair.“Mytastesdon’truntolittlegirls.”
Therewasanagedifferentbetweenus.Twelveyearsweren’tsomethingyoucouldeasilydisregard.Itneverbotheredme,though.
Whatdidbothermewasmynewstateofnakedness.Ishiveredlikealeafbeneathhim.
“Whatthehelldidyoudo?”Ishrieked.
“You’repoisoned,”heannouncedmatter-of-factly.
Thatmademesoberup.
“I’mwhat?”
Hekickedthepinkflowersnexttomeinanswer.Theycareenedtotheothersideoftheroom.
Mybreathbecameshallower,morelabored.Thevitalityseepedoutofmybody.Theechoofgurglingwaterpouringintothetubwasmonotoneandsoothing,andsuddenly,Iwasexhausted.Iwantedtosleep.
“Ifoundtheminthegardenoutsidethesuite,”Imurmured,mylipsheavy.MyeyeswidenedasIrealizedsomething.
“Itastedthem,too.”
“Ofcourseyouwould.”Hisvoicedrippedsarcasm.Hehoistedmeoverhisshoulderandcarriedmetotherestroom.Dumpingmylimpbodybythetoilet,heliftedmyheadbyfistingmyhair.Mykneesscreamedinpain.Hewasn’tgentle.
“I’mgoingtomakeyouthrowup,”heannounced,andwithoutanyfurtherintro,hestucktwoofhislargefingersdownmythroat.Deep.Igagged,vomitingimmediatelywhileheheldmyhead.
InthewordsofJoeExotic,Iamnevergoingtorecoverfromthis.Cillianholdingmyhairwhileheismakingmepuke.
IemptiedmystomachuntilCillianwassureeverythingwasgone.Onlythendidhewipemyfacewithhisbarehand,undeterredbythepukeresidue.
“What’rethey,anywhmm?”Islurred,restingmyheadonthetoiletseat.“Theflowers.”
Hescoopedmeinhisarmswithfrighteningease,walkingacrosstheroom,anddumpingmeontothebed.Iwasstarknaked,saveforaskin-coloredthong.
Iheardhimrummagingthroughthecabinets.Myeyesflutteredopen.Grabbingafirst-aidkit,heproducedasmallbottleofmedicineandasyringe,frowningatthetinyinstructionsonthevialashespoke.
“BleedingHearts.Knownforbeingbeautiful,rare,andtoxic.”
“Justlikeyou,”Imurmured.WasIseriouslycrackingjokesonmydeathbed?
Heignoredmyrivetingobservation.
“Youwereabouttopoisonanentirechapel,Emmalynne.”
“I’mPersephone.”Myeyebrowspinched.
FunnyhowIcouldbarelybreathe,butIstillmanagedtotakeoffenseatbeingconfusedwithmysister.“Andmysister’snameisEmmabelle,notEmmalynne.”
“Areyousure?”heaskedwithoutlookingup,stickingthesyringeintothebottleanddrawingtheliquidintoit.“Idon’tremembertheyoungeronebeingsomouthy.”
IwasfiledunderTheYoungerOneinhismemory.Great.
“AmIsureIamwhoIam,orwhatmysister’snameis?”Iresumedmyscratching,aboutasdemureasawildogre.“Eitherway,theanswerisyes.I’mpositive.”
Myoldersisterwasthememorableone.
Shewaslouder,taller,morevoluptuous;herhairwasthedazzlingshadeofchampagne.Normally,Ididn’tmindbeingovershadowed.ButIhatedthatKillrememberedEmmabelleandnotme,evenifhegothernamewrong.
ItwasthefirsttimeinmylifeIresentedmysister.
Killloweredhimselftotheedgeofthebed,slappinghisknee.
“Onmylap,FlowerGirl.”
“No.”
“Thewordshouldn’tevenbeinyourvocabularywithme.”
“TurnsoutI’mfullofsurprises.”Mymouthmovedoverthelinen.IknewIwasdrooling.NowthatIwasbreathingbetter,Inoticedthestenchofpukefrommybreath.
Iturnedmyheadintheotherdirectiononthebed.Maybedyingwasn’tsuchabadidea.ThemanI’dbeenobsessedwithforyearswasamassiveprickanddidn’tevenknowmyname.
“Idon’tcareifIdie,”Icroaked.
“Ditto,sweetheart.Unfortunately,you’llhavetodoitonsomeoneelse’swatch.”
Hisarmscamearoundmybody,andhedrapedmeoverhislegs.Mybreastsspilledoverhismuscularthigh,mynipplesbrushingagainsthispants.Mybuttwasalignedwithhisface,allowinghimaperfectview.Luckily,Iwastooweaktofeelembarrassed.
“Staystill.”
Heeasedtheneedleintomyrightbuttock,slowlyreleasingtheliquidintomybloodstream.Thesteroidshitmysystemimmediately,andIsuckedinalungfulofoxygen,mymouthopeningagainsthisthigh.Imoanedinrelief,mybackarching.Ifeltabulgenestlingagainstmybody.Itwasthickandlong,splayingacrossmostofmybelly.Thatthingbelongedinariflecase,notavagina.
Andtheplotthickens.
Itwasn’ttheonlythingthatdidjustthat.
Westayedlikethisfortenseconds,withmeregainingmybreath,gulpingpreciousair,andhimpickingtheflowersfrommyhairwithsurprisingtenderness.Hedisposedoftheflowersinsideanapkin,thenfoldeditafewtimes.Heputonehandonmybuttcheekandpulledthesyringeoutslowly,causingripplesofdesiretorunalongmybody.
Myheaddroppedtothebed.
Iwasshamefullyclosetoanorgasm.
“Thankyou,”Isaidquietly,pushingmypalmsuponthebedtorise.Heplasteredahandovermyback,loweringmedowntolieacrosshislap.
“Don’tmove.Yourbathshouldbereadyanyminute.”
Hehadtheeerie,irritatingabilitytotreatmelikedirtwhilesavingmeatthesametime.Stuckinastateofdrunkenness,gratefulness,andmortification,Ifollowedhisinstructions.
“So.Persephone.”Hetastedmynameonhistongue,rollingmypantiesdownmylegswithhisstrong,longfingers.“Didyourparentsknowyouweregoingtobeinsufferableandpunishedyouinadvancewithastripper’sname,orweretheyonaGreekmythologykick?”
“MyAuntieTildanamedme.Shebattledbreastcancer,onandoff.TheweekIwasborn,shegottheallclearafterherfirstroundofchemo.Mymotherlethernamemeasapresent.”
Inhindsight,theyweretooquicktocelebrate.Thecancercamebackinfullforceafewyearslater,claimingmyaunt’slife.AtleastIhadafewgoodyearswithher.
“Theycouldn’tsayno.”Cilliantossedmypantiesonthefloor.
“Ilovemyname.”
“It’stacky.”
“Itmeanssomething.”
“Nothingmeansanything.”
Iwhippedmyheadtoflashhimanangrylook,mycheekshotwithanger.“Whateveryousay,Dr.Seuss.”
Cilliantookoffmyheels,leavingmecompletelynaked.Hediscardedmeonthebedtostandupandturnoffthefaucet,thenhetookaseatontheedgeofthebathtub.
“Lady-in-bath.”Heswirledhisfingerinthewater,checkingthetemperature.
Icockedmyheadfrommypositiononthebed.
“That’sanothernameforthebleedingheart,”heexplainedaloofly.“Getin.”
Heturnedhisbacktome,allowingmesomeprivacy.Isteppedintothebath,suckinginabreath.Thewaterwasice-cold.
Cilliantextedonhisphonewhilethearcticwatersoothedmyskin.Iwasalreadyfeelingmuchbetteraftertheshot.DespitethrowingupmostofwhatI’deatenanddrankthatmorning,Iwasstilllush.Silencestretchedbetweenus,punctuatedbystaffandeventcoordinatorsbarkinginstructionsbeyondthesuite’swalls.Iknewthatdespitetheawkwardsituation,IonlyhadonechancetotellhimhowIfelt.Theoddswereagainstme.Otherthanhiserectionathavingmebucknakedonhislap,heseemedturnedoffbymyveryexistence.
Butitwasnowornever,andneverwastoolongatimetolivewithoutthemanIloved.
“Iwantyou.”Iproppedmyheadagainstthecoolsurfaceofthebath.Thewordssoakedthewallsandceiling,andthetruthfilledtheair,chargingitwithelectricity.UsingtheL-wordwastoointimate.Tooscary.IknewwhatIfeltforhimwaslove—despitehisrudebehavior—butIalsoknewhewouldneverbelieveme.
Hishandsbusiedoverhisphone.Maybehedidn’thearme.
“I’vealwayswantedyou,”Isaid,louder.
Noresponse.
Agluttonforpunishment,Icontinued,myprideandconfidencecollapsingbrickbybrick.
“SometimesIwantyousomuchithurtstobreathe.Sometimesthepainfrombreathingisanicedistractionfromwantingyou.”
Aknockonthedoormadehimdartup.Aislingwasonthethreshold,holdingareplicaofthebridesmaidsdressweallwore.
“Yousaidyouneededmyextragown?Whyonearth…”Shetrailedoff,takingmeinbehindherbrother’sshoulder.Hereyesflared.
“HolyMotherMary.Didyoutwo…?”
“Notinamillionyears,”Cilliansnapped,pluckingthedressfromhissister’shand.“Stallthelimo.She’llbedowninfiveminutes.”
Withthat,heslammedthedoorinherface,thenlockeditforgoodmeasure.
Notinamillionyears.
White-hotpanicmixedwithgoodoleembarrassmentcoursedthroughmyveins.
Realitysankin.
I’dpoisonedmyself.
RambledtoCilliandrunkenly.
Lethimundressme,makemepuke,givemeashot,hurlmeintothebathtub.
Thenconfessedmyundyingloveforhimwithvomitpiecesstilldecoratingmymouth.
Killthrewabathrobeintomyhands,allbusiness.
“Dryup.”
Ispranguponmyfeet,doingasIwastold.
HeroundedonmewithAisling’ssparedress,helpingmeintoit.
“Idon’twantyourhelp,”Ibitout,feelingmycheeksflush.
Stupid,stupid,stupid.
“Idon’tcarewhatyouwant.”
Pursingmylips,Iwatchedhisdarkfigureinthemirrorashefastenedmycorset,workingquickerandmoreefficientlythananyseamstressI’deverseeninaction.Itwasjarring.Hisfingersmovedlikemagicaroundtheribbon,loopingitintothehoopsexpertlytotiemelikeabowedpresent.
ItdawnedonmeheknewIwaspoisonedfromthemomenthesteppedintotheroomandsawtheflowersinmyhair,buthadn’tofferedtohelpmeuntilIaskedhimtocallanambulance.
Icouldhavedied.
Hewasn’tkiddingwhenhesaidheonlysavedmebecausehedidn’twantmetodieonhiswatch—hehonestlydidn’tcare.
Cilliantuggedatthesatinstringsofmydress,tighteningitaroundme.
“You’rehurtingme,”Ihissed,narrowingmyeyesatthemirrorinfrontofus.
“That’swhatyougetforhavingableedingheart.”
“Theflower,ororgan?”
“Both.Oneisafastpoison.Theotherslow,butjustasdestructive.”
Myeyesclungtohiminourreflection.Gracefulandself-assured.Hestoodtallandproud,neverusedprofanity,andwasthemostmeticulouspersonIknew.
ItwaswhatIadmiredabouthimthemost.Thethinfilmofpropernessengulfingthechaosteeminginsidehim.Iknewthatunderneaththeflawlessexteriorlaidsomethinguntamedanddangerous.
Itfeltlikeoursecret.TheperfectCillianFitzpatrickwas,infact,notsoperfect.AndallIwantedwastofindouthow.
“Youweren’tgoingtohelpme.Youweregoingtoleavemetodie.”Mytonewasfrighteninglymild.Ibecamemoresoberwitheachpassingsecond.“Whydidyou?”
“Apoisonedbridesmaidmakesbadpress.”
“Andtheysaychivalryisdead,”Isaidsarcastically.
“Chivalrymightbedead,butyou’renot,soshutupandbegrateful.”Hegavethesatincordsanotheryank.Iwinced.
Hedidhaveapoint.Cilliannotonlysavedmethismorningbuthealsodidn’ttryanyfunnybusinessandwasprobablyrunningjustaslateasIwasnowbecausemydumbasshaddecidedtopickpoisonousflowers.
Begrudgingly,Imuttered,“Thanks.”
Hearchedaneyebrow,asiftoask—forwhat?
“Forbeingagentleman,”Iclarified.
Oureyesclashedinthemirror.
“I’mnogentleman,FlowerGirl.”
Hefinishedwithafinalpull,thensteppedawayandpickeduphisblazerfromthemattress.Ihadtothinkonmyfeet,fast.Mygazedriftedtothewindow.Thelonecloudwasstillthere.
Watchingme.
Tauntingme.
Waitingtobeused.
Youonlygetonemiracle.
Thisonewasworthit.
Itookadeepbreathandsaidthewordsaloud,notwantingtohalf-assitincasetherewasafineprintandIneededtodothewholeHocusPocusthing.
“Iwishyou’dfallinlovewithme.”
Thewordssurgedoutofmymouthlikeablizzard,makinghimfreezemidstrideonhiswaytothedoor.Heturnedaround,hisfaceaperfectmaskofharshbrutality.
Drawingabreath,Icontinued.
“Iwishyou’dfallinlovewithmesohardyouwon’tbeabletothinkaboutanythingelse.Toeat.Tobreathe.WhenmyAuntTildadied,shegrantedmeonemiracle.ThisisthewishIchoose.Yourlove.There’saworldbeyondyouricewalls,CillianFitzpatrick,anditisfulloflaughterandjoyandwarmth.”Itookastepinhisdirection,mykneeswobbling.“I’mgoingtopaybackyourfavor.I’mgoingtosaveyourlifeinmyownway.”
Acurse.
Aspell.
Ahope.
Adream
Forthefirsttimesinceheenteredtheroom,Isawsomethingresemblingcuriosityonhisface.Evenmynakedbodysplayedonhislapdidn’tmakehimasmuchasblinktwice.Butthis?Thispiercedhisexterior,evenifitonlymadethetiniestofcracks.Hisbrowspinched,andheadvancedtowardme,erasingthespacebetweenusinthreeconfidentstrides.Outside,BelleandAislingbangedtheirfistsonthedoor,yellingthatwewerelate.
Myentirelifespunoutoffocusatthatmoment.Mycarefullycraftedfantasyunravelingintoanightmare.
Cilliantippedmychinupwithhisfinger,hiseyeshardonmine.
“Listentomecarefully,Persephone,becauseIwillonlysayitonce.Youaregoingtowalkoutofthisroomandforgetyouknowme,justasI’vefailedtonoticeyourexistencethusfar.Youwillmeetanice,sane,boringguy.Aperfectfitforyournice,sane,boringself.You’llgetmarriedtohim,havehisbabies,andthankyourluckystarsIwasn’thornyenoughtotakeyouuponyourlessthansubtleoffer.I’mgivingyouthegiftofturningyoudown.Takeitandrunforthehills.”
Hesmiledforthefirsttime,anditwassounpleasant,sotwistedthatitknockedthebreathoutofmychest.Hissmiletoldmehewasn’thappy.Hadn’tbeenforyears.Decades,even.
“Whydoyouhateme?”Iwhispered.
Tearsblurredmyvision,butIrefusedtoletthemfall.
“Hateyou?”Hewipedthetearswiththebackofhishand.“Ihavenofeelings,Persephone.Notforyou.Notatall.Iamincapableofhatingyou.ButIwillalsonever,everloveyou.”Present.
ThecobblestonesidewalkdugintomyfeetthroughmycheapshoesasIsecuredmybicycletothebikerack.
DarknesswashedthestreetinNorthEnd.Pubworkershurledfat,soggytrashbagsintothejawsofindustrialcontainers,chattingandlaughing,ignoringthesheetsofrainfallingfromthesky.
Isaidasilentprayerthey’dstayonthestreetuntilImadeitsafelytomybuilding.Ihatedcominghomelatebutcouldn’tsaynotothebabysittinggigI’dbeenofferedafterschoolhours.Collectingthehemofmywetdress,Ihurriedtomydoor.Ipusheditopen,pressingmybacktoitwitharelievedsigh.
Ahandshottomeinthedark,yankingmywristandflingingmeacrosstheroom.Mybackslammedagainstthestairway,andpainexplodedfrommytailbonetomyneck.
“Mrs.Veitch.Fancyseeingyouhere.”
Eveninthepitchblack,IrecognizedColinByrne’svoice.Itwassmoothandlow,ahintofmockeryliltinghisSouthieaccent.
“It’sMissPenrose.”Irusheduptomyfeet,swattingstrandsofwethairoffmyfaceanddustingmyknees.Iflippedtheswitchon.Yellowlightpooledinsidethehallway.TomKaminski—simplyKaminskitoanyonewhoknewhim—Byrne’serrandboyandmuscleman,stoodbehindthelean,wrinkledloansharkwithhisburlyarmscrossedathischest.
Byrnecoveredthedistancebetweenus,thestrongscentofhiscolognepricklingmygagreflex.
“Penrose?Nah,that’snotthenameonyourdriver’slicense,Persybaby.”
“Iaskedforadivorce.”Itookastepbackfromhim,schoolingmyface.
“Well,IaskedforathreesomewithDemiLovatoandTaylorSwift.Lookslikewebothain’tgettingourwish,doll.Thefactofthematteris,you’remarriedtoPaxtonVeitch,andPaxtonVeitchowesmemoney.Ashit-tonofit.”
“Exactly.Paxtonowesyou,”Isaidhotly,knowingIwasenteringalostwar.Byrnewouldn’tlisten.Heneverdid.“Hewastheoneplacingthosebets.Hewastheonelosingmoneyatyourjoints.It’shismesstofix,notmine.”
Colinliftedmylefthand,rubbingatmynakedweddingfinger.Theimprintedtanlinewheretheringusedtobeglaredbackatbothofus,remindingmethatmyrelationshipwithPaxwasn’tancienthistory.
NotonlywasIstillmarriedtohimbutIalsostillhonoredmyvows.Ihadn’tdatedanyonesincePaxranaway.Hell,Istillvisitedhisgrandmainthenursinghomeeveryweek,bearingshortbreadcookiesandherfavoriteculinarymagazines.
Shewaslonely,anditwasn’therfaulthergrandsonturnedouttobeadick
“Pax’slonggonenow,andhisprettywiferefusestoletmeknowwhereIcanfindhim.”Byrne’svelvetvoicepiercedmythoughtswhileheplayedwithmyfingers.
“Hiswifedoesn’tknowwhereheis.”Itriedtoyankmyhandawaytonoavail.“Butshedoesknowhowtousepepperspray.Personalspacehere.”
Ididn’twantBelle,whowasupstairs,tohearthecommotioninthehallwayandcomeoutoftheapartmenttoinvestigate.Sheknewnothingaboutmysituation,andIwasprettysuremysavagesisterwouldnothesitatetotakeouttheGlocksheownedandputaholeineachofthesebastard’sheadsifshewalkedintothisscene.
Ididn’twanttoburdenBellewithmyproblems.Notthisparticularproblem,anyway.Notaftereverythingshe’dalreadydoneforme.
“Useyourfineinvestigativeskillstofindout,”Byrnebeamed.“Afterall,youmanagedtocatchthelousiesthusbandinNewEngland.Youfoundhimbefore,andyoucandoitagain.Havealittlefaith.”
“WebothknowIhaven’tthegreenestcluewheretostartlooking.Hisphoneisdead,myemailsarebouncingback,andhisfriendswon’ttalktome.It’snotlikeIhaven’ttried.”IusedthehandColinheldtopushhisfaceawayroughly.
Hedidn’tbudge.Justwrappedhisfingerstighteraroundmine.
“ThenI’mafraidhisdebtisnowyours.Whateverhappenedtoinsicknessandinhealth?Forricherorpoorer?Howdoestheoathgo?”ByrnesnappedhisfingersatKaminskibehindhim.
Kaminskisnorted,flashingarowofrottenteeth.
“Beatsme,Boss.Nevergothitched.Ain’tplanningto,either.”
“Smartman.”
Byrnebroughtmyhandtohismouth,pressingacoldkisstothebackofit,dartinghistonguebetweenmyindexandmiddlefingers,showingmewhathewantedtodototherestofmybody.Iswallowedaballofpukeandbreathedthroughmynose.Hewasdoingagreatjobofscaringthebejesusoutofme,andheknewit.Byrnewasaloansharkwhowasnotoriousforcollectinghischecksrainorshine,andmyhusbandowedhimoverahundredthousanddollars.
Herestedmydamppalmonhischeek,nuzzlingagainstit.
“Sorry,Persephone.It’snothingpersonal.Ihaveadebttocollect,andifIdon’tcollectitsoon,peoplearegoingtoassumeit’sokaytotakemoneyfrommewithoutpayingmeback.Ifyou’reinterestedinreimbursingmethroughadifferentcurrency,Icanstitchtogetheraplan.I’mnotanunreasonableman.Butnomatterhowyoulookatit—youwillpayyourhusband’sdebt,andyoubetterhurry,becausetheinterestisstackingupnicelyastheweekstickby.”
“Whatareyouinsinuating?”Myheartjackhammereditswaythroughmyribcage,abouttoabandonshipandrunoutofthebuildingwithoutme.
ThisideahadnevercomeupbeforeinthemonthsByrneandKaminskihadbeenpayingmeweeklyvisits.Iwasapreschoolteacher,forcryingoutloud.WherewouldIbeabletofindonehundredthousanddollars?Evenmykidneysweren’tworththatmuch.
Andyes,IwasdesperateenoughtoGoogleit.
“I’msayingifyoucan’tpaytheoutstandingbalance,you’llhavetoworkforit.”
“Justspititout,Byrne,”Ihissed,everynerveinmybodyreadytoreachformypurse,grabthepepperspray,andemptythatbitchintoboththeireyes.Assleazyashewas,Idoubtedhewouldgiveupahundredgrandjusttorollmebetweenhissheets.
“Servingmenwhoarelessthanhygienicandnotmuchtolookat.”Colinsmiledapologetically.“You’reagood-lookinggal,Veitch,eveninthoserags.”Hetuggedatthemuddy,cheapdressIwore.“Sixmonthsworkinginmystripclubdoingdoubleshiftseveryday,andwecancalliteven.”
“I’lldiebeforeIdanceonapole,”Iseethed,pushingmyfingersintohiseyesocketswiththehandheheld.Hedodgedtheattackbyrearinghisheadback,butImanagedtoputafewscratchesonhischeek.
Kaminskisteppedforward,abouttointerfere,butByrnewavedhimoff,laughing.
“Youwon’tbedancing,”hesaid,hiseyesglintingwithamusement.“You’llbeonyourbackintheVIProom.AlthoughIcan’tpromiseyouwon’tbeonyourhandsandknees,too,ifthey’rewillingtopayextra.”
Theballofpukeinmythroattripleditssize,blockingmywindpipe.Acoldfilmofsweatcoveredeveryinchofmybody.
ByrnewantedtopimpmeoutifIdidn’tcomeupwiththemoneyPaxtonowedhim.IntheeightmonthsPaxtonhadbeengone,I’dstupidlyhopedhewoulddotherightthingandshowupattheeleventhhourtodealwiththeshitstormhe’dcreated,leavingmeintheeyeofit.
Thathe’dgrantmethedivorceI’dbeggedhimforinthedaysbeforehisdisappearance.
I’dheldontomyanger,refusingtoletitturnintoresignationbecausethatmeantacceptingthiswasmyproblem.
Now,IwasfinallycomingtotermswiththehardfactsByrnehadalreadyknown:
Paxtonwasnevercomingback.
Hisproblemswereminetodealwith.
AndIhadtocomeupwithasolution,fast
“WhatifIdon’tpay?”Myjawclenched.Iwasn’tgoingtocryinfrontofthem,nomatterwhat.Imaynothavebeenasfeistyandfierceasmyoldersister,butIwasstillaSouthieoriginal.
Asweetromantic—butasavage,nonetheless.
Byrne’sheavybootsclickedsoftlyasheambledtowardthebuilding’sentrance.“ThenI’llhavetomakeanexampleoutofyou.Which,Iassureyou,Mrs.Veitch,wouldhurtmemorethanitwouldyou.Itisalwaysasadstateofaffairswhenthewifehastotakeontheburdenofherhusband’smistakes.”Hestoppedbythedoorandshookhishead,wearingafarawaylookonhisface.“ButifIletthisslide,I’lllosemystreetcred.Youwillpay.Eitherinmoney,withthethingbetweenyourlegs,orwithyourblood.Catchyoulater,Persy.”
Thedoorclickedshutbehindthetwomen.Thunderrumbled,lickingtheirshapesthroughtheglassdoorinelectricblue.TheyrantoablackHummerparkedacrossthestreet,slippinginsideandgunningitbacktothehellholetheycamefrom.
Istumbledupthestairstomysister’sapartment.I’dbeenstayingwithhersincePaxtontookoffeightmonthsago.Shakilyturningthekeyinsideitshole,Ipushedthedooropen.
Ididn’tpayrent.BellethoughtPaxstoleallthemoneyheandIhadsavedtobuyahousewhenheranaway.Thatpartwasn’talie.Hedidtakeourmoney.Whatshedidn’tknowwasitwasn’tonlythathespentmyentirelife’ssavingsinanundergroundcasino—Iwasactuallyindebtbecauseofhim.
“Pers?Jeez,dude.There’sathunderstormoutside.”Bellerubbedathereyes,stretchingonthecouch.SheworeaFriesBeforeGuysoversizedshirt.AKoreandramadancedacrosstheflatTVscreen,andabagofpeanutbutterpretzelsbalancedonherflatstomach.AstabofjealousyprickedmychestasIwatchedherlyingthere.Trouble-freeandrelaxed.
Shedidn’thavetowonderifshewouldmakeittonextweekalivewithoutsellingherbodyinadingySouthiestripclub.
Shedidn’thaveherhandkissed,licked,andtwistedbyColinByrne,thescentofhischeapcolognelingeringinhernostrilsfordaysaftereachofhisvisits,makingherstomachchurn.
Shedidn’ttossandturnatnight,wonderinghowtosaveherselffromagorydeath.
Ihungmytatteredwindbreakerbythedoor.Emmabelle’sapartmentwastinybutfashionable.Astudiowithhardwoodflooring,trendypalm-treewallpaper,deepgreenceiling,andfunkymismatchedfurniture.Everythingsheownedandworedrippedofherbold,sophisticatedpersonality.Wesharedhertwinbed.
“Sorryaboutthat.Shannon’sparentswenttoadrive-inandmust’vegottencarriedaway.Ididn’tevenknowdrive-insstillexisted.Didyou?”Isteppedoutofmyholedshoesattheentrance,concealingmydespairwithasmile.
MaybeIshouldadmitdefeatanddowhatPaxtondid.CatchthenextflightoutoftheStatesanddisappear.
OnlyunlikePaxton,IwasattachedtotheplacewhereIgrewup.Icouldn’timaginemylifewithoutmysister,myparents,myfriends
Paxtonhadbeenlonely.Orphanedatagethree,hewasraisedbyhisgrandmotherGretaandvariousrelatives.Tossedbetweenhouseswheneverhegottoodifficult.Thatwaswhathetoldmewhenwefirstgottogether,andmyheartwentouttohim.
“Drive-ins?Sure.SomeofmyfavoritesexcapadeshappenedattheSolanodrive-in.Butit’sbeenrainingsohard,Idoubttheycouldwatchanythingthere.Youreallyshould’vecalledme.I’dhavepickedyouup.Youknowtonightismynightoff.”Shewiggledhertoesunderherthrow.
Exactly.Itwashernightoff.WhowasItotakeawaytheonlyfreenightshehadforherself?Shedeservedtodoexactlywhatshewasdoing.BingeonaTVshow,junkfood,andwearadiscountedfacemaskfromRoss.
“Youalreadydotoomuchforme.”
“That’sbecausethatbastard,Pax,screwedyouover.Remindmewhyyoumarriedhimagain?”
“Love?”Ploppingdownnexttoheronthemustardcorduroycouch,Iproppedmychinonhershoulderwithasigh.“IthoughtIwasrespectingourpact.”
Onceuponatime,whenwewereincollege,Sailor,Emmabelle,Aisling,andImadeapacttoonlymarryforlove.Sailorwasthefirsttokeepherword.Butshehappenedtofallforamanwhoworshippedthegroundshewalkedupon,lookedlikeaHemsworthbrother,andhadenoughmoneytostartanewcountry.
IwasthesecondinthegangtosayIdo.Afewhastykissesbehindcarefullytrimmedbusheswereallittookformetomakethebiggestmistakeofmylife.PaxtonVeitchwasColin’spreviousKaminski.Asimplesoldierwhomoonlightedasasecurityguyintheprivatesector.PaxtonalwaysmaintainedhewasabounceratoneofColin’sbars.Saidhewasgoingtoquitassoonashefoundamorestablejob.
Spoileralert:heneverlookedforone.Notonlydidhelovebeingathug,buthealsoenjoyedlosingthemoneyByrnepaidhiminhisjointswhenhewasoffduty.
Itwasn’tuntilIwastoofargonethatIfoundoutPaxtonwasn’tabouncer.Hebrokehands,noses,andspinesforaliving,andhadapolicerecordthickerthanLordoftheRings.I’dnevertoldBelle,Aisling,andSailorthatPaxwasalow-grademobster.They’dlovedhimalmostasmuchastheylovedHunter,andIdidn’twanttobursttheirbubble.
Andanyway,Paxtonwasn’tallbad.Hewashandsome,funny,andincrediblygood-heartedatthebeginningofourrelationship.Heleftmeloveletterseverywhere,packedmylunchboxformeeachnight,sentmeflowersfornoreasonatall,andarrangedspontaneousDisneyWorldvacationswherewe’ddrivedowntoFloridainourbeat-upcar,eatingcrappygasstationjunk,andsingingtomyPaulaAbdulandWham!playlistfromthetopofourlungs.
Astand-upguywho’dofferedtopaintmyparents’entirehouseforfreebeforetheysoldit,boughtmeanengagementringusingeverysinglecenthehadtohisname,andwasalwaystherewhenIneededhim.
Untilhewasn’t.
IthoughtIcouldhelphimgetontherightpath.Thatlovewouldconquerall
Turnedout,itcouldn’tconquerhisgamblingaddiction.
“Youstillbelieveinthatbitch?”Belletiltedthebagofpretzelsinmydirectioninoffering,pullingmeoutofmymusings.
“Inwhat?”Itookapretzel,munchingonitwithouttastingit.I’dbecomescarilythininthepastfewmonths.ThesideeffectofinheritingPaxton’sweightyproblems.
“Love.”Belleshotoneeyebrowup.“DoyoustillbelieveinloveafterPaxtookadumpallovertheconcept,thensetitonfire?”
“Yeah.”Ifeltmyearspinking,maskingmyembarrassmentwithachuckle.“Pathetic,right?”
Mysisterpattedmythigh.
“Wannatalkaboutit?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Wannadrinkaboutit?”
Inodded.Shelaughed.
“I’llheatsomepizza,too.”
Thethoughtofeatingmademewanttovomit.ButIalsoknewBellewasbecomingsuspicious,whatwithmyweightlossandinabilitytosleep.
“Pizzasoundsgreat.Thanks.”
Shestoodandsashayedovertothekitchenette.Iwatchedasshethrewthefridgedooropen,shakingherbutttoheroff-keywhistle.
“Belle?”Iclearedmythroat.
“Hmm?”Sheshovedasliceofpizzaintothemicrowave,settingthetimerforthirtyseconds.
“WhatdoyouthinkisgoingtohappenwithPax?”Igrabbedapillowandhuggedittomychest,pullingatathreadinit.“Ican’tstaymarriedtohimforever,right?I’llberelievedfromthismarriageatsomepointifhedoesn’tshowup?”
BellepluckedacanofPepsifromthefridge,tappingherlipsasshecontemplatedmyquestion.
“Well,marriageisnotapublicrestroom.I’mnotsureyoucanberelievedfromit,butyouforsurecangetoutofthisifyouputyourmindtoit.Themanhasn’tbeenaroundinalmostayear.Youneedtosaveup,getagoodlawyer,andfinishwiththismess.”
Me.Payingforlegalrepresentation.Right
“You’llhavetodoitatsomepoint,youknow,”mysistersaid,morequietlynow.“Seeklegalhelp.Takethebastarddown.”
“Withwhatmoney?”Isighed.“Andplease,don’toffermeanotherloan.I’mjustgoingtorefuseit.”
BellewasworkingasaclubpromoterforoneofBoston’smostoutrageousjoints,MadameMayhem.Shewasageniusinherfieldandbroughtinclientelethatmadetheownersfoamatthemouth,butshewasnowherenearfinanciallyestablished.Plus,IknewshewassavinguptochipinonMadameMayhem’sloomingremodelsoshecouldbecomeapartner.
“Let’ssayyou’retooproudtotakemoneyfromme—yourownsister,mindyou—andstillwantlegalrepresentation.IwouldjustgotoSailorandaskforaloan.”Hervoicegrewheated,desperate.“TheFitzpatrickshaveenoughfuck-youmoneytobuildadick-shapedstatuethesizeofLadyLiberty.Sailorwon’tbehard-pressedtogetitback,you’llhavezerointerest,andsheknowsyou’regoodforit.You’llpayiteventually.”
“Ican’t.”Ishookmyhead.
“Why?”Shetookthepizzaoutofthemicrowave,putitonapaperplate,andsaunteredovertothecouch,dumpingitonthepillowIwashugging.“Eatthewholething,Pers.You’reskinandbones.Momthinksyouhaveaneatingdisorder.”
“Idon’thaveaneatingdisorder.”Ifrowned.
Bellerolledhereyes.“Bitch,Iknow.YourassinhaledthreeCheesecakeFactorymealsjusteightmonthsagoandwasheditalldownwithmargaritas,Tums,andregret.You’regoingthroughsomething,andIwantyoutosnapoutofit.AskSailorforthemoney!”
“Areyouinsane?”Iwavedthesoggypizzaintheair.“Shedoesn’thavetimeformydrama.Shejusttoldusshewaspregnant.”
Threedaysago,onourtraditionalweeklytakeoutnight,Sailordroppedthebomb.Therewerealotofsqueaksandtears.MostofthemAsh’sandminewhileSailorandEmmabellestaredatusblankly,waitingforustogetoverourhysterics.
“And?”Bellecockedherhead.“Shecanbepreggoandgiveyoumoney,youknow.Womenareknownformultitasking.”
“She’llgetworried.Plus,Idon’twanttobethatloserfriend.”
“It’sjustafewthousanddollars.”
It’sahundredthousandofthem.
Butmysisterdidn’tknowthat.
WhichwastherealreasonIhadn’taskedSailor.
“Atleastthinkaboutit.EvenifitfeelsweirdforyoutoturntoSailorandHunter,thatsociopathCillianwouldgiveyouthemoney.Sure,he’dmakeyousweatforit—Iswear,thatassholeisasannoyingashisfaceissitable—butyou’llwalkoutoftherewiththemoney.”
Cillian.
Afterthesuiteincident,myfriendsandsisterdemandedtoknowwhathappenedbetweenus.I’dtoldthemthetruth.Mostofit,anyway.Aboutthebleedingheartandthesteroidshot,omittingthepartwhereItoldhimIwasinlovewithhimandputacurseonhim.
Whygetintothesmalldetails,right?
I’dmanagedtoforgetCillianovertime.Barely.EventhememoryofhimsavingmefadedandwaswashedawayalongwiththeWishUponaCloudperformanceIwasdeterminedtosuppressfrommymemory.
Ihadn’tspokentomyAuntieTildasincethatday.Thatday,Istoppedspottinglonelycloudsintheskyandtriedtomoveonwithmylife.
Ifellinlove.
Gotmarried.
Almostgotdivorced.
Cillian,however,remainedthesamemanwholeftthatsuite.
Ageless,timeless,andtaciturn.
HewasstillsingleandasfarasIknew,hadn’tdatedanyone,seriouslyorotherwise,inthetimesincehe’drejectedmeonSailorandHunter’sweddingday.
Eightmonthsago—ontheweekPaxtonhaddisappeared—KilltookthereinsofRoyalPipelines,hisfather’spetroleumcompany,andofficiallybecameCEO.
HowdidInotthinkofhimbefore?
Cillian“Kill”Fitzpatrickwasmybestshotatgettingthemoney.
Hehadnoloyaltiestoanyonebuthimself,wasgoodatkeepingsecrets,andseeingpeoplesquirmwashisfavoritepastime.
He’dhelpedmebefore,andhe’ddoitagain.
Onehundredthousandbuckswaspocketchangetohim.HewouldhandmethemoneyifonlytowatchmeturnintoahundreddifferentshadesofredasIslidpitifulmonthlychecksthatmeantnothingtohimdownhismailbox.I’devenagreetotakebackthecursewhereI’dtoldhimhe’dfallinlovewithme.
Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,Ifeltmymouthwatering.
Notbecauseofthepizza,butbecauseofthesolutionIcouldpracticallyfeelgrazingthetipofmyfingers.
Ihadaplan.
Anescaperoute.
TheolderFitzpatrickbrotherwasgoingtosaveme,again
Unlikemyhusband,allIneededtodowasplaymycardsright.“Sorry,sweetie,Idon’tthinkseeingMr.Fitzpatrickisinyourcardstoday.”ThemalnourishedPAmadeashowoftossingherplatinumponytail,avenomousgrinonherscarletlips.Sheworeabubblegum-pinkvinyldressthatmadeherlooklikeBDSMBarbie,enoughperfumetodrownanotter,andtheexpressionofsomeonewhowoulddiebeforelettinganotherwomanstakeaclaimonherboss.
IshowedupunannouncedattheRoyalPipelines’officesassoonasIfinishedwork,askingtomeetwithMr.Fitzpatrick.SailorhadmentionedthatHunter,whoalsoworkedforthefamily’scompany,wasaccompanyinghertoherfirstOB-GYNappointment,anddippedearly.Ididn’twantHuntertoseemeandpasstheinformationtomyfriends.
WhenIshowedup,Cillian’spersonalassistantpoutedtheentiretimeshespokewithhimonthephone.
“Hiiiiiii,Mr.Fitzpatrick.ThisisCaseyBrandt.”
Pause.
“Yourassistantforthepasttwoyears,sir.”
Pause.
“Yeah!Withthepink.”Shegiggled.“Totessorrytobotheryou,butIhaveMissPersephonePenroseherewithoutanappointment.”
Pause.
“Shesaidsheneedstotalktoyouurgently,but,like,refusedtogivemeanyfurtherinformation?”
Iwasn’tsurewhythequestionmarkwasnecessary.Thenagain,Iwasn’tcertainwhyhisPAlookedlikeshebelongedinapinkCorvette,drivingaroundwithherplasticboyfriend,Ken,andpuppy,Taffy.
“Yes,Iknowitismyjobtogettheinformationoutofher.Unfortunately,she’sbeenmostuncooperative,sir.”
Pause.
“Yes,sir.I’llletherknow.”
ShelookedupatmelikeIwasgumstuckonthebottomofhereleven-inchheels.
“Mr.Fitzpatrickcannotseemtofityouinhisschedule.”
“TellhimI’mnotleavinguntilheseesme.”Myvoiceshookaroundthewords,butIcouldn’tgetoutofherewithoutseeinghim.Withouttrying.
Shehesitated,bitingdownonherglossedlip.
Ijerkedmychintowardthephone.“Goon,givehimmyanswer.”
Shedid,thenproceededtoslamtheswitchboardphone.
“Hesaidhe’sinameetingthatwilllikelylasthours.”
“That’sokay.Ihavetime.”
Thatwastwohoursago.
ThegrandlobbyoftheRoyalPipelines’managementfloorgleamedingoldaccents.TVmonitorsfollowingthecompany’sstocksallovertheworldmarketsglowedingreenandred.
Caseywasgrowingrestless,drummingthetipsofherpointyfingernailsonherchromedesk.
“Ineedtogototheladies’room,”shehuffed,tuggingamakeupkitfromherbagunderthetable.
IlookedupfromtheoilandgasjournalIpretendedtoread.
“Oh?”Iaskedsweetly.“Areyounotfullypotty-trained?Youknow,I’mapre-Kteacher.Accidentsdon’tfazemeintheleast.Needhelpinthebiggirltoilet?”
Sheshotmeamurderousglare.
“Don’tgoanywhere,unlessit’sbacktothetrailerparkyoucamefrom.”Shestood,runninghereyesovermycheapclothes.“Orhell.”
Herred-soledhighheelsstabbedtheflooronherwaytotherestroom,leavingdents.
AssoonasCaseywasoutofview,Ijumpedtomyfeet,sprintingahead.Cillian’sofficewasthelargestandplushestonthefloor.Itwaseasytospottheonefittedforthekingofthecastle.
Icouldonlyseehisvisitor’sbackthroughtheglassdoorasIracedinhisdirection.Themanwhohidhimfrommyvisionwasbroad-shoulderedwithtawnyblondhair,asharpsuit,andanimpeccableposture.Theyseemedtobedeepinconversation,butIdidn’tcare.Ithrewthedooropenwithoutknocking,barginginbeforeIlostmynerve.
Unfortunately,mygrandentrancewasn’tenoughtotearCillian’sgazefromthemaninfrontofhim.Theywerehunchedoveramassofpapersscatteredalloverhissilverdesk.
“…stocksgoingup,butIstillnoticedatrendinnegativepress.Sayingthemediadoesn’tlikeyouwouldbeanunderstatement.It’dbelikesayingtheoceanisdamp.Thatthesunislukewarm.ThatMeganFoxismerelyshagable…”
“Igetthegistofit,”Cillianclipped.“Howdowerectifythesituation?”
“Isupposeapersonalitytransplantwouldbeoutofthequestion?”themandrawled.
“Theonlythingthat’sabouttobetransplantedismyfootinyourassifyoudon’tgivemeasolution.”
Toughcrowd.I’mabouttofaceaverytoughcrowd.
“Bloodyhell,Cillian,”theposhmanhuffed,“youstartedyourCEOjourneybysackingninepercentofthecompany’smanagementanddrillingholesintheArctic.Youhaven’texactlywonanyfans.”
“Itrimmedthefat.”
“Peopleratherlikefat.Thefastfoodindustryrolls256billiondollarsinrevenueeachyear.Didyouknowthat?Thepeopleyoufiredtalkedtojournalists,addingfueltothefireandmakingyoutrulyoneofthecountry’sworstvillains.RoyalPipelinesisalreadyconsideredthemosthatedcompanyintheUS.TherefineryexplosioninMaine,theGreenLivingclimaterallywhereaneighteen-year-oldbrokebothlegs—”
“Iwasn’ttheonewhobrokeherlegs,”Cillianinterjected,holdinghispalmup.“Unfortunately.”
“Nomatterhowyouspinit,youmustcleanupyouract.Playtheirgame.Promoteawholesome,jollyimage.Thecompany’sreputationneedstoberestored.”
Themanhadasmooth,Englishaccent.Princely,drenchedwithentitlement,anddrippingauthority.Hewasplayfullydetached.Anenigma.Icouldn’ttellifhewasagoodorbadguy.
“Fine.I’llkissafewbabies.Sponsorsomestudents.Donatefundstoopenanewhospitalwing.”Cillianleanedbackinhisseat,hiseyesdroppingbacktothepaperworkinfrontofhim.
“I’mafraidwe’requitepastthekissingbabiesstage.It’stime,Kill.”
Cillianlookedup,scowling.
“Iwillnotsacrificemypersonallifetopacifyafewself-righteous,Tesla-drivingpricks—”
“Cillian?Imean,Mr.Fitzpatrick?”Iclearedmythroat,jumpingintotheconversationbeforemoreinformationthatwasn’tmeantformyearswasgiven.
Bothmenturnedtolookatmeinsurprise.Withblueeyescharredwithgold,agranitejaw,andanelegantnose,theBritishmanwasthekindofhandsomethatshouldbeoutlawed.
Cillian…well,hestayedgorgeousinhisowngo-screw-yourselfway.
Killraisedaneyebrow.Myappearanceinhisofficedidn’tsurprisehimintheleast.
“Ididn’tmeantointerrupt—”
“Yetyoudid,”hecutintomywords.
“Sorryaboutthat.MayIhaveawordwithyou?”
“No,”heansweredflatly.
“It’simportant.”
“Nottome.”Hedroppedthedocumentstohisdesk,alreadylookingdisinterested.“WhichPenrosesisterareyou?Theolderandloudone,ortheyoungandannoyingone?”
Afteralltheseyears,hestillcouldn’ttellEmmabelleandmeapart.Wedidn’tevenlooklikeoneanother.Nottomention,he’dseenmenakedasthedayIwasborn(also:justasred).
Yetagain,Ifoundmyselftornbetweentheneedtoseduceandstabhim.
“I’mPersephone.”Iballedmyhandsintofistsbesidemybody,recallinghowbadlyithurtwhenhebrokemyheart.HowsublimelyidioticI’dfeltafterItriedtoputthatsillyspellonhim.
“Thatdoesn’tanswermyquestion.”
“Fine,”Ibitout.“I’mtheannoyingone.”
Heturnedhisfocusbacktothefilesathisdesk,skimmingthroughthem.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Tospeakwithyouinprivate,please.”
“Bargingintomyofficeunannouncedisotiose.ExpectingmenottokickyououtimpliesyougotyourdegreeatthelocalSam’sClub.Spillit.Mr.Whitehallismylawyer.”
“Lawyersarepeople,too,”Ipointedout.Myhumiliationdidn’tneedanaudience.
“Debatable.”Thegorgeousblondmansmirkedviciously.“Andactually…”Hepushedupfromhisseat,glancingbackandforthbetweenuswithamusementdancinginhismarbleeyes.“Ihavebetterthingstodothanwatchyoutwoengaginginverbalforeplay.Cheers,Kill.”
Hegatheredhisdocuments,tappedthedesktwice,anddashedout.Cillian’sofficetemperatureresembledthatofanindustrialfreezer.Everythingwasneat,minimal,organized,andsilver-chrome.Clinicalanddeliberatelyunnerving.
“MayIcomein?”Iwrungmyflowerydress.Ihadn’tevennoticedmydressofchoicewhenIlefthomethismorning,butnow,theironywasn’tlostonme.
Heswiveledinhischairtofaceme,proppingoneankleovertheotheronhisdesk.Hisfive-piecedarkgraysuitlookedlikeithadbeensewndirectlyontohisbody.EventhoughmyobsessionwithCillianFitzpatrickmorphedintoresentmentovertheyears,Icouldn’tdenyhewasthetypeofsmolderingthatmadeMicheleMorronelooklikeSteveBuscemi.
“Youhaveexactlyten,no,makeitfiveminutesbeforeIcallsecurity.”Heflippedanhourglassonhisdesk.“Givemetheelevatorpitch,FlowerGirl.Makeitgood.”
FlowerGirl.
Heremembered.
“You’regoingtocallsecurityonme?”
“Myto-dolistislong,andmypatienceisshort.Fourandahalfminutes.”Hecrackedhisknuckles.
Irushedthroughthedetailssofast,myheadspun.ItoldhimaboutPaxtontakingmetothecleaners.AboutColinByrneandTomKaminski.Aboutthemassivedebt.IeventoldhimaboutByrne’spromisehewouldpimpmeoutorkillmeifIdidn’tcomeupwiththemoney.WhenIwasdone,allCilliandidwasnod.
“Youmanagedtocramallofthisinunderthreeminutes.Maybeyou’renotcompletelyuseless.”
Abangbehindusmadeustwistourheadsinunison.Caseywasplasteredtotheglassdoor,wide-eyed.Shepusheditopen,baringherfaketeeth.
“Gosh,I’msosorry,Mr.Fitzpatrick.Shepromisedshewouldn’t…”
“MissBrandt,leave,”Cillianclipped.
“ButI—”
“Saveitforsomeonewhocares.”
“I—”
“Thatsomeoneisn’tme.”
“Sir,Ijustwantedyoutoknowthat—”
“TheonlythingIknowisyoufailedatyourjobandwillbeassessedaccordingly.You’releavinginthenextthreeseconds,eitherthroughthedoororthewindow.Friendlyadvice:choosethedoor.”
SheboltedliketheLooneyTunesRoadRunner,nearlyleavingacloudofsandinherwake.Cillianturnedbacktome,ignoringthelookofhorrorsmearedonmyface.
“YoujustthreatenedtothrowBarbieoutthewindow.”Ijerkedmythumbbehindme.
“Notthreatened,heavilyimplied,”hecorrected.“Youhavelessthantwominutes,andIhaveaboutfivehundredquestions.”
Mypalmsdampeneddespitethetemperatureintheroom.
“That’sfair.”
“One—whyme?WhynotHunter,Sailor,oranyonewhoactuallygiveshalfadamnaboutyou,pardonmyforwardness?”
Icouldn’ttellhimaboutSailor’spregnancy.Shestillhadn’tsharedthenewswithherextendedfamily.Oraboutmyneednottobetheloseroneoutofourgroupoffriends.Theoneinneedofsaving.
Isettledforhalfthetruth.
“SailorandHunterdon’tknowwhatPaxtondid,andthey’retheonlypeopleI’mclosewithwhoactuallyhavethiskindofmoney.TheyknowPaxleftmeandtookthemoneywe’dsaved,buttheydon’tknowaboutthedebt.Idon’twanttotaintmyfriendshipwithmybestfriendbyputtingherinthisposition.IfiguredyouandIsharenohistory,noties.Withus,itwillbeabusinesstransactionandnothingmore.”
“WhynotSamBrennan?”
SamwasSailor’solderbrotherand,asfarasIwasaware,agoodfriendofCillian’s.ThereigningkingofBoston’sunderground.Adashingpsychopathwithapeculiartasteforviolenceandpocketsasdeepashissoullessgrayeyes.
“MixingupwithBrennantotrytopaybackastreetloansharkislikecuttingoffyourarmbecauseyoubrokeyournail,”Isaidquietly.
“YouthinkI’mlessdangerousthanBrennan?”Aghostofasmilepassedhislips.
“No.”Itiltedmyheadup.“ButIthinkyou’dbeentertainedbywatchingmesquirmasIpayyouback,andthereforemorelikelytogivemethemoney.”
Hissmirkwascockedandcharged,likealoadedgun.
Iwasright.Hewasenjoyingthis.
“Where’sthatuselesshusbandofyoursnow?”
“Idon’tknow.Trustme,ifIdid,I’dhavechasedhimtotheendofearthandback.”Madehimpayforwhathedid.
“Howareyouplanningtopaythisloanback?”Killranthebackofhishandoverhissharpjawline.
“Slowly.”Thetruthtastedbitterinmymouth.“I’mapre-Kteacher,butImoonlightasababysitterandtutorfirstandsecondgraders.I’llworktirelesslyuntilIpayyoubackeverypenny.Youhavemyword.”
“Yourworddoesn’tmeananything.Idon’tknowyou.Whichbringsmetomyfinalquestion—whyshouldIhelpyou?”
Whatkindofquestionwasthat?Whydidnormalpeopleusuallyhelpothers?Becauseitwasthedecentthingtodo.ButCillianFitzpatrickwasn’tnormalnordecent.Hedidn’tplaybytherules.
Iopenedmymouth,searchingmybrainforagoodanswer.
“Thirtyseconds,Persephone.”Hetappedthehourglass,watchingme.
“Becauseyoucan?”
“ThenumberofthingsIcandowithmymoneyisinfinite.”Heyawned.
“Becauseit’stherightthingtodo!”Icriedout.
Hepickeduponeofthebrochuresonhisdesk,flippingthroughit.
“I’manihilist.”
“Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans.”Ifeltthetipsofmyearsreddeninginshame.
“Rightorwrongarethesamesideofthecoinforme,presenteddifferently,”hesaidimpassively.“Ihavenomoralsorprinciples.”
“That’sthesaddestthingI’veeverheard.”
“Really?”Helookedupfromthebrochure,hisfaceastonemaskofcruelty.“ThesaddestthingI’veheardrecentlyisawomanwhogotscrewedoverbyherno-showhusbandandwasabouttogettrafficked,murdered,orboth.”
“Exactly!”Iexhaled,pointingathim.“Yes!See?Ifsomethinghappenstome,itwillbeonyourconscience.”
Mylowerliptrembled.Asalways,Ikeptmytearsatbay.
Hetossedthebrochureacrosshisdesk.
“Firstofall,asImentionednottwosecondsago,Ihavenoconscience.Second,whateverhappenstoyouisonyouandthecompleteandutterbuffoonyoumarried.I’mnotanotheritemonyourpileofbaddecisions.”
“MarryingPaxtonwasn’tabaddecision.Imarriedforlove.”
Thissoundedpathetic,eventomyownears,butIwantedhimtoknow.ToknowIhadn’tbeentwiddlingmythumbs,piningforhimallthoseyears.
“Allmiddle-classgirlsdo.”Hecheckedthetimeonthehourglass.“Veryuninspiring.”
“Cillian,”Isaidsoftly.“You’remyonlyhope.”
Otherthanhim,myonlyoptionwastodisappear.Runawayfrommyfamilyandfriends,fromeverythingIknew,loved,andcherished.
FromthelifeI’dbuiltforthepasttwenty-sixyears.
Headjustedthetieclaspedunderhiswaistcoat.
“Here’sthething,Persephone.Asamatterofprinciple,Idonotgiveanythingawaywithoutgettingsomethingback.Theonlythingseparatingmyselfandthatloansharkwho’safteryouisaprivilegedupbringingandopportunity.I,too,amnotinthebusinessofhandingoutfreefavors.Sounlessyoutellmewhat,exactly,Icouldgainfortheonehundredthousanddollarsyou’reaskingmetokissgoodbye,I’mgoingtoturnyoudown.Youhavetenseconds,bytheway.”
Istoodthere,cheeksablaze,eyesburning,everymuscleinmybodytautasabowstring.Acoldshiverrandownmyback.
Iwantedtoscream.Tolashout.Tocollapseonthefloorincinders.Toclawhiseyesoutandbiteandwrestlehimand…anddothingsIneverwantedtodotoanyone,myenemiesincluded.
“Fiveseconds.”Hetappedthehourglass.Hissnake-likeeyessparkledinamusement.Hewasenjoyingthis.“Givemeyourbestoffer,Penrose.”
Didhewantmetogivehimmybody?
Mypride?
Mysoul?
Iwouldn’tdothat.NotforByrne.Notforhim.Notforanyone.
TheremainingsecondsdrippedlikelifeleavingAuntieTilda’sbody.
Hisfingerhitaredbuttononthesideofhisdesk.
“Haveanicelife,FlowerGirl.Whatever’sleftofit,anyway.”
Heswunghischairtothewindow,documentsinhand,readytoreturntohiswork.Theglassdoorbehindmeburstopen,andtwobrawnymeninsuitsstompedin,eachgrabbingmebyanarmtodragmeoutside.
Caseywaitedbytheelevatorbankwithherarmscrossedandshoulderproppedoverthewall,hercheeksflushedwithhumiliation.
“It’snoteverydaysecuritytakesoutthetrash.Guessthere’safirsttimeforeverything.”Sheflippedherhair,cacklinglikeahyena.
IspenttheentirebikeridetoNorthEndfightingbackthetears.
Mylastandonlychancejustwentupinflames.“We’repregnant.”
Huntermadetheannouncementatthedinnertable.Iwantedtowipehisshit-eatinggrinwithadisinfectant.
Ormyfist.
Orabullet.
Breathe,Kill.Breathe.
Hiswife,Sailor,rubbedherflatstomach.Generallyspeaking,shewasaboutasmaternalasachewablethong,soIwasn’tquitesureanyoftheseidiotswerecapableoftakingcareofanythingmorecomplexthanagoldfish.
“Eightweeksin.Stillearly,butwewantedtoletyouknow.”
Ikeptmyexpressionblank,crackingmyknucklesunderthetable.
Theirtimingcouldn’thavebeenworse.
Motherdartedfromherseatwithanear-piercingsqueak,throwingherarmsoverthehappycoupletosmotherthemwithkisses,hugs,andpraises.
Aislingwentonandonabouthowbeinganauntwasadreamcometrue,whichwouldhavealarmedmeaboutherlifegoalsifitwasn’tforthefactshewasabouttofinishmedschoolandstartherresidencyatBrighamandWomen’sHospitalinBoston.AthairshookHunter’shandlikethey’dsignedalucrativedeal.
Inaway,theyhad.
GeraldFitzpatrickmadeitperfectlyclearheexpectedheirsfromhissons.SpawnstocontinuetheFitzpatricklegacy.Iwasthefirstinline,theeldestFitzpatrick,andthereforewasburdenedwiththemissionnotonlytoproducesuccessorsbuttoalsoensureoneofthemwasamalewhowouldtakethereinsofRoyalPipelines,regardlessofhisloveforbusinessand/orcapabilities.
IfIhadn’thadchildren,thetitle,power,andfortunewouldallbegiventotheoffspringnextinlinetothethrone.Hunter’skid,tobeexact.
Athair—fatherinIrishGaelic—gavehisdaughter-in-lawanawkwardpatontheback.Hewasbig—inheight,width,andpersonality—withashockofsilverhair,onyxeyes,andpaleskin.
“Greatjobthere,sweetheart.Bestnewswe’vehadallyear.”
Icheckedmypulsediscreetlyunderthetable.
Itwasundercontrol.Barely
Everyone’sheadsturnedtome.EversincemyfathersteppeddownandappointedmeastheCEOofRoyalPipelineslessthanayearago,I’dbeenbumpeduptotheleaderofthepackandtooktheseatattheheadofthetableduringourweekenddinners.
“Aren’tyougoingtosayanything?”Motherplayedwithherpearlnecklace,smilingtightly.
Iraisedmytumblerofbrandy.“TomoreFitzpatricks.”
“Andtothemenwhomakethem.”Athairdownedhisliquorinonego.Imethisjabwithafrostysmirk.Iwasthirty-eight—elevenyearsHunter’ssenior—unmarried,andchildless.
Marriagewasverylowonmyto-dolist,somewhereunderamputatingoneofmylimbswithabutterknifeandbungeejumpingsansarope.Childrenweren’tanideaIwasfondof.Theywereloud,theboringkindofdirty,andneedy.Ihadbeenpostponingtheinevitable.MarryinghadalwaysbeentheplanbecauseproducingheirsandpayingmyduestotheFitzpatricklineagewasn’tsomethingI’ddreamedofwormingoutof.
Havingafamilywasapartofabiggerplan.Avision.IwantedtobuildanempirefarbiggerthantheoneI’dinherited.Adynastythatstretchedacrossmuchmorethantheoiltycoonswecurrentlywere.
However,Ihadeveryintentionofdoingitinmylatefortiesandwithstipulationsthatwouldmakemostwomenrunforthehillsandthrowthemselvesoffsaidhillsforgoodmeasure.
Whichwaswhymarriagehadbeenoffthetable.
Untilthisweek,whenmyfriendandlawyer,DevonWhitehall,urgedmetogethitchedtodousesomeoftheflamesdirectedatRoyalPipelinesandmyself.
“Well,Athair,”Isaidtonelessly,“I’mhappyHunterexceededyourexpectationsintheheir-producingdepartment.”Thewritingwasonthewall,smearedinmybrother’ssemenfromthattimehedraggedusallthroughPRhellwithhissextape.
“Youknow,Kill,sarcasmisthelowestformofwit.”Sailorshotmeapiercingglare,takingasipofhervirginBloodyMary.
“Ifyouwereaselectiveconversationalist,youwouldn’tmarryamanwhothinksfartjokesaretheheightofcomedy,”Ifiredback.
“Fartsaretheheightofcomedy.”Hunter,whowasonlyhalf-evolvedasahuman,jabbedafingerintheair.“It’sscience.”
Mostdays,Idoubtedhewasliterate.Still,hewasmybrother,soIhadabasicobligationtotoleratehim.
“Congratulationswouldhavebeensufficient.”Sailorpokedtheairwithherfork.
“Biteme.”Idownedmybrandy,slammingtheglassonthetable.
“Dear!”Mothergasped.
“Youknowthere’satermforpeoplelikeyou,Kill,”Sailorgrinned.
“Cunts?”Hunterdeadpanned,pressingtwofingerstohislipsanddroppinganinvisiblemictothefloor.Oneofthehelppouredtwofreshfingersofbrandyintomyemptytumbler.Thenthree.Thenfour.Ididnotmotionforhertostopuntilthealcoholnearlysloshedover.
“Language!”Motherthrewanotherrandomwordintheair.
“Yup.Ispeakatleasttwofluently—Englishandprofanity.”Huntercackled
Healsousedtheword“fuck”asaunitmeasurement(asfuck),engagedingrotesquecarnageoftheEnglishlanguage(“beseein’ya,”“methinks”)andupuntilmarryingSailor,hadprovidedthefamilywithenoughscandalstooutdotheKennedys.
I,however,avoidedsacrilegeofanykind,heldbabiesatpublicevents(reluctantly),andhadalwaysbeenonthestraightandnarrow.Iwastheperfectson,CEO,andFitzpatrick.
Withoneflaw—Iwasn’tafamilyman.
Thismadethemediahavemonthlyfielddays.TheydubbedmeColdCillian,highlightedthefactIenjoyedfastcarsandwasn’tamemberofanycharities,andkeptrunningthesamestorywhereIrejectedanoffertobeonthecoverofafinancialmagazine,sittingnexttootherworldbillionaires,becausenoneofthem,otherthanBezos,wasanywherenearmytaxbracket.
“Close,honey.”SailorpattedHunter’shand.“Sociopaths.Wecallpeoplelikeyourbrothersociopaths.”
“Thatmakessomuchsense.”Huntersnappedhisfingers.“Hereallybreathesnewdeathintotheroom.”
“Now,now.”JaneFitzpatrick,akaMotherDearest,triedtocalmthediscussion.“We’reallveryexcitedaboutthenewadditiontothefamily.Myveryfirstgrandchild.”Sheclaspedherhands,lookingdreamilyintothedistance.“Hopefullyoneofmany.”
Sorich,forsomeonewhohadthematernalinstinctofasquid.
“Don’tworry,Ma,Iintendtoimpregnatemywifeasmanytimesasshe’llletme.”Hunterwinkedathisgingerbride.
MybrotherwastheposterchildforTMI.Andpossiblypubiclice.
Theonlythingstoppingmefromthrowingupinmymouthatthispointwasthathewasn’tworthwastingfoodover.
“Gosh,I’msojealous,Sail!Ican’twaittobeamother.”Ashbalancedherchinonherfist,lettingoutawistfulsigh.
“You’llmakeawonderfulmom.”Sailorreachedoverthetabletosqueezeherhand.
“Toyourimaginarykidswithyourbrother-in-law.”Hunterthrewasautéedbiteofpotatointohismouth,chewing.Ashwentcrimson.Forthefirsttimesincedinnerbegan,Iwasfaintlyamused.MysisternurturedahopelessobsessionwithSamBrennan,Sailor’solderbrotherandaguywhoworkedformeonretainer.
Thefactshewasawallflowerandhewasamodern-dayDonCorleonedidn’tfazeherintheleast.
“Whataboutyou,moòrga?”Athairturnedtome.MynicknamemeantMyGoldeninIrishGaelic.IwastheproverbialmodernMidas,whoturnedeverythinghetouchedintogold.Shapedandmoldedinhishands.Although,judgingbythefactI’dgivenhimnothingbutbadpresseversinceIinheritedtheCEOposition,Iwasn’tsurethemonikerwasfittinganymore.
Itwasn’taboutmyperformance.Therewasn’tasoulinRoyalPipelineswhocouldsurpassmeinskill,knowledge,andinstincts.ButIwasasoulless,impersonalman.TheoppositeofthepatriarchpeoplewantedtoseeattheheadofacompanythatkilledrainforestsandrobbedMotherNatureofhernaturalresourcesonadailybasis.
“Whataboutme?”Icutmysalmonintoeven,minusculepieces.MyOCDwasmoreprominentwhenIwasunderpressure.Doingsomethingrituallygavemeasenseofcontrol.
“Whenwillyougivemegrandchildren?”
“Isuggestyoudirectthisquestionatmywife.”
“Youdon’thaveawife.”
“GuessIwon’tbehavingchildrenanytimesoon,either.Unlessyou’reimpartialtoill-conceivedbastards.”
“Overmydeadbody,”myfatherhissed.
Don’ttemptme,oldman.
“Whenareyouannouncingthepregnancypublicly?”AthairturnedtoHunter,losinginterestinthesubjectofmyhypotheticaloffspring.
“Notbeforetheendofthesecondtrimester,”Sailorsupplied,layingaprotectivehandoverherstomach.“MyOB-GYNwarnedmethefirsttrimesteristherockiest.Plus,it’sbadluck.”
“ButagoodheadlineforRoyalPipelines.”Fatherstrokedhischin,contemplating.“EspeciallyaftertheGreenLivingdemonstrationandtheidiotwhomanagedtobreakbothherlegs.Thepresswasalloverthatstory.”
Iwastiredofhearingaboutit.LikeRoyalPipelineshadanythingtodowiththefactadimwithaddecidedtoclimbupmygrandfather’sstatueonthebusiestsquareinBostonwithamegaphoneandfell.
Athairhelpedhimselftoathirdservingofhoney-bakedsalmon,histhreechinsvibratingashespoke.
“Ceannbeaghasbeenthemedia’sdarlingforthepastcoupleofyears.Nice,hard-working,approachable.Areformedplayboy.Maybeheshouldbethefaceofthecompanyforthenextfewmonthsuntiltheheadlinesblowover.”
Ceannbeagmeantlittleone.EventhoughHunterwasthemiddlechild,myfatherhadalwaystreatedhimastheyoungest.PerhapsbecauseAshwaswisebeyondheryears,butmorethanlikelybecauseHunterhadthematurityofaBand-Aid.
Iputmyutensilsdown,fightingthetwitchinmyjawwhileslippingmyhandsunderthetabletocrackmyknucklesagain.
“Youwanttoputmytwenty-seven-year-oldbrotherastheheadofRoyalPipelinesbecausehemanagedtoimpregnatehiswife?”Iinquired,myvoicecalmandeven.I’dbustedmyassatRoyalPipelinessincemyearlyteens,takingmyplaceatthethroneatthecostofhavingnopersonallife,nosociallife,andnomeaningfulrelationships.Meanwhile,HunterwasjumpingfromonemassorgytothenextinCaliforniauntilmydaddraggedhimbytheearbacktoBostontocleanuphisact.
“Look,Cillian,we’vebeenfacingalotofbacklashbecauseoftherefineryexplosionandexploratoryArcticdrills,”Athairgroused.
Cillian.Notmoòrga.
“Therefineryexplosionhappenedunderyourwatch,andmyArcticexplorationrigswilllikelyupourrevenuebyfivebilliondollarsby2030,”Ipointedout,thumbingtherimofmybrandyglass.“IntheeightmonthsI’vebeendoingthisjob,ourstockhasgoneupfourteenpercent.NottooshabbyforarookieCEO.”
“Notalltyrantsmakebadkings.”Henarrowedhiseyes.“Yourachievementsmeannothingifthepeoplewantyoudethroned.”
“Noonewantsmedethroned.”Igavehimapityinglook.“Theboardhasmyback.”
“Everyoneelseinthecompanywantstostabit,”heroared,crashinghisfistoverthediningtable.“Theboardonlycaresabouttheprofits,andthey’dvotehoweverIwantedthemtovoteifitcamedowntoit.Don’tgettoocomfortable.”
Utensilsclattered,platesflew,andwinesplatteredoverthetableclothlikeblooddrops.Mypulsewasstillcalm.Myfacetranquil.
Keepittogether.
“Youscareyouremployees,themedialoathesyou,andtotherestofthepublic,you’reamystery.Nofamilyofyourown.Nopartner.Nokids.Noanchor.Don’tthinkIhaven’tspokentoDevon.Ihappentobeofthesamemindsetasyourlawyer.Youneedsomeonetodiluteyourdarkness,andyouneedherfast.Sortthisout,Cillian,anddoitfast.ThepresscallsyouTheVillain.Makethemstop.”
Feelingtheticinmyjaw,Ipursedmylips.
“Areyoudonebeinghysterical,Athair?”
Myfatherpushedoffthetable,risingtohisfeetwithafingerpointedatme.
“IcalledyoumoòrgabecauseIneverhadtoworryaboutyou.YoualwaysdeliveredwhateverIneededbeforeI’devenaskedforit.ThefirstperfecteldestFitzpatrickchildingenerationssinceyourgreat-great-great-grandfathermadehiswayfromKilkennytoBostononaricketyboat.Butthathaschanged.You’repushingforty,andit’stimeyousettledown.Especiallyifyouwanttocontinuebeingthefaceofthiscompany.Incaseyourjobisnotastrongenoughincentive,letmespellitoutforyou.”Heleanedtowardme,hiseyeslevelingmine.“ThenextinlineforthethroneisHunter,andrightnow,thepersonafterhimisyourfuturenieceornephew.Everythingyou’veworkedforwillbehandeddowntothemEverything.Andifyoufuckthisup,Iwillmakesuretodethroneyou,too.”
Hestalkedoutofthedininghall,rippingaportraitofallthreeofusFitzpatricksiblingsfromthewall.
Motherdartedupfromherseat,runningaroundtoherestatemanagertonodoubtorderthemtogettheportraitreframedandredone.
Ismiledserenely,addressingeveryoneatthetable.
“Morefoodforus.”
IspenttherestoftheweekendinMonaco.
Justlikemyloveableidiotofabrother,I,too,hadatasteforunconventionalsex.
Unlikemyloveableidiotofabrother,Iknewbetterthantohaveitwithrandomwomen.
I’dmadebi-monthlytripstoEurope,spendingtimewithcarefullyselected,discreetwomenwho’dagreedtoironcladarrangements.Sleepingwithawomanrequiredmorepaperworkthanbuyingaspaceship.I’dalwaysbeencareful,anddealingwithasexscandalontopofthefarcethatwasmypublicimagewasn’tinmyplans.
Ipaidthemamouthwateringrate,tippedthemwell,wasalwaysclean,gracious,andpolite,andcontributedtotheEuropeaneconomy.Theseescortsweren’tdown-on-theirlucksinglemothersorpoorgirlswhocamefrombrokenfamilies.Theyweretop-tieruniversitystudents,aspiringactresses,andagingmodelsofmiddle-toupper-classfamilies.
Theytraveledfirstclass,livedinlavishapartments,andwerepickyabouttheirdecamillionaireclientele.
Ihadn’tusedmyfamily’sprivatejetformytripstoEuropesincebeingappointedCEO.LeavingacarbonfootprintofKuwaittogetlaidwastoowicked,evenformyconscience.
Fine.Ihadnoconscience.
Butifthemediaeverfoundout,mycareerwouldbeasgoodasdead,anddeathwasaspecialtyI’dleftforHunter’sbraincells.
WhichwaswhyIwasslummingitinfirstclassonacommercialflight,quietlyenduringthepresenceofotherhumansonmywaybacktoBostonfromMonaco.
Thereweren’tmanythingsIhatedmorethanpeople.Butbeingtrappedwithalargenumberofthemonawingedbusandrecycledairwasoneofthem.
Aftersettlingintomyseatontheplane,IleafedthroughacontractwithanewcontractorformyArcticoilingrig,pushingawayallthoughtsofHunter’sapproachingfatherhoodandthePenrosesisterwhobargedintomyofficelastweekbeggingforaloan.
ItoldherIdidn’trecognizeher,whichdrovehermadanddrovemeintoastateofaconstanthard-on.
ButIrememberedPersephone.
Wellandclear.
Onthesurface,PersephonePenrosetickedalltheboxesforme:hairlikespungold,cobaltblueeyes,rosebudlips,andapetiteframewrappedinromanticdresses.Adeclawed,defangedpreschoolteacher,easiertotamethanakitten.
Wholesome,idealistic,andangelictothebone.
Sheworehandmadefrocks,watermelonlipstick,herheartonhersleeve,andthatlamb-likeexpressionofaJaneAustencharacterwhothoughtdickwasnothingmorethananicknameformennamedRichard.
Persephonewasn’twrongwithherassumptiontocometome.Withanyotheracquaintanceofmine,I’dgivethemthemoneyjusttowatchthemsweatwhilepayingmeback.
Onlyinhercase,Ididn’twantmylifetiedwithhers.
Didn’twanttoseeher,hearfromher,andendureherpresence.
Didn’twanthertooweme.
She’dbeeninfatuatedwithmebefore.FeelingsdidnotinterestmeunlessIfoundawaytoexploitthem.
“Ouch.”Asquishytoysqueakedbehindmyseat.“Cutitout.Sweart-toGod,Tree,I-Iwill—”
“Youwillwhat?TellMommyonme.Snitch.”
Tree?ThepeoplesittingbehindmenamedtheirchildTree?Anddecidedtotravelfirstclasswithtwokidsundertheageofsix?
Theseparentswerethereasonserialkillersexisted.Ipoppedtwoibuprofen,washingthemdownwithbourbon.Technically,Iwasn’tsupposedtodrinkwiththemedicineIwastakingdailyformycondition.
Oh,well.Youonlyliveonce.
“Quitfussing,Tinder,”themothersnappedbehindme.
Tinder.
Iofficiallyfoundparentsworsethanmybrotherwouldbe.Iwasninety-onepercentsureSailorwouldn’tletHunternametheirchildPineconeorDaylightSavings.Themissingninepercentwasduetothefacttheywerenauseatinglyblindedbylove,soyoucouldneverknowforsure.
“H-ehealwaysdoesthis!”littleTinderbellowed,managingtokickthebackofmyseateventhoughitwasaboutfourfeetaway.“Treeisas-stinkyface.”
“Well,you’reuglyandweird,”Treeretorted.
“I’mnotweird.I’mspecial.”
Bothhellionswereinsufferable,andIwasabouttobreakthenewstotheirequallydiabolicalparentsbeforerememberingIcouldn’taffordanotherheadlineoftheCillian-Fitzpatrick-eats-babies-for-breakfastvariety.
CEOofRoyalPipelinesshoutsatinnocentchildrenonflightbackfromhisescorts
No,thankyou.
Andjustfortherecord,I’dneverconsumedhumanfleshinmylife.Itwastoolean,toounsanitary,andentirelytoouncommon.
Mentallytappingmyfootuntiltakeoff,Icrackedmyknuckles.
Oncewewereintheair,Istoodandwalkedaround,makingnotesonthecontractwitharedSharpie.
WhenIreturnedtomyseat,itwastaken.
Notjusttakenbuttakenbymyarchenemy.
ThemanI’dexpectedtoresurfacefromtheshadowstheminuteI’dbeenappointedCEOofRoyalPipelines.Frankly,Iwassurprisedithadtakenhimsolong.
“Arrowsmith.Whataterriblesurprise.”
Helookedup,beamingbackatme.
AndrewArrowsmithwasagood-lookingbastard,inalocalnewsanchorsortofway.Identikithaircut,bleachedwhiteteeth,eachthesizeofabrick,tallframe,andwhatIwasseventypercentsurewasachindimpletransplant.Onceuponatime,hewasinmysocialsphere.Thesedays,allwesharedwasarivalrygoingbacktoourtimeatEvon.
Webothattendedthesameschoolsuntilwedidn’t.Untilhisfamilywentbankrupt,andhefelloffthesocialladder,solowheenteredanotherdimension,fulloftrailerparksandcannedfood.
“Cillian.Thoughtitmightbeyou.”Hestood,offeringmehishand.WhenImadenomovetotakeit,hewithdrew,runningthesamehandoverhisKeithUrbanhair.
Ihadn’tseenthemaninovertwodecadesandwasperfectlycontenttospendtherestofmylifeforgettinghisprettyboyface.
“Toughcrowd.Myfamily.”Hegesturedtotherowofseatsbehindme,whereableach-hairedwomaninfullLululemonattirepracticeddeepbreathstosaveherselffromamentalbreakdown,twosnottykidsonherlap,ateachother’sthroats.“ThisisJoelle,mywife,andmytwinboys,TreeandTinder.”
Itdidn’tescapemethatAndrew,whowasthesameageasme,hadawifeandkids.Theinvisiblenoosewastighteningaroundmyneck.
Icouldlosemyjob.
Myinheritance.
Mygolden,grandvision.
Ineededtostartreproducing,andfast.
“Whopickedtheirnames?”Ijerkedmychintowardthelittlemonsters.
Joelleperkedup,wavingahandasthoughIaskedwhofoundthecureforcancer.
“Moi.Aren’ttheydarling?”
Thenamesorthechildren?Bothwereawful,butonlythenameswereherfault.IturnedbacktoAndrew,ignoringhiswife’squestion.Ineverlied.LyingwouldimplyIgaveadamnwhatpeoplethought.
“HeadingbacktoSouthie?”Iinquired.LastIchecked,helivedintheworstpartofBostonwherehisfamilybarelymadeendsmeet,thankstomine.
Clearly,hisfortuneshadchangedifhewasflyingfirstclassthesedays.
“You’dbesurprisedtohearIam.”Hegrinnedbig,hischestswellingwithpride.“Boughtahousetherelastmonth.I’mgettingbacktomyroots.TowhereIcamefrom.”
HecamefromBackBay,therichpricks’area,butIdidn’tgivehimthepleasureofshowinghimIremembered.
“JusttookajobwithGreenLiving.You’relookingattheirnewestchiefexecutiveofficer.”
GreenLivingwasanonprofitenvironmentalorganizationthatwasseenasGreenpeace’smoreviolent,moredaringsibling.Thereweren’tmanycompaniesthathatedRoyalPipelinesmorethanGreenLivingdid,andthereweren’tmanymenwholoathedmeasmuchasAndrewArrowsmith.
This,inandofitself,wasn’tnews.Icouldcountononehandthepeoplewhoknewmeanddidn’tactivelydislikeme.WhatmadeAndrewdangerouswasthatheknewmysecret.
TheonethingI’dkeptsafelylockedawaysinceboardingschool.
SinceEvon.
Nowthatwasagamechanger.
“That’scute,”Isaiddryly.“Dotheyknowyou’reaboutascompetentasanapkin?”
Thatwasn’ttrue.I’dkepttabsonhimovertheyearsandknewthatnotonlywasheasuccessfulattorneywithaflairforecologyandenvironmentalissues,butthathewasalsothemorningshowsandCNNdarling.Everytimeclimatechangepoppedintothenews,hewastherewithamicrophone,eitherleadingamassdemonstration,chaininghimselftoagoddamntree,ortalkingaboutitonprime-timeTV.
AndrewhadinterferedwithRoyalPipelines’businessmanytimesalonghiscareer.Hebulliedadvertisingcompaniesfromworkingwithus,hadagamingcompanydroptheirpartnershipwithus,andwroteabest-sellingbookaboutpetroleumlords,essentiallyblamingcompanieslikemineforgivingpeoplecancer.
Hehadfans,groupies,andFacebookgroupsdedicatedtohim,andIwouldn’tbesurprisedtoknowtherewasadildowithhisfaceonit.
“Oh,theyknowmycapabilities,Fitzpatrick.”Hepluckedafluteofchampagnefromastewardess’stray.“Let’snotpretendwehaven’tbeenkeepingtabsoneachother.Youknowmycredentials.Myvictories.Myagenda.Iletmyprinciplesguidemejustlikemyoldman.”
Hisoldmanhadbeenfiredbymyoldmanwhenwewerebothboys,thrustingtheArrowsmithfamilyintoalifeofpoverty.Beforethat,ourfamilieshadbeenclose,andAndrewandIhadbeenbestfriends.TheArrowsmithsneverforgavetheFitzpatricksforthebetrayaleventhoughAthairhadasolidreasontofireAndrewSenior—theaccountanthaddippedhishandintothecompany’shoneyjar.
“How’syouroldmandoing?”Iasked.
“Hepassedawaythreeyearsago.”
“Notterriblygoodthen.”
“Iseebeinganassholestillrunsinyourblood.”Hedownedthechampagne.
“Can’tfightmyDNA,”Isaidbluntly.“Now,peoplewhoareoutformybloodareanotherthing.Icanfightthemtoothandnail.”
“How’boutGerald?Stillhanginginthere?”Andrewignoredmythinlyveiledthreat.
“YouknowGerry.Hecansurviveanythingshortofanuclearblast.”
“Speakingofsoon-to-bedeadthings,IhearDaddygaveyouthekeystoRoyalPipelinessincehehadtostepdownbecauseof…whatwasit?”Hesnappedhisfingers,frowning.“Type2diabetes?Gluttonyalwaysraninyourfamily.Howishehandlinghishealthissues?”
“Wipinghistearswithhundred-dollarbills.”Iletlooseawolfishsmirk.Arrowsmithtriedtooffendmydelicatesensibilities,forgettingIhadnone.
Wewerestillstandingintheaislewhenthenewrealitysettledin,tricklingintomybloodstreamlikepoison.
Marryingwasnolongeranoption.
ItwasanecessitytosecuremypositionasRoyalPipelinesCEO.
AndrewArrowsmithwasheadedbacktoBostontobringmedown,takingoveracompanythatputruiningRoyalPipelinesonitsflag.
Hehadleverage,anappetiteforrevenge,andwasprivytomydarkestsecret.
Iwasn’tlosingthecompany,andIdefinitelywasn’tlosingmywealthtoHunterandAisling’sfuturekids.
“Areyougoingtoskiptothegoodpart,Andrew?”Imadeashowofyawning.
“Nopartofmebelieveswebumpedintoeachotheraccidentally.”
“Alwayssuchastraightshooter.”Andrewleanedforward,droppinghisvoicelowashewentinforthekill.“Imayormaynothavetakenthejobtosettleanoldscore.TheminuteIheardyouwereonthethrone,thetemptationtobeheadthekingbecametoomuch.”Hisbreathfannedthesideofmyface.“Killingyouandyourfatherfinanciallywouldbeeasy.WithGeraldweakandoutoftheloop,andyouvulnerableafteryearsofbadpress,Iamgoingforyourthroat,Fitzpatrick.Themediadarlingversusthepressvillain.Letthebestmanwin.”
Saunteringbacktomyseatandmakingmyselfcomfortablethere,IflippedapageofthecontractIwasworkingon.
“Youalwayswereasillyboy,”Imused,flippinganotherpageofthecontractIwasholdingnonchalantly.“Iwillstripyouofallthethingsyou’vemanagedtoachievesinceI’velastseenyou.Takewhateverisnearanddeartoyou,andwatchyoupay.Oh,andAndrew?”Ilookedup,flashinghimasmirk.“Letmeassureyou,Iamstillthesameresilientbastardyouleftbehind.”
Hewentbacktohisfamily.Ifelthisgazeonthebackofmyheadtheentireflight.
Ineededabride,andquick.
Someonemedia-friendlytobalanceoutwhoIwas.
WhatIrepresented.
Iknewjusttheperson.Daysdraggedlikeanailoverablackboard.
Iwasonedge.Jumpy,cranky,andincapableoftakingdeep,satisfyingbreaths.
EversinceIreturnedfromCillian’sofficeempty-handed,Icouldn’tstomachanything—beitfood,coffee,water,orthesightofmyselfinthemirror.
MymindconstantlydriftedtoamentalvideoofByrneandKaminskithrowingmylifelessbodyintotheCharlesRiver.AboutCillian’srejection.Theunbearablestingofit.
I’dforgottenthewordstoallthesongsduringcircletimeinclass,almostfedReid,whowaslactoseintolerant,Dahlia’smacandcheese,andmixedkineticsandwiththerealone,makingahugemessIhadtostaylatetocleanupafterward.
GraycloudsswollenwithrainhoveredovermeasIheadedhome,joggingfrommybiketomyentryway,clutchingmyshoulderbaginavisegrip.IremindedmyselfIhadbothpeppersprayandaTaser,andthattherewaszeropercentchanceByrneandKaminskiwouldkillmeatmydoorstep.
Well,maybeatenpercentchance.
Itwasprobablysomewherearoundtwenty-fivebutdefinitelynomorethanthat.
TheminuteIgotintomybuilding,Ireachedfortheswitch.Tomysurprise,thelightwasalreadyon.Astronghandgrippedmywrist,spinningmearoundtofacethepersonitbelongedto.
Fightorflight?mybodyaskedme.
Fight,mybrainanswered.Alwaysfight.
Ithrewmybagintheintruder’sface,agrowlrippingoutofmymouth.Hedodgediteffortlessly,dumpingittothefloorandcausingthecontentsofmybagtorollout.Ireacheduptoclawhiseyes.Hesnatchedbothmywristsinonepalm,lockingtheminplacebetweenusbeforebackingmeagainsttheentrancedoorsowewereflushagainsteachother.
“Letmego!”Iscreamed.
Tomyshock,thedark,mammothfiguredidjustthat,steppingbackandpickingupthepepperspraythatfellfrommybagtoexamineitflippantly.
“Cillian?”
Iresistedtheurgetorubmyeyesindisbelief.Buttherehewas,wearingadesignertrenchcoat,pointyItalianloafers,andhissignaturego-fuck-yourselfscowlthatmademyheartlooparoundlikeastripperonapole.
“You’rehere,”Isaid,moretomyselfthantohim.
Why?How?When?Somanyquestionsfloatedinmyfoggybrain.
“Isincerelyhopeourchildrenwon’tinherityourtendencytopointouttheobvious.Ifinditextremelytrivial.”Hepoppedthesafetyoffthepeppersprayandscreweditbackright,sothenexttimeItriedtouseit,itwouldbereadytogo.
“Hmm,what?”Iswattedawaywispsofhairthatfloppedovermyeyeslikestubbornbranchesinajungle.Thefiveo’clockshadowveilingthethickcolumnofhisthroatmademewanttopressmylipstohisneck.
Hisimperfectionsmadehimintimatelybeautiful.Idespisedeverysecondofbeingaroundhim.
“RememberItoldyouIdon’thandoutfreefavors?”Herolledthepepperspraybetweenhisfingers,hiseyesonthesmallcanister.
“Kindofhardtoforget.”
“Well,it’syourluckyday.”
“Allowmetobeskeptical.”
Atthispoint,Iwasn’tdownonmyluck.Iwassixfeetunderit.Somewherebetweenhaplessandcursed.
“IfiguredoutwhatIwantfromyou.”
“Youwantsomethingfromlittleoleme?”IputmyhandtomychestwithamockinggaspwhileItriedtoregulatemyracingheartbeat.Icouldn’thelpit.Henevermissedachancetobelittleme.“I’mspeechless.”
“Don’tgetmyhopesup,FlowerGirl,”hemuttered.
Mynicknamedidn’tescapeme.TheFlowerGirlwastraditionallythetoddleratthewedding,designedtodrawcoosandpositiveattention.Thena?vekidwhosejobwastowalkastraightline.
Hesteppedtowardme,invadingmypersonalspace.Hisscentofmale,drycedar,andleatherseepedintomysystem,makingmedrunk.
“Forthistowork,youmustn’tdevelopanyfeelingsforme,”hewarneddarkly.
TherewasnopointintellinghimI’dnevergottenoverhiminthefirstplace.Notreally.Notinallthewaysthatmattered.
Heremovedalockofdamphairfrommytemplewithouttouchingmyskin.Thewayhestaredatmeunnervedme.Withcoldcontempt,suggestinghewasbroughthereatgunpointandnotofhisownfreewill.
“Iwilltakecareofyourmoneyanddivorceproblems.Makethemgoaway.Notasaloan,butagift.”
Mybodysaggedwithrelief.
“Oh,God.Cillian,thankyouso—”
“Letmefinish,”hehissed,hisvoicecrackingthroughtheairlikeawhip.“Ineverletagoodcrisisgotowaste,andyoursmightbeverybeneficialforme.Youwon’thavetopaymebecauseyourformofcompensationwillbeontheunconventionalside.Youaregoingtobemywife.Youwillmarryme,PersephonePenrose.Smileforthecamerasforme.Attendcharityeventsonmybehalf.Andgivemechildren.AsmanyasneededuntilIhaveason.Beitone,three,orsix.”
“Anything!”Icriedout,rushingtoaccepthisofferbeforehiswordssankin.“Iwouldloveto—”
Wait,what?
Foralongmoment,Isimplystaredathim.Iwastryingtodecidewhetherhewasmakingsomeelaboratejokeonmybehalf.
Somehow,Ididn’tthinkhewas.Foronething,CillianFitzpatrickdidnotpossessasenseofhumor.Ifhumormethiminadarkalley,itwouldshrivelintoitselfandexplodeintoacloudofsqueakingbats.Foranother,morethanhewascruel,Killwasterrifyinglypragmatic.Hewouldn’twastehisprecioustimeonprankingme.
“Youwantmetomarryyou?”Irepeateddumbly.
Hisfacewasresignedandsolemn.Heofferedmeacurtnod.
Holyhell,hewasn’tkidding.Themanofmydreamswantedtowedme.Totakemeasawife.
Therewasonlyonepossibleanswerforthat.
“No.”Ipushedhimaway.“Notinamillionyears.No,nope,nien,niet.”Iwasrummagingthroughmymemoryforotherlanguagestorefusehimin.“No,”Isaidagain.“ThelastonewasinSpanish,notEnglish.”
“Elaborate,”hedemanded.
“Wecan’tmarry.Wedon’tloveeachother.”Itiltedmychinupdefiantly.“Andyes,Iknowloveissoveryworkingclass.”
“Middleclass,”hecorrected.“Thehappy,dumbmediumiscomfortableenoughnottocare,andstupidenoughnottoaimhigher.Workingandupperclassesalwaystakefinancialmattersintoconsideration.MayIremindyouthelasttimeyoumarriedforlove,”hesaidthewordasyouwouldsayherpes,“itendedwithamassivedebt,arunawayhusband,anddeaththreats?Loveisoverrated,nottomentionfickle.Itcomesandgoes.Youcan’tbuildafoundationonit.Mutualinterestsandallianceareadifferentstory.”
Butherewasthereallypatheticpart—Ididn’twanttomarryhimpreciselybecauseapartofmedidlovehim.
PuttingmyhappinessinhishandswasthedumbestideaI’deverhave.
NomatterhowmuchItriedtoignoreit,Killwasmyfirstrealcrush.Myfirstobsession.Myunfulfilledwish.Hewouldalwaysholdapieceofmyheart,andIdidn’twanttothinkofallthewayshewasgoingtoabuseitifweweretogether.
Plus,marryingBoston’smostnotoriousvillainwasabadidea,andIwasprettysureI’dfilledmyquotaofassholehusbandsforthiscentury.
“Look,howaboutacompromise?”Ismiledbrightly.“Icandateyou.Beyourgirlfriend.Hangonyourarmandtakeagoodpicture.We’llhavealittlearrangement.”
Hestaredatmewithopenamusement.
“Youthinkyourcompanyisworthahundredthousanddollars?”
“You’reofferingmeahundredgrandtobecomeyourlive-inescortandbearyourchildren.Plural.IfIwereasurrogate,I’dgetthatsameamountofmoneyforonebaby,”Iburstout.
“Gobeasurrogate.”Heshrugged.
“It’salongprocedure.Idon’thaveenoughtime.”
“Youdon’tseemtohaveenoughbrain,either.”Hetappedmytemple,frowningasifwonderinghowmuchwasinsidethatheadofmine.“Takemyoffer.It’syouronlywayout.”
Ipushedhimaway.
“You’reabastard.”
Hesmiledimpatiently.“Youknewthatwhenyouofferedyourselftomeverywillinglyallthoseyearsago.”
Heremembered.
Heremembered,andforsomereason,thatcompletelydefusedme.
AuntieTilda,whatthehellhaveyoudone?
“Look.”Ishookmyhead,tryingtothinkstraight.“HowaboutwestartdatingandI—”
“No,”hecutmeoffdryly.“Marriageornothing.”
“Youdon’tevenlikeme!”
Cillianglancedatthatchunkywatchofhis,losingpatience.
“Whatdoeslikingyouhavetodowithmarryingyou?”
“Everything!Ithaseverythingtodowithit!Howdoyouexpectustogetalong?”
“Idon’t,”hesaidflatly.“You’llhaveyourhouse.I’llhavemine.Youwillbestunninglyrich,liveonBillionaires’Row,andbecomeoneofNewEngland’smostenviedsocialites.You’llbefarenoughawayfrommetodowhateverthehellyou’dlike.Iamsensible,fair,andrealistic.Aslongasyougivemeheirs,givemeexclusivitythroughoutourchild-producingyears,andstayoutoftabloids,youshouldn’tseemuchofmebeyondthefirstfewyearsofourmarriage.Butnodivorce,”hewarned,raisingafinger.“It’stacky,badforbusiness,andshowsyou’reaquitter.I’mnoquitter.”
Iwantedtoburst.Withlaughterortears,Iwasn’tsure.
ThisisnotwhatIaskedfor,Auntie,Iinwardlyscreamed.Youmissedthebestpartofmyhavinghim.
“YourealizeI’mapersonandnotanairfryer,right?”Iparkedahandovermyhip,losingpatiencemyself.“Becausetomeitsoundsalotlikeyou’retryingtobuyme.”
“That’sbecauseIam.”HelookedatmeasthoughIwascrazy.LikeIwastheonewiththeproblem.“Peoplewhovilifymoneyhaveonethingincommon—theydon’thaveit.Youhaveachancetochangeyourfate,Persephone.Don’tmessitup.”
“SorryifIsoundungrateful,butyourpropositionsoundslikeaverysadexistencetome.Iwanttobeloved.Tobecherished.TogrowoldwiththemanIchooseandwhochoosesme.”
EvenafterwhathappenedwithPaxton,andeventhoughIstillhadstrongfeelingstowardCillian,Ibelievedinfairytales.IsimplyacceptedminewaswritteneccentricallywithtoomuchforewordandscenesIwashappytocut.
Heproducedapairofleatherglovesfromhisbreastpocket,slappingthemoverhismuscularthighbeforeslidinghisbighandsintothem.
“Youcanhaveallthosethingsintime,justnotwithme.Findyourselfalover.Leadaquietlifewithhim—providedhesignsallthenecessarypaperwork.You’lldoyou;I’lldome.WhatIdo,incaseyouhaveanylingeringromanticideasaboutus,includesaninsatiableamountofhigh-endescortsandquestionablesexualpractices.”
Theonlythingkeepingmestandinguprightatthispointwasthethoughtthiswasprobablyahallucination,duetothefactIhadn’tbeensleepingoreatingwellrecently.
Carbs.Ineedcarbs.
“Youwantmetocheatonyou?”Irubbedatmyforehead.
“Afteryougivemelegitimatechildren,youcandowhateveryouwant.”
“Youneedahug.”Ifrowned.“Andashrink.Notinthatorder.”
“WhatIneedissiringheirs.Atleastonemale.Acoupleofothersforappearanceandbackup.”
Backup.
Werewetalkingaboutchildrenorphonechargers?
Myheadspun.Ireachedtothewallforsupport.
IalwaysknewCillianFitzpatrickwasmessedup,butthiswasalevelofcrazythatcouldeasilysecurehimaplaceinamentalinstitution.
“Whymale?Incaseyouhaven’tnoticed,thisisthetwenty-firstcentury.TherearewomenlikeIreneRosenfeld,MaryBarra,CorieBarry…”IbeganlistingfemaleCEOs.Hecutmeoff.
“Sparemethesupermarketlist.Thetruthofthematteris,somethingshaven’tchanged.Womenbornintoobsceneprivilege—akamyfuturedaughters—rarelyoptforhecticcareers,whichiswhatrunningRoyalPipelinesdemands.”
“ThatisthemostsexistthingI’veeverheard.”
“Shockingly,Iagreewithyouonthatpoint.”Hebegantobuttonhiscoat,signalinghisdeparture.“Nonetheless,I’mnottheonemakingtherules.Traditionally,thefirstborn’ssoninheritsmostofthesharesandtheroleofCEOinRoyalPipelines.That’showmyfathergotthegig.That’showIgotit.”
“Whatifthekidwantstobesomethingelse?”
HestaredatmeasthoughIjustaskedhimifIshouldpiercemyeyebrowusingasemi-automaticweapon.LikeIwastrulybeyondhelp.
“Whodoesn’twanttobetheheadofoneoftherichestcompaniesintheworld?”
“Anyonewhoknowswhatarolelikethatentails,”Ishotback.“Nooffense,butyou’renotthehappiestmanIknow,Kill.”
“Myfirstsonwillcontinuemylegacy,”hesaidmatter-of-factly.“Ifyou’reworriedabouthismentalhealth,Isuggestyousendhimtotherapyfrominfancy.”
“Soundslikeyou’regoingtobeawonderfulfather.”Icrossedmyarmsovermychest.
“They’llhaveasoftmother.LeastIcandoisgivethemthehardfactsoflife.”
“You’reawful.”
“You’restalling,”hequipped.
Thenervousknotofhysteriaforminginmythroatgrew.NotbecauseIfoundtheideaofmarryingCilliansoterrible,butbecauseIdidn’t,andthatmademederanged.WhatkindofwomanjumpedheadfirstintomarriagewiththewickedestmaninBostonwhilestillmarriedtothemostunreliableone?
Me.
Thatwaswho.
Ientertainedthisinsaneideaformanyreasons,allofthemwrong:
Nomoremoneyproblems.
AsuredivorcefromPaxton.
HavingCillian’scompany,andundividedattention,evenifjustforafewshortyears.
Whoknew?MaybeAuntieTildawasgoingtodeliverafterall.Wecouldstartoffasanarrangementandendupasarealcouple.
No.Icouldn’tboardhistraintoCrazyTown.ThelaststopwasHeartbreak,andI’dhadenoughofthatinmylife.Paxtonhadalreadycrushedme.ButmyinfatuationwithPaxwassweetandcomfortable.Cillianalwaysstirredinmesomethingrawandwildthatcouldenraptureme.
Ineededtothinkaboutitclearlywithouthimgettinginmyfacewithhisdruggingscentandsquarejawandcoldflawlessness.
Isteppedsideways,towardthestairway.“Look,canIthinkaboutit?”
“Ofcourse.Youhaveplentyoftime.It’snotlikethemobisafteryou,”hisrich-boydictionmockedme.
Iknewexactlyhowbadmysituationwas.Still,ifIwasgoingtoofficiallysigntherestofmylifeovertothemanwhocrushedme,Ineededtoatleastgivemyselfafewdaystoprocessit.
“Givemeaweek.”
“Twenty-fourhours,”hefiredback.
“Fourdays.You’retalkingabouttherestofmylifehere.”
“You’renotgoingtohavealifeifyoudon’taccept.Forty-eighthours.That’smyfinaloffer,andit’sagenerousone.Youknowwheretofindme.”
Heturnedaround,makinghiswaytothedoor.
“Wait,”Iyelped.
Hepaused,notturningaround.
AflashbackofmyselfwatchinghimleaveandaskinghimtostayatSailorandHunter’sweddingslammedintome.Iknew,withcertaintythatscorchedmysoul,thatitwasgoingtobeournormifIacceptedhisoffer.
Iwouldalwaysseekhimout,andhewouldalwaysretreattotheshadows.Adusky,headysmokeofamanIcouldfeelandseebutnevercatch.
“Givemeyourhomeaddress.Idon’twanttogotoyourofficeagain.Itmakesmefeellikewe’reconductingbusiness.”
“Weareconductingbusiness.”
“YourPAishorrible.ShealmoststabbedmethatdayIvisitedyou.”
“Almostistheoperativewordhere.”Producingabusinesscard,heflippeditoverandscribbleddownhisaddress.“Iwouldn’thavecoveredherlegalfees,andsheknowsit.”
Hehandedthecardtome.
“Forty-eighthours,”heremindedme.“IfIdon’thearfromyou,I’llassumeyoudeclinedmyofferorwereoffedprematurely,andmoveontothenextcandidateonmylist.”
“There’salist.”Myjawdropped.
Ofcoursetherewasalist.IwasjustoneofmanywomenwhotickedalltheboxesforthemightyCillianFitzpatrick.
Iwonderedwhatsaidboxesincluded.
Na?ve?
Desperate?
Stupid?
Pretty?
Iswallowed,buttheballinmythroatdidn’tbudge.Ifeltaboutasdisposableasadiaperandjustasdesirable.
Cillianshotmeanicylook.
“Gobrowsethroughyourmail-orderbridescatalog,Cillian.”Inarrowedmyeyesathim.“I’llletyouknowmyanswer.”
Iwatchedhimgo,carryingmyfreedom,hopes,andchoicesinhisdesignerpocket.
Knowingitdidn’tmatterwhetherIrefusedoracceptedhisoffer—eitherchoicewouldbeamistake.
Thenextday,Ishowedupatworkinacoffee-staineddressandwithbloodshoteyes.I’dcalledSailor,swallowingmyprideanddoingwhatIpromisednottodo—askherforaloan.ButbeforeIcouldevenutterouttherequest,shetoldmeshe’dbeenfeelingsuspiciouscrampsinherabdomen,andIcouldn’tbringmyselftoask.
IspentmylunchbreakcallingeverycashloanerinBoston.Mosthunguponme,somelaughed,andahandfulexpressedtheirregret,butsaidthey’dhavetopassonmybusiness.
IeventriedcallingSamBrennan.Iwasmetwithanelectronicmessageaskingforacodetogetthroughtohim.
Ididn’thaveaccesstothemostmysteriousmaninBoston.
ThoughIgrewupashisyoungersister’sbestfriend,Iwasasinvisibletohimastherestofmyfriends.
BellewasatworkwhenIgothome.Iwasgladshewasbecauseaboxwaitedoutsideherapartmentdoor.Theparcelwasaddressedtome,soIopenedit.Thereweretwopiecesoflingerieinside.
Ipickedupablacklacethong,realizinginsidethelingeriewaitedabullet
Byrne.
Irantothebathroom,throwinguptheverylittleI’deaten.
Shovingasleeveofcrackersintomymouth,Iswallowedasmallchunkofcheese,andwashedthemdownwithorangejuice.
IcrawledintoBelle’sbed,stillinmyworkdress.Itwascoldandempty.TherainknockingonthewindowremindedmeofhowaloneIwas.
MomandDadhadmovedtothesuburbsacoupleofyearsago.Movinginwiththemnowwouldinvitetroubletotheirdoorstep—deadlytrouble—andIcouldn’tdoittothem.
Sailorwasmarriedandhavingababy,runningasuccessfulfoodblogandtrainingyoungarchersasapartofacharityfoundationshestarted.Herlifewasfull,complete,andgood
AshwasbusycomingupwithschemestowinSamBrennanover,goingtomedschool,andblossomingintooneofthemostfantasticwomenI’devermet.
AndBellewasmakingacareerforherself.
Lyingstillinthedarkness,IwatchedthroughthewindowasLadyNightwentthroughallheroutfits.Theskyturnedfrommidnighttoneonblue,thenfinally,orangeandpink.WhenthesunclimbedupBoston’shigh-riseskyline,inchbyinchlikeaqueenrisingfromherthrone,IknewIhadtomakeadecision.
Theskywascloudless.
AuntieTildawasn’tgoingtohelpmegetoutofthisone.Itwasmydecisiontomake.Myresponsibility.
Silencebuzzedthroughtheapartment.Bellehadn’treturnedhomelastnight.Shewasprobablyinsideahandsomeman’sbed,splayinghercurveslikeaworkofartforhimtoworship.
Scurryingoutofbed,Ipaddedbarefootintothekitchenette,thenflickedonthecoffeemachineandBelle’svintageradio.Thesameeightiesstationthatneverfailedtoliftmyspiritsbeltedoutthelastfewnotesof“HowWillIKnow”byWhitneyHouston,followedbyaweatherforecast,warningaboutanimpendingstorm.
Therewasavasefulloffreshrosesonthecounter,courtesyofoneofthemanyadmirerswhofrequentedMadameMayheminhopestocapturemysister’sinterest.
FlowerGirl.
Ipluckedoneofthewhiteroses.Itsthornpiercedmythumb.Aheart-shapedblooddropletperchedbetweenthepetals.
“TomarryornottomarryBoston’sfavoritevillain?”
Ipluckedthefirstpetal.
Marryhim.
Thesecondone.
Don’tmarryhim.
Thenthethird.
Thefourth.
Thefifth…
BythetimeIreachedthelastpetal,myfingersquivered,myheartdrummedfast,andeveryinchofmybodywascoveredingoosebumps.Ipulledthelastpetal,thesnowycolorofaweddinggown.
Fatesaidthelastword.
Notthatitmatteredasmyheartalreadyknewtheanswer.
Adecisionhadbeenmade.
NowIhadtofacetheconsequences.“Goodsession,Mr.Fitzpatrick.You’reoneofthemosttalentedequestriansI’veeverseen.Madskills,sir.”Oneofthepimplystableboysundermypayrollstaggeredbehindme,histonguelappingaboutlikeaneagerpuppy.
Imademywayfromthebarnbacktomycar,shovingmybridleintohischestalongwithafattip.
Ifnothingelse,beingfilthy,immortally,disgustinglyrichmeantpeoplewereeagertotellmehowIwasthebestatanything,beithorseriding,fencing,golfing,andsynchronizedswimming.
NotthatIsynchronizeswam,butIwassureI’dbegivenamedalforitifIaskedforone.
“Thanksforthetip,Mr.Fitzpatrick!You’rethebestbossI’veever—”
“IfIwantedmyasskissed,I’dgoforsomeonecurvier,blonder,andwithanentirelydifferentreproductivesystem,”Isaidcuttingly.
“Right.Yes.Sorry.”Heblushed,openingthedoortomyAstonMartinVanquishforme,bowing.Islidintothecar,revvinguptheengine.
TheRingapponmyphoneadvisedmetherewasavisitoratmyfrontdoor.
Tuggingatmygloves,Itossedthemonthepassengerseatbeforeswipingthephonescreen.
Ididn’thavetocheckmywristtoknowIwasn’tatmyusualfiftybeatsperminute.Iwasahighlyconditionedequestrian,abornathlete.Butrightnow,itwasatleastatsixty-two.
Iwasacertifiedmorontodevelopapreferencetowardonepotentialbrideovertheother,consideringnoneofthecandidatesonmylistweregoingtowalkdowntheaislehappilyorwillingly.
TheyallhadreasonstosayIdo,andnoneofthemhadtodowithmywinningpersonality,wit,orflawlessmanners.
PersephonePenrosewasthefirstI’dapproached.SheneededfinancialrelieflikeIneededagoodPRstuntandacoupleofkids.
Shewas,howevermuchIhatedtoadmitit,alsomyfavoredcontender.Good-natured,ofsoundmindmoreorless,withthefaceofanangelandabodythatcouldtemptthedevil.
Shewasperfect.Tooperfect,infact.SoperfectIsometimeshadtolookawaywheneverwewereinthesameroom.IavertedmygazefromhermoretimesthanIcouldcount,alwaysoptingtoobservehermouthysister.WatchingthetrainwreckthatwasEmmabelleremindedmeIdidn’twantthePenroseDNApoolanywherenearmine.
Emmabellewasloud,lewd,andopinionated.Shecouldarguewithagoddamnwallfordaysandstilllose.FocusingonherwaslessdangerousthanwatchingPersephone.
AndwatchingPersephonewassomethingIdiddiscreetly,butoften,whennoonewaslooking.
Whichwaswhythefactshehadn’treturnedtomewithananswerwasagoodthing.Terrific,really.
Ididn’tneedthismess.
Didn’tneedmyheartratehikingoversixty.
Caseinpoint—asthevideoofmyblack,brasshardwaredoubledoorscameintoview,mypulsebeganstrummingovermyeyelid.Itwasthecleaningladiesandmychef,marchingintomyhousetoprepareitaheadofthekickbackIwashostingtonight.
Ithrewthephonetothepassengerseat,glancingatmyRolex.
Ithadbeenexactlyforty-ninehoursandelevenminutessinceI’dpresentedPersephonewithmyoffer.Hertimewasup.TimekeepingandreliabilityweretwoofthefewthingsI’dadmiredaboutpeople.
Shelackedboth.
Clickingopenmyglovecompartment,IproducedthestickynoteDevonhadgivenmewithnamesofpotentialbrides.NextonmylistwasMinkaGomes.Anex-modelwhowasnowachildpsychologist.Legsformiles,agoodfamily,andaperfectsmile(althoughDevonhadwarnedmeshehadveneers).
Shewasthirty-seven,desperateforchildren,andtraditionalenoughtowantaCatholicwedding.She’dalreadysignedanNDApriortomyapproachingher,somethingI’dmadeDevondowithallofmypotentialbrides,saveforPersephone,whowas:
Myfirstcandidate,andthereforemysloppiestattempt.And—

Toogoodtotellasoul.

Ipunchedheraddressintothenavigationapp,rollingoutofmyprivateranch’sdriveway,whereIhadspentthepastfewhoursridingmyhorses,ignoringmyresponsibilities,andnotseethingoverthefactPersephonePenroseneededtothinkaboutmarryingmewhentheotheroptionavailablewasgrislydeathinthehandsofstreetmobsters.
Ideliberatelywasn’thomebecauseIknewPersephonewasn’tgoingtotakethebait.
Shehadtoomuchintegrity,morals,nottomention—anotherflippinghusbandsomewhereintheglobe.
“Let’shopeforyoursakeyou’renotdumbenoughtoturndownmyoffer,too,”ImutteredtoaninvisibleMinkaasItookthehighwaytowardBoston.
Bridenumbertwoitwas.
Asifitmadeanydifference.
SamBrennanthrewhiscardsontothetablelaterthatevening,tiltinghisheadback,aribbonofsmokecurlingpasthislips.
Healwaysfolded.
Hedidn’tcomeheretoplaycards.
Didn’tbelieveinluck,didn’tplayforit,anddidn’tcountonit.
Hewasheretoobserve,learn,andkeeptabsonHunterandme,twoofhismostprofitableclients.Madesurewekeptoutoftrouble.
“Sally”byGogolBordellorosefromthesurroundsystem.
Wewereinmydrawingroomforourweeklypokernight.Atasteful,albeitboringspace,withupholsteredleatherinclinersandheavyburgundycurtains.
“Don’tworry,sons.It’llallbeoversoon,”Huntertsked,attemptinghisbestJohnMalkovichimpressioninRounders.“Pokerisnotforthefaintofheart.”
“This,fromsomeonewhoisaNordstrommembershipawayfrombeingachick.”Samslidhiscigarettefromonecornerofhislipstotheother,hisforearmsnearlyrippingtheblackdressshirthewore.
“YoubetyourassIhaveaNordstrommembership.”Hunterlaughed,unfazed.“Idon’thavetimetoshopwithmystylist,andtheladiesatthestoreknowmymeasurements.”
“Iseeyourthirty-fivekandraiseeightthousand.”Devontossedeightblackchipstothecenterofthetable,drumminghisfingersoverhiscards.
DevonwastheoppositeofSam.Ahedonistlordwithatasteforfine,forbiddenthings,openmanners,andzeroscruples.Watchingmoneyburnwashisfavoritepastime.Ironically,DevonWhitehallneededajoblikeHunterneededmoredistastefulsexualinnuendosinhisrepertoire.HechosetogotouniversityinAmerica,passedthebar,andstayedfarawayfromBritain.
Iwasprettysurehehadhisowncanofwormswaitingtobecrackedopenbackinhishomelandbutdidn’tcareenoughtoask.
“Allin,”Iannounced.
Huntersmackedhislip,pushinghisentirestackofchipsforward.
“You’retakingthepiss.”Devonnarrowedhiseyesatmybrother.Hunterflashedaninnocentsmile,battinghislashestheatrically.
“It’sazero-sumgame,MonsieurWhitehall.Don’tstepintothekitchenifyoudon’tliketheburn.”
“You’remixingtwophrases,”IsaidaroundtheCubancigarinmymouth,pushingmychipstothecenterofthetable.“It’sdon’tstepintothekitchenifyoucan’ttaketheheat.BurniswhatyougetbetweenyourlegsforsleepingwithenoughwomentofillupMadisonSquareGarden.”
“Funny,Idon’trememberyouinvitingmetoyoursainthoodceremony,bigbro.”HuntertookapullofhisGuinness,dragginghistongueoverhisfoammustache.“Oh,that’sright,itneverhappenedbecauseyoubonkedhalfofEurope.’Sides,thiswasallinthepast.I’mamarriedmannow.There’sonlyonewomanforme.”
“Andthatwomanismysister,soyoubetterthinkcarefullyaboutwhatyousaynextifyouwanttogetoutofherewithallyourorgansintact,”Samremindedhim.
Samhadbrownhair,grayeyes,andtanskin.Hewastall,broad,andhadthatragged,hunkylookthatmadewomenlosetheirpantsandsenses.
“Dude,mywifeisknockedup.Toolateforyoutosecond-guesswhatwe’redoinginoursparetime.Bytheway,theabdomenpainshehadthisweekturnedouttobegas,thanksforasking,”Huntertutted.
WasIseriouslylisteningtoafartreportfromSailornow?
“Noteverysingleconversationmustcirclebacktothefactyourwifeispregnant,”Iremindedhim.
“Proveit.”
SamjerkedhisthumbtowardHunter.
“YourealizeIwillkillyourbrotheratsomepoint,right?”heaskedme.
“Won’tholditagainstyou.”Ispatthecigarouttoanashtray.“Butwaituntilafterherevealshiscards.”
“Speakingofmaritalbliss,”DevonswirledhisJohnnieWalkerBlueLabelinitstubmler,“Ibelieveourhosthassomemarvelousnewstoshare.”
“Aww,youfinallyopenedanaccountonOkCupid?”Hunterclaspedhishandstogether,cooing.“OurparentshavebeenridinghisassforbeinglonelierthanasatanistinaYouthforJesusconventionforawhilenow.”
“It’llbeacolddayinhellwhenCillianFitzpatricksaysIdo,”Samdrawled.
“Betterbringawarmcoat,mate.”Devonsmirked.
“Hell’snotreadyformeyet.AndCillianlikesvarietytoomuchtosettleforonepussy.”SamspearedDevonwithadeadlyglare.
“Womenarelikepancakes.Theyalltastethesame,”Iagreed.
Samflashedhisteeth.“Ifuckinglovepancakes.”
Themanhadbeddedeveryoneintown.
Everyoneotherthanmysister.
Itdidn’ttakeanastrophysicisttofigureoutAislingwasstupidlyinlovewithBrennan.Whenevershewasintheroomwithhersister-in-law’sbrother,sheallbutdrooledonhislap.TheminuteI’drealizedherlapseinjudgment,I’dhiredBrennanonretainer.Ididn’thavetoomuchworkforhimbackwhenwestartedourprofessionalrelationship,buthavinghimonmypayrollensuredhewasn’tgoingtotouchAsh.
Brennanwasanhonorablemaninhisownbackward,lethalway.
Icrackedmyknuckles,myeyesfirmlyonmycards.Ihadtwopairs.IwouldbetbothmynutsHunter’scardshadalphabetlettersanddrawingsofanimalsatbest.ForanIrishman,luckwasn’tonhisside.
“I’mengaged.”Idroppedthebomb.
Samchokedonhiscigarette,theinch-longashdanglingfromitfallingontothetable.Huntercackled.Devongavemeacurtnodofapproval.
Me?Ifeltnothing.
NumbnesswasanotionIwasfamiliarwith,knewhowtomanage,anddidnotstirmeoffcourse.
Hunterslappedhisthigh,hiscardsrainingdownonthefloorashelaughedhisassoff.Hefellfromhischair,holdinghisstomach.
“Engaged!”hebellowed,dragginghimselfupbacktohisseat.“Who’stheunluckywoman?Yourblowupdoll?”
“HernameisMinkaGomes.”
“YounamedyourblowupdollMinka?”Mybrotherwipedatearfromthecornerofhiseye,downingabottleofwater.“Ithoughtyou’dgoforsomethingmorestripper-y.LikeLolaorCandy.”
“Idon’trecallrunningabackgroundcheckonher.”Sampinnedmewithaglare.Thesedays,IhadhimdigupdirtoneveryoneImet,frombusinesspartnerstoshoeshiners.
“Justbecauseyouhaven’theardofherdoesn’tmeanshe’snotinexistence,”Ibitout.Admittedly,itwashardtoexplainhowI’dendedupengagedtoacompletestranger.
MinkawaspleasantenoughwhenIstoppedbyherhousewithamarriageofferearliertoday.Devonpreppedherforourmeeting.Shesaidshewashappytosignallthenecessarypaperworkandaskedfortwoclausestobeaddedduringournegotiations.ShewantedacabininAspen,andanannualtriptoFashionWeekinaEuropeancityofherchoice,alongwithahealthyshoppingbudget.Iwascontenttograntbothherwishes.
Shewasbeautiful,polite,andobnoxiouslyeagertoplease.
Shealsostirredabsolutelynothinginme.
“PleaseexplaintomehowyouwentfromcorruptingEurope’sfinestprincessestogettingengagedtosomerandomlocalchick.”Hunterscrubbedhischin.
Mybrother,liketherestofmyfamily,thoughtI’dspentmytimeromancingEU’sfinestroyals.ThatwasastoryIspoon-fedmyfamilytoprotectthemfromthetruth.Ididbrushshoulderswithduchessesanddaughtersofearls,sociallyclimbingmywayfromanotherrichAmericanmantothekindofpersonwhokneweveryoneworthknowingonthecontinent.
ButI’dnevertouchedthem.
I’dnevertouchedawomanIhadn’tpaidfor,ifIwasbeinghonest.
WhichIwasn’t,withanyone.
AnyonebutPersephone.
Eventwodayslater,Istillwasn’tsurewhatmademetellheraboutmypreferencetopayforsex.IdeliberatelyleftoutthepartwherethewomenI’dseenweren’tprostitutes,perse.Waitedtoseetherevulsiononherinnocentface.Butshewastoooccupiedwithmentallybeatingmewithherpurseforridiculingherfeelingstoletthesmalldetailsregister.
Payingforsexwasmywaytogiveconventionalrelationshipsthemiddlefinger.I’dtakencareofthewomenI’dseen,bothinbedandoutofit,butI’dneverofferedthemmorethanagoodtime.Dates,presents,phonecalls,feelings—thosewereoffthetable.
Mypartnerscamewithadetailedlistofdosanddon’ts,andtheonlythingtheyexpectedfromourencounterswasalargetip,acomplimentaryorgasmfromyourstruly.
Myfirsttimewithaworkinggirlwasatagefourteen.
MyfatherhadvisitedmeatEvon,notlongafterAndrewArrowsmithunearthedmysecret.
WeheldaprivatedinneratLondon’sSavoy.Iworealong-sleevedshirteventhoughitwassummertohidethecigaretteburnsandbitemarks.AthairaskedmehowmanygirlsI’dsleptwith,spooningRoyalBelugaonasmalltoast.Icurledmyindexfingertomythumb,makingazerosign.Ididn’tthinkmuchofit.NotonlydidIattendanall-boyschoolbutIalsohadbiggerfishtofrythangettingmydickwet.
GeraldFitzpatrickchokedonhiscaviar.Thenextday,hedecidedtorectifymydiresituationbyhurlingmyskinnyassontoaplaneandtakingmeonatriptoNorway,wherehewasscheduledtovisitoneofRoyalPipelines’oildrillingrigs.
Maja,theNorwegianwomanwhorelievedmeofmycelibatestatus,wasinherearlythirties,aboutaheadtallerthanteenageme,andcomicallyconfusedwhenInearlythrewupinherlap.Ididn’twanttolosemyvirginity.Notatagefourteen,nottoastranger,anddefinitelynotinahigh-endbrothelonasidestreetinOslo.Butdoingthingstoappeasemyfatherwasn’tastrangeconceptforme.
ItwasjustanotherTuesdayintheFitzpatrickhouseholdwhereAthairdangledthekingdom’skeysinfrontofmetogetwhathewanted.
Don’tslouch.
Don’tcurse.
Donotmisspellaword,falloffahorse,displaylessthanpristinetablemanners,orlookyourfatherintheeye.
Andso,I’dputonacondomandpaidmydues.
WhenI’dgottenoutoftheroom,Athairclappedmyback,andsaid,“This,moòrga,istheonlythingwomenaregoodfor.Openingtheirlegsandtakingorders.You’dbewisetorememberthat.Trytoupgradeyourmistressesoften,nevergetattachedtoanyofthem,andwhenthetimetosettledowncomes,makesureyoufindsomeonemanageable.Someonewhowouldn’taskfortoomuch.”
Athairdidashepreached.
JaneFitzpatrickwasquiet,coy,andlackedanythingresemblingabackbone.That,ofcourse,didn’tstopherfromcheatingonherhusband.Bothmyparentscommittedadultery,oftenandopenly.
Igrewuplookingattheworstpossibleexampleformatrimony,tooknotes,andwasexpectedtofollowintheirfootsteps.
MybabybrotherhadapparentlybeenabsentfortheWomenareEvillecture.Huntermarriedforlove.Notonlythatbuthealsoweddedthemostdifficultgirlhe’deverlaideyeson.
Shockingly,heseemedhappy.
Thenagain,thatmeantnothing.HunterpossessedtheintellectofaLabpuppy.Iwasprettysurebone-shapedcookiesandlickinghisownballswouldmakehimcontent,too.
“EarthtoKill?”Huntersnappedhisfingersinfrontofmyface.“IaskedwhyMinka.Whynow?”
IopenedmymouthtotellhimtomindhisownbusinesswhenPetar,myestatemanager,stormedintotheroom.Hishairwasdampfromrain.
“Youhaveavisitor,sir.”
Ididn’tlookupfrommycardseventhoughsomethingweirdandunwelcomehappenedinmychest.
ThechancesofitbeingPersephonewereslimtonone.Evenifitwasher,shemissedherchance,andtherewasnothingtobedoneaboutitnow.
“Whoisit?”Ibarked.
“Mrs.Veitch.”
IcouldfeelHunter’sgazedartinginmydirection,burningaholethroughmycheek.
“I’mbusy.”Imotionedtothetable.
“Sir,it’slateandraininghard.”
“Icanreadthetimeandlookthroughthewindow.Callheracabifyoufeelsoinclinedtobeagentleman.”
“There’sastorm.Linesaredown.Taxiappsaren’tworking,”Petarcountered,handsbehindhisback,eachwordpronouncedslowlyandmeasuredly.HeknewIdidnotappreciatebeingslighted.Iwasalwaystrigger-happytogetridofunrulystaffers.“Sheissoakedtotheboneandseemsprettyupset.”
Hunteropenedhismouth,butIraisedahandtostophim.
“Shehasfiveminutes.Bringherin.”
“Youwanthertocomeheretothisroom?”Petarglancedaround.Arancidcloudofcigaretteandcigarsmokehungaboveourheads,andthesourscentofstale,warmalcoholsoakedthewalls.Theroomsmelledlikeabrothel.
Shewasadamselindistress,andIwasinvitingherintothelion’sden.
ButPersephoneturneddownmyoffer.Ifmyegotookabeating,thenherscoulduseafewspanks,too.
ImetPetar’seyeswithavacantstare.
“It’smywayorthehighway,andasfarasmyknowledgegoes,Mrs.Veitchcan’taffordacar.Send.Her.In.”
Notaminutelater,Persephonewasusheredintothedrawingroom,drenchedandtattered.Athintrailofwaterfollowedher,hershoessqueakingwitheverystepshetook.Hereyes,blueandbottomlessasthepitoftheocean,lookedfeverish.Yellowhairframedhertemplesandcheeks,andherholedwindbreakerwastangledaroundherwillowybody.
Shestoppedinthemiddleoftheroom,gracefulasaqueenwho’dallowedherservantsthetimeoftheday.Isawtheminuteitreallyhither.Whenshetookinhersurroundings.Thesoftlighting,refreshments,andcharcuteries.
Thislifecouldhavebeenyours.Youturneditdownforlove.
Shedrewherselftoherfullheight—which,granted,wasn’tmuch—tookabreath,andhonedhergazeonme.
“Iaccept.”
Thetwosimplewordsexplodedintheroom.
Watchthatpulse,Cillian.
“Ibegyourpardon?”Iraisedaneyebrow.
SheignoredHunter,Sam,andDevon,exhibitingballsbiggerthanallthreeofthem.Petarstoodbesideher,hisstanceprotective.
Persephonetippedherchinhigher,refusingtocowerandflail.Atthatmoment,soakedasaratandwellonherwaytopneumonia,shewasmercilesslybeautiful,andIknewexactlywhyIalwayschosetolookatheroldersisterwheneverwewereinthesameroom.
Emmabelledidn’tblindme.
Didn’tconsumeme.
Didn’tmoveme.
Shewasjustanotherwomanpackedwithmannerismandentitlement,existingloudly,unapologetically,desperatetobeseenandacknowledged.
Persephonewaspureandnoble.Bareofpretense.
“Youroffer.”Hervoicewassilkyandsweetaspomegranate.“Iacceptit.”
Sheaccepts.
Iwasgoingtopunchawall.
No,notjustawall.Allofthem.ReducingmyBackBayJacobeanmansiontonothingbutdust.
Sheisacceptinganofferthat’snolongeronthetable.
Hercheeksreddened,butsherefusedtobudge,nailedtomyfloor,apoolofwaterformingaroundher.
Havingherfeltalmosttooeasyatthatmoment,yetentirelyimpossible.
“Persy,I—”Hunterrosefromhisseat,abouttorushoverandhelphiswife’sfriend.Ipushedhimbackdownbyhisshoulder,pinninghimonthechairtothewallwithforce,myeyesstillfixatedonher.
“YouknowwhyIlikeGreekmythology,Persephone?”Iasked.
Hernostrilsflared.Shedidn’ttakethebaitbecausesheknewI’dtellher,anyway.
“Thegodshaveahistoryofpunishingwomenforhubris.Yousee,fifty-fivehoursago,Iwasn’tgoodenoughtobeyourhusband.Ittookyoulongerthanwe’dagreedtogetbacktome.”
Hermouthfellopen.I’doutedusinfrontofallouracquaintanceswithoutasmuchasablink.
“Therewasastorm.”Hereyesflared.“Trainsweredown.Ihadtoridemybikeintherain—”
“I’mbored.”Droppingmyheadtotheheadrest,Igrabbedashinyapplefromoneofthefruitassortmentsandrolleditinmyhand.“Andyou’relate.Thatistheessenceofthesituation.”
“IcamehereassoonasIcould!”
Hershockwasreplacedwithangernow.Thetwosteelmarblesofhereyesshimmered.Notwithtears,butwithsomethingelse.SomethingIhadn’tseenbeforeinthemuntiltonight.
Wrath
Myfather’swordsechoedinmyhead—marrysomeonemanageableSomeonewhowouldn’taskfortoomuch.
Minkaseemeddocile,adaptable,anddesperate.
Persephone,ontheotherhand,askedfortheunthinkable—love.
“Alreadyproposedtosomeoneelse.”IsankmyteethintotheEnvyapple,itsnectartricklingdownmychinasoureyesremainedlockedinabattleofwills.“Sheacceptedimmediately.”
Theroomfilledwithsilence.
Alleyesweredirectedatme.
Thiswasn’tapowertrip.
Thiswasafull-blownactofhumiliation.
Ididn’twantPersephonePenrose.
Shewasn’tgoodenoughforme
Evenifshewere,whatgoodwouldcomeoutofit?ShewantedallthethingsIdidn’t.
Arelationship.Apartnership.Intimacy.
Iwasn’tHunter.Iwasn’tcapableoflovingorevenlikingmywife.Tolerating?Possibly,andonlyifwereducedourcommunicationtoonceamonth.Besides,thedaymybrothermarriedSailorBrennan,I’dalmostletPersephonedieofpoisoningjusttoavoidbeinginthesameroomalonewithher.
I’dbeensecondsawayfromdevouringher.
Fromsinkingmyteethintoherfirm,roundass.
FromgrindingmyselfagainsthertitsuntilIcameinmypantsfromthefriction.
AndnowIwashardinaroomfullofpeople.Terrific
Mypointwas,Persephonewastoomessy,toocomplicated,andtoomuchatemptationformetoyieldto.Minkawastherightchoice.MymindwouldneverdrifttoMinkaunprompted.
“Youproposedtosomeoneelse,”sheechoed,stumblingbackward.
“MinkaGomes.”Samstuckhisseventhcigarettethathourtothecornerofhislips,fullycommittedtogetlungcancerbeforethenightwasover.Helititup,puffingaway.“We’retryingtofigureoutwherehefoundthepoorthing.Ringabell?”
“I’mafraidnot,”shesaidquietly.
“Dodgedabullet.Kill’stoocold,tooold,andtoosetinhiswaysforanicegirllikeyou.Nottomention,Ihavemysuspicionsabouthispreferencesinthesack.LightacandleforMissGomesnexttimeyougotochurchandthankyourluckystars.Theydefinitelyalignedtonight.”Sampuffedaribbonofsmokedirectlyinherdirection,makinghercough.
Iwantedtokillhim.
“Persy.”Hunterstood.“Wait.”
Sheshookherhead,musteringadignifiedsmile.
“I’mokay,Hunt.Totallyfine.Please,getbacktoyourgame.Thankyouforyourtime.Ihopeyouenjoytherestoftheevening.”
Sheturnedaround,herstepsbriskandeven.Petarshotmeadisgustedlook,thenturnedaroundandchasedher.
Hunterwasabouttorunafterbothofthem,butIgrabbedthecollarofhisshirtandnailedhimbacktohisseatagain.
“Finishthegamefirst.”
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?”mybrotherroared.HisGuinnesstippedover.TheblackstouthissedasitspreadacrossmyPersiancarpet.“YouwentaroundBostonproposingtowomen—oneofthemmywife’sbestfriend—andyouwantmetofinishthefuckinggame?Fine.Here.WhateverKillwants,Killgets.”Heslammedhiscardsoverthetable.“Now,ifyou’llexcuseme,I’mgoingtogofixthisshit.”Hepointedatthedoor.“Thelastthingmypregnantmissusneedsisapissed-offfriend.SweartoGod,Kill,ifyoupulledsomethingonthisgirl…ifyousomehowgotherpregnanttomakesureyouhaveanheir…”
Iflippedhisdiscardedcardsover,ignoringhishysterics.
Hehadafullhouse.
Hunterwaswrong.Ididn’talwaysgetwhatIwanted.
Hewasmarryingsomeoneelse.
Iwasafewhourslate,showingupatalmostmidnight,lookingandfeelinglikearagdollthathadbeenleftinthemudforthepastcentury,andhedidn’tevengivemeasecondglance.
WhatdidIexpect?
Youexpectedhimtotreatyouasmorethanjustawombforhire.
ButthatwasmyfirstandhopefullylastmistakeregardingCillianFitzpatrick.
Imademywayfrommybiketomyapartmentbuilding,stompingonpuddlesdeliberately.Itwasthemiddleofthenight,raininghard,andmywindbreakerwastornfromtheridetoandfromBackBay.Mytoesandfingerswerenumb.Maybetheyfelloffontheway,andIhadn’tevennoticed.Therestofmybodywasn’tgoingtomissthemwhenByrneandKaminskifinallydismemberedmeandfedmetothecrows.
Whereveryouare,Pax,IhopeyousuffertwiceasmuchasIdo.
Iopenedthefrontdoortomybuilding—Belle’sbuilding.Ihadnohome,Iremindedmyself.Itwasdark,damp,andmoldy.Itookthefirststeptowardthestairwaywhenmyheadflewsideways.Mycheekburnedsobadmyeyesstungwithtears.
Awhip-likethwack!piercedtheairasecondlater.BeforeIknewwhatwashappening,Iwasonmyknees,facedown.Thesoundofgurglingreverberatedintheemptyhallway.IttookmeamomenttorealizeIwasitssource.
Asharpkicktomystomachfollowed,comingfromtheblanketofdarkness.Icollapsedonmystomach,gagging.Craningmynecktolookatmyassaulter,Ishotmyarmforward,pattingthefloortofindmybaginthedarkandreachforthepeppersprayinit.
Aheavybootflattenedovermyfingers.Acrackingsoundfilledtheairasmyattackerputhisfullweightonmyhand.
“Thinkagain,bitch.”
Forthefirsttimeinmylife,fearhadashapeandataste.Myattackerkickedmybagaway,sendingitspinningacrosstheflooruntilithitthewall.Itooktheopportunitytoclawmynailsontohisankle.IfeltmynailsbendingbackwardasIdesperatelytriedtohurthim.Iusedhislegforleverage,pulledmyselfup,andsankmyteethintohisshin,clampingonitviciouslyuntilIfeltmygumsbleeding.
“Fuck!Youwhore!”
Adirtygreenarmybootkickedmeoff.Ionlyknewonemanwhoworethistypeoffootwear.
Kaminski.
“Tom,”Icroaked,usinghisfirstnameasifitwouldhelp.Warm,metallicbloodfilledmymouth.Adrenalinecoursedthroughmyveins,andeverycellinmybodyprickledwithpanic.“Please,Tom.Getoffme.Ican’tbreathe.”
Anotherkickfoundme.Thistime,hehitmyjaw.Myfacethrobbed,andIbitmytongueintheprocess.Morebloodfilledmymouth.
Kaminskicouldendmerighthere,rightnow,andnoonewouldeverknow.TheonlypersonwhoknewaboutthemobstersaftermewasCillian,andbetweenalmostlettingmepoisonmyselfandrefusingtohelpme,itwassafetosaybringingmejusticewasn’thighonhisto-dolist.
Istartedcrawlingupthestairs,franticallytryingtogetaway,butKaminskigrabbedmyfoot,pullingmedownthethreestairsImanagedtotake.Hespunmearound,unzippinghimself.
“Whydon’tweseewhatyou’reworth,huh?”Hismenacinglaughterrattledtheair.“Seein’asyou’llbesuckingalotofcockinafewdaystopaybackPax’sdebt.”
Rearingmybodyback,IsentakicktoTom’sgroin,smackingmysneakersagainsthisheavyerection.Hetrippedbackward,screaminginpainashecuppedhisgroin.Iturnedaroundandclimbedupthestairsonmyhandsandknees,likeananimal,gutturalscreamsleavingmylungs.IknewBellewasn’thome,butwehadfourotherneighborsinthebuilding.
Ahandwrappedaroundmyhair,pullingmyheadupwithaviolentyank.Kaminski’srancidbreathskatedovermycheek,thescentofcigarettesandplaquehittingmynostrils.
“Savedbythebell.Youkilledmyhard-on,butthatjustmeansI’lltakeyouuptheassnexttime.You’vegotaweek,Mrs.V.OneweekbeforeIturnallyournightmaresintoreality.Youbetterbelieveit.”
Heletgoofmyhair.Myfacehitthefloorwithathud.Theentrancedoorslammedbehindme.
Ilaythere,allowingmyselfararemomenttobreak.ForthefirsttimesincePaxtonhadleft,Icried,pressingmyswollen,hot,andbruisedfacetothefloor.
Curlingintoaball,Ibawledlikeababy,theagonyrockingmebackandforth.
Icriedformakingallthewrongchoicesinlife.
Forbeingdesertedbymyhusband.
Forpayingforhissins.
Forcyclinginthestorm,wetandcoldanddesperate,andforbeingsofreaking,unbelievably,patheticallystupid.
ForwastingAuntieTilda’spreciousCloudWishonCillianFitzpatrick,whoturnedouttobethevillaininmystory.
Forbelievingherstupidmiraclesinthefirstplace.
Minutes,ormaybehourshadpassedbeforeIpeeledmyselffromthefloor,slappingthedirtandbloodfrommyscrapedknees.Idumpedmybagintothetrashcanoutsidethebuilding,shovingmywalletintomypantiestohideit,thenwentupstairstoBelle’sapartment.
MysisterhadtobelieveIhadbeenviolentlymugged.
Icouldn’tdragherintothismess.
Aweek.Iwantedtoscream.
Sevenshortdays.
Beforemylifewouldbeover.“Employeecompensationwithintheoilandgasindustryiscurrentlyontherise,andwecameupwithagreatplantopreservekeystaffersandencouragepotentialprospectstoapplytoRoyalPipelines…”
MyminddriftedasmyHRdirector,Keith,deliveredwhatwassurelyoneofthemostboringpitchesIhadeverlistenedtoinmylengthycorporatecareer.
Acrossfromme,Hunterwasonhisphone,probablyrenewinghisPornhubPremiumsubscription.
Devonsatnexttome,dutifullyfulfillinghisroleastheheadofmycompliancedepartmentbyscowlingathisphoneandignoringtheout-of-countrycallsthatkeptgoingthroughtohisansweringmachine.
Themanwasgoingtoinheritadukedominafewyears(ifheeverbotheredtoshowhisfaceinEngland),yetherefusedtosetfootinEngland.
ItappedmyMontblancpenonthetable,staringoutthewindow.
ThreedayshadpassedsincePersephonehadshownupatmydoor,acceptingmyoffer.
ThreedaysinwhichIhadtimetoreflectonthefactthat,indeed,astormhadparalyzedmostofBoston’spublictransportationthatday.
ThreedaysinwhichI’dcompletelyforgottenMinkaGomesexisted.
ThreedaysinwhichI’dimaginedPersephonebirthingmebabiesthatlookedlikelittlereplicasofher—withblondcurlsandcyaneyesandsun-kissedskin—andwasn’thalf-disgustedwiththeprospect.
MyphonepingedwithanemailnotificationwhileKeithcontinuedboringtheroomtodeath.
Islidmythumboverthescreen.
From:CaseyBrandt@royalpipelines.com
To:Cillianfitzpatrick@royalpipelines.com
HiiiiiiMr.Fitzpatrick,
JustwantedtoletyouknowthejewelerwassenttoMs.Gomes’apartmentearlierthismorningfortheringmeasurements,andIhavethemherewithme.
ShouldIproceedtopicktheengagementringonyourbehalf,orwouldyouliketotakealookafterall?Pleaseletmeknow.?
Relatedly,Ms.DianaSmith,thePRdirectorforRoyalPipelines,wouldlovetoscheduleabriefmeetingwithyouthisweekconcerningtheofficialannouncementofyourengagementtoMs.Gomestomakethingsofficial.
I’menclosingyourweeklyschedule.Thehighlightedslotscouldbesecuredforthemeeting.
Ifyouneedmeforanything(andIdomeananything,LOL)else,letmeknow<3
xoxo
CaseyBrandt
ExecutivePersonalAssistanttoCillianFitzpatrick,CEOofRoyalPipelines.
Iglancedupfrommyphone,frowningatHunter.
Heglaredbackatme,mouthingfixitfromacrosstheboarddesk.
MaybeIdidneedtofixthis.
Mybrotherwaspitifullysoftandcarednotonlyabouthisaverage-lookingwife,butalsoaboutherhang-ons.
ThentherewasAislingtothinkabout.Shehadagentlesoulanddidn’tdeservetomournPersephoneifthelatterwasmurderedbysomestreetpunks.
ThentherewasSailor.IfPersephonewasfoundchoppedintominusculepieces,floatinginCharlesRiverlikestaletofuinamisosoup,shecouldlosethebaby.
ChoosingtoignorethefactI’dneverpreviouslyshownsignsofconscience,integrity,orconsiderationtoanyoneotherthanmydick,I’ddecidedtogivePersephoneonemorechancetoredeemherself.
Thiswouldbemyprobono.
Marryingagirltosaveherfromsuredeath.
FlowerGirlwasgoingtoowemesomuchafterthesolidIwasabouttogiveherthatshewasgoingtobeindebtedtomeforeternity.ThatmeantIcouldshapeourrelationshipanywayIchose,andwhatIchosewastoseeherthreetimesayear,forimportantholidays,companyevents,andanannualsex-a-thon(ifIwasgoingtopayforherandherfutureboytoy’sluxurylives,Iwouldmakesureheknewwhoshereallybelongedto).
Myfingersflewovermyphonescreen.
Cillian:Getmydriverreadyimmediately.
Casey:Mr.Fitzpatrick?Areyoutextingme?!<3
Whatwasitwithpeoplestatingtheobvious?
Cillian:HeadingoutoftheHRmeetingnow.IfheisnottherebythetimeIexitthebuilding,you’rebothfired.
Istormedoutoftheboardroomwithoutsomuchasanapology.Keithstoppedmid-speech,hismouthslacking.HunterandDevonexchangedlooks.
Ididn’tcare.
Ididn’twanttomarryMinkaGomes.
Ididn’twanttomarryPersephonePenrose,either,butatleastIknewwhatIwasgettingoutofthebargain.Namely,photogenicchildren,adotingmothertothem,andawifewhowouldlookgoodonmyarm.
AllIneededwastokeepPersephoneatarm’slengthandawayfrommeafterwetiedtheknot.
Casey:Yourdayisbookedback-to-back,sir.
Cillian:Youmeanmydayisclearandwideopenbecauseyouusedyourthreeworkingbraincellstoshiftthingsaround,whichiswhatI’mPAYINGYOUFOR.
Casey:Absolutely,sir.WhatshouldIdoregardingtheengagementring?
Cillian:SendMs.Gomesafatcheckandanapologynote.Iwillnotbemarryingher.
Casey:OMGreally?
Casey:Sorry,Imean,isthevacancystillopen,sir???
Casey:Iwillmakeagoodwife.Ipromise.Iknowhowtocook,howtofish,babysatlike,atonofkidsinmylife.AndIalsoknowotherthings…
Igotoutoftheelevator,mybroguesclickingoverthemarbledlobby.IcouldseetheEscaladewaitingatthecurbfromthefloor-to-ceilingwindow,thesubzeroblizzarditsbackdrop.
Slidinginthebackseat,IbarkedPersephone’sworkaddresstothedriver.
Casey:Nevermind.Sorry.Thatwastotallyoutoforder.Ifyoudon’tintendtomarryMs.Gomes,shouldIcancelthePRmeetingwithDiana?
Cillian:IsaidI’mnotmarryingMs.Gomes.Sheisnottheonlywomanontheplanet.
Casey:Sir,I’mafraidIdon’tunderstand.?
Cillian:Don’tbeafraid.Ignoranceisbliss.
ThestaffatLittleGeniusAcademyrecognizedmethesecondIsetfootinside.AneagerreceptionistrushedtohelpmefindmywaytoMs.Persy,accompanyingmedownacorridorfullofdrawings,artprojects,andsqueakytoys.
Theplacesmelledlikeawarmfartandapplesauce.Itwasadirereminderofthefactthathavingheirsrequiredraisingthemfirst.IsupposedIcoulddothewholeremote-dadgigAthairwassogoodatandlimitmycommunicationwithmyspawnsuntiltheywerefullyformedanddidn’trequireanyasswiping.
“Thereitis,Ms.Persy’sclass.”Thereceptioniststoppedbytheclassroomdoor,swingingthedooropenforme.
IwatchedasFlowerGirlprancedaroundaroomfullofkids.Herhair—honeyhighlightstangledinbrightyellow—wasgatheredintoaDutchbraid,andsheworeanankle-lengthwhitedressandflatshoesthatlookedaboutadecadeold.
Shewasdirt-poor,indeepshit,andstillhappytogotoworkeveryday.
Unbelievable.
Sheheldthehandsoftwoshy-lookingfour-year-oldsastheclassdancedinacircle.Everyfewseconds,themusicwouldstop,andthekidswouldfreezeinplace,afunnyexpressionontheirfaces,tryingnottocrackup.
Ileanedagainstthedoorframe,handstuckedinmyfrontpockets,andobserved.Ittookherthreeminutestonoticeme.Anothertwotoliftherjawoffthefloor,straightenherspine,andturnscarlet.
Oureyesmetacrosstheroom,andthatnaggingmurmurinmychesthappenedagain.
Getthatchecked.Ifyoudropdeadfromaheartattackatforty,you’llhavenooneelsetoblame.
Shewinced,lookinglikeIphysicallyslappedher.
“Mr.Fitzpatrick.”
“MissPenrose.”
“Veitch,”shecorrected,justtospiteme.
“Notforlong,”Inoteddryly.“Aword?”
“Iknowmany.Myfavoriteonerightnowis—leave.”
“Youwanttohearmeout.”Icrackedmyknuckles.“Nowsaygoodbyetoyourlittlefriends.”
Shelookedbackandforthbetweenthekidsandme,thenturnedandmurmuredsomethingtotheteachernexttoher,andhurriedmyway,dunkingherheaddown.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Sheclosedthedoorbehindher,whisper-shouting
I’vebeenaskingmyselfthesamequestionsincebailingonKeithandhissnooze-festspeech.
WhatthehellwasIdoinghere?
Hunter?
Aisling?
SomethingaboutPersephonegettingpotentiallyoffedbythemafia?
Thereasonsblurred,buttheyseemedvalidwhenIsatintheboardroom,consideringafuturewithawomanIdidn’tknowanddidn’tinterestme.AwomanwhowantedanAspencabinasifitwastheflippingnineties.
“Whenareyoudonehere?”Idemanded.
“Notforanotherfourhours.”
“Taketherestofthedayoff.”
“Areyoucrazy?Icanbarelyaffordmylunchbreaks.”Hereyeswidened.“IonlytakethembecauseIhavetobylaw.Iaskedthedirectortostayafterschoolhourstohelpcleanupandgetsomeextramoney.Ican’tbail.”
Thewomanwasasstubbornasamule.
AndIwasabouttomarryher.
Marryamanageablewoman,Athairsaid.
Itwasn’ttoolatetoturnaroundandwalkawaybuthavingthismoron’sdeathonmyconsciencemademesuspectIhadoneafterall.Thethoughtmademeshudder.
No.Notaconscience.Youjustdon’twantabigmess.
“Taketherestofthedayoff,oryouwillhavenojobtoreturnto,”Igrittedout,abouttoturnaroundandmakemywayoutsidebeforeIgotsecondhandfoodpoisoningfromthesmellherealone.Ipaused,examininghercloselyforthefirsttime.
“Whatthehellhappenedtoyourface?”
Herlowerlipwasswollen,hercheekwasbruised,andunderthethicklayerofmakeup,Icouldseeaprominentshinercirclingherlefteye.
Shelookedaway,tiltingherfacedowntohideitfromme.
“It’snothing.Noneofyourconcern,anyway.”
Theloansharkhadfinishedwithhisthreatsandmovedtoactions.
Mypulsequickened.Icrackedmyknuckles.Ididn’tunderstandmyreactiontoherface.Shewasclearlyaliveandingeneralgoodhealth.
Buttheideaofsomeonetouchingher…hittingher…
“Youhavetenminutestowrapthisupandmeetmeoutside.YoushouldknowbynowthatIdonotliketobekeptwaiting.”
IturnedaroundandsaunteredbacktotheEscalade,alreadyregrettingthedecisiontomarryher.Thereweren’tenoughpainkillersintheworldtosavemefromtheheadacheFlowerGirlhadinstoreforme.
Sheappearedminuteslater,wrappedinacheapcoatwithholesintwodifferentplaces.Iopenedthebackseatdoorforher.Sheclimbedinside,andIfollowed.
“Drivearound,”Iorderedmychauffeur,clickingtheremotetoraisethepartition.
Persephonefumbledwiththeseatbelt,avoidingeyecontact.
IstaredattheleatherheadrestinfrontofmewhileIspoke.Lookingatherfaceinitscurrentconditionmademeangry,andIwasneverangry.
“Wewillliveinseparatehouses.I’llremaininmyestate,andyou’lllivedowntheroad.There’sanewconstructiononCommonwealthAvenue.Afour-bedroom,thirty-five-hundred-square-footcondo.Iaskedmyrealtortosecureyouthepenthouseforarental.Youcandiscussyourpermanentresidencewithherandtailorittoyourpreference.”
Shewhippedherheadinmyperiphery,staringatmeinshock.
“What?”
“Isaid,there’sanewestateonCommonwealthAve—”
“Iheardwhatyousaid.”Herbrowsknitted.“Ithoughtyouwantedtomarrysomeoneelse.”
“Wantisabigword.Idecidedtosettleforyousincetheotherwomanisnotonthebrinkofextinction.”Unbuttoningmypeacoat,Icrossedmylegsandlitacigar,stinkinguptheentirebackseat.Thehailpoundingonthetintedwindowsmeantshehadtositinthesmall,confinedspaceandbreatheinmypoison
Agoodexerciseforourfuture.
Ifsherefusedmeagain,IwasgoingtodriveusacrosstheCanadianborderandpaysomeonetomarryusjusttospiteher.Neverinmylifehadawomanmademefeeledgy,butthisassertivelittleshi…femalehadsomehowmanagedjustthat.
Shefoldedherarms,smilingtriumphantly.“Shesaidno,didn’tshe?Couldn’tstomachbeingyourwife.”
Ipuffedacloudofsmokedirectlyinherface,notgracinghernonsensewithananswer.
“Smartgirl.”Sheignoredthescreenofsmokeskulkingbetweenus.
“Judgingbythestateofyourface,turningmedownisnotaluxuryyoucanafford.”
ShestaredatmewithherCaliforniaskyeyes.Hercomplexionwassosmoothanddewythattheneedtosinkmyteethintothesideofherthroatjusttotarnishitsperfectionmademyfingerstwitch.
“CanItryyourcigar?”Shetuckedastrayhairbehindherear.
“I’mofferingyouatwenty-million-dollarcondo,andyouareaskingmeaboutacigar?”Ishotherasidelongglance.
“Paxtonneverletmetrythem.Hesaidcigarsaremanly.”Shelickedherlips,hereyesonthethickbrownrolloftobacco.
Paxtonwasanidiot.FormorereasonsthanIcouldcount.
Reluctantly,Ipassedherthecigar.Sheclaspedherpinklipsaroundit,herheavy-liddedeyesblinkingbackatme.Sheinhaled,almostcoughingoutalung,andpasseditbacktome,wavingherhandaround.Ididn’ttakeit,stillpreoccupiedbythewayherlipswrappedaroundthething.Thiswasanentirelynewsideofme—afourteen-year-oldone,presumably—Iwasn’teagertoexplore.
“Ittasteslikeburningfeet.”
“You’renotsupposedtoinhale.”Awrybladeofamusementcoloredmytone.“Norareyousupposedtolickburningfeet.Nowsuckonitlikeit’sadick,notajoint.”
Shecockedherheadsideways,squintingatmeinamusement.
“Soundslikeanaudition.”
“Don’tflirt,”Iwarned.“It’snotyouraffectionI’mafter.”
Mydesirenormallywasn’tdirectedataspecificwomanorindividual.Rather,itwasapricklysensationIneededtosquash.ThewomenI’dusedweremerelyvessels.
Iwasnotaccustomedtogravitatingtowardaspecifichumanbeing.
Frankly,Ididn’tknowifIwascapableofdesiringawoman.IfIwere,IhadnodoubtitcamewithsideeffectsIwasn’tgoingtolike.
Persephonetriedagain,puffingonthecigargently,thenhandeditbacktome.Thetipsofourfingersbrushed.AzingofelectricityshotupmyspineinasensationIcouldonlydescribeasbothhorribleandpleasant.
Iwantedtokissherandthrowheroutofthecar,preferablyatthesametime.
Fortunatelyformylegaldepartment,Ididneither.
“Whatelsewouldourmarriageentail?”Sheloweredherlashes,lickingherlowerlip.
“Youwillbeavailabletomeforsocialgatherings,volunteeratmycharityofchoice,andplayyourpartasadutifulwife.”
“Hmm.”Sherelaxedintotheseat,cherishingtheluxuriousleatherlikeaspoiledcat.“Anythingmore?”
“YouwillhavetosignanairtightNDAandadraconicpre-nuptialagreement.Butaslongasyou’remywife,you’llbeprovidedfor.Generouslyso.”
“Whatifyoudecidetodivorcemeforsomeoneelse?”
Icanbarelycometotermswithonemarriage.Twowouldbeastretch.
“Iwouldn’tletthatworrykeepyouupatnight,”Isaidtersely.“Idon’thavefeelings,FlowerGirl,whichmeansIcan’tgivethemtoyounorcanItakethemfromyou.Iwillnotdevelopanytowardanyoneelse.”
“Otherthanourheirs,”shesaidthelastwordinaterribleEnglishaccent,pepperingitwithairquotes.
Isuspectedmyneutralitytowardpeoplewouldextendtomyfuturechildren.Buttellingherthatseemedcounterproductivetoputtingababyinher.
“Naturally.”Imovedontotheothertopiconouragenda.“Aspreviouslymentioned,sexisnotapartofthebargain.Iwillsatisfymysexualneedselsewhere.Theencounterswillbediscreetandconfidential,buttheywillhappen,andIexpectnofitsofdramafromyourend.”
Forallmyfaults—andhellknewthereweremany—increasedsexualappetitewasn’toneofthem.Twiceamonthwasenoughtokeepmesated.
Shescrunchedhernose.“Youmeanyou’llstillgotohookers?”
“Theyprefertobecalledsexworkersthesedays.”
“Why?”
“Iimaginebecausehookerhasadegradingconnotationandimpliesbothcriminalandimmortalactivity.ThoughIdonotengageindeepconversationwiththewomenIhiretosuckmycock.”
“No,whydoyouhireescorts?Youcanhaveanywomanyouwant.”
“AndIcanhaveanywomanIwantbecauseofmybankaccount.Whichbringsustosquareone—whynotpayfortheserviceandskipthedinnerandchitchat?”
“What’swrongwithdinnerandchitchat?”shepressed.
“Theyrequiresocializing,andIamfirmlyagainsttheconcept.”
“Whatmadeyouthewayyouare?”
“ThewayIam?”Isnarled.
“Cold.Ruthless.Jaded.”Hereyesroamedmyfaceasthoughtheanswerwaswrittenplainlyonit.
“Amixtureofcrushingexpectations,abadyear,andlacklusterupbringing.”
Everythingaboutmylifehadbeendesignedtokeepmeonthestraightandnarrow.ThatwastheonlywayformetoruntheempireI’dbeenborntolead.Icameintothisworldwithacertaindisadvantage,knowingmyfamilyfrowneduponweaknesses.IhadtofightthewayIwascreatedtosurviveandtookitdaybyday.
Hergazeclungtomine.“Idon’tbuyyourstory.”
“Luckyforme,I’mnotJamesPatterson.”
“Willwebesharingjointcustodyofourpoorchildren?”
“Wecould,”Iansweredevenly,“ifyoudon’tmindthemgrowingupwithnannieshalfthetime.I’llbebusyrunningRoyalPipelinesandexpandingtheFitzpatrickempire.”
Realestate.Commercialbanking.Privateequity.Iwantedtotakeovertheworld.
“Letmegetthisstraight.”Sherubbedatherforehead,frowning.“Youwanttohavekids,butyoudon’twanttotakecareofthemormakethemwithyourwife?”
“Youseemtobefiguringitoutwellallbyyourself.”Ipuffedonmycigar.“That’sexactlywhatI’msaying.”
“Well,thenIsuggestyoudropmeoffrighthere,gobacktoMinka,andpickupwhereyoubothleftoff.”
Rightherewasthemiddleofthehighway.Althoughthrowingheroutwastempting,itwasaheadlineIwaslessthaneagertoexplain.
“Ican’traisechildren,”Isaidevenly.
“Youwillnotbeadeadbeatdad.Youwilltakecareofthemhalfthetime.AndImeanreallyspendtimewiththem.Changediapers,takethemtoT-ballpractices,andreenacttheirfavoriteDisneymovies.Withfull-blowncostumes.”
T-ball?Disney?FlowerGirlwasclearlyplanningonraisingastateuniversityeducateddentalhygienist,notthenextCEOofRoyalPipelines.Luckily,Iwouldbetheretosteermyspawnsintherightdirection.
“Sure,”Iquipped.“I’lldoallofthatnonsense.”
Twiceayearsincethey’llbeinEvonandotherEuropeaninstitutionsyear-round.
Shemunchedonthetipofherhair,whichIfoundsurprisinglynotdisgusting.“Ihaveotherconditions,too.I’llbeabletokeepmyjobandmovearoundunrestricted.Youwillnotbeputtinganysurveillanceorsecurityonme.Iwanttoliveanormallife.”
“Youwon’tneedtoworkadayinyourlife.”
ThegirlwasslowerthananairportWi-Fi.
“So?”Shelookedatmestrangelyasthoughshewasn’tfollowingtheconversation.Thatwasfine.BetweenmyMensamemberIQandherbeauty,ourkidswouldn’tbeacompletewasteofoxygen.“Idon’tworkbecauseIhaveto.”Shenarrowedhereyes.“IworkbecauseIlovewhatIdo.”
Thatwordagain.
“Fine.Keepyourjob.”
“Whataboutsecurity?”
“Nosecurity.”Thatwouldbeawasteofmypreciousresources.
“Onemorething—aslongasothermenareoff-limits,soareotherwomen.”Sheraisedafingerintheair.
“Thisisnothowitworks.”Iputoutmycigar,losingpatience.I’dnegotiatedputtingthreehundred-footdeepholesinthebellyofplanetEarthinlesstimethanittookmetocloseadealwiththiswoman.“You’retheoneatmymercy.Imaketherules.”
“AmI?”Sheblinkedatmeinnocently.“Because,correctmeifI’mwrong,butyouseemedtohavetoldmeyouhaveanotherwifelinedup,andanice,longlistofpotentialcandidatesifshedoesn’tworkout.Yethereyouarewithme.ForareasonIcan’tfathom,wewanteachother.Let’snotpretendotherwise,Kill.”
Kill
Onlymyfriendscalledmethat.Alltwoofthem.
“TheonlyreasonIpreferyoutoMinkaisbecauseifyoudie,thewomeninmylifewouldbeupset,andtheonethingIdislikemorethanhumansaredistressedhumans.”
“Idon’tcarewhatexcuseyougiveyourselfformarryingme,”shesaidplainly.“Ifwegetmarried,we’llbeequal.Atleast,you’llpretendweare.”
Ipoppedmyknucklesinsuccession.
Shewaspissingmeoff.Thatwasafeeling,andIdidn’tdothose.
“Letmeputthisplainly.”Ismiledpolitely.“I’mnotgoingtostaycelibateformonthsorevenweeks.”
“Youwon’thaveto.You’llhaveawife.”
Shewassoredatthispoint,Iwonderedifshewasgoingtocombustinmybackseat.Thatwouldbeahassletocleanfromthebrand-newEscalade.Nottomentiontrickytoexplain.
“No.”Ifeltmymusclestighteningundermysuit.
“No,what?”
“Iwon’tsleepwithyou.”
“Whynot?”
“BecauseIdon’twantto.”
“Why’sthat?”
“Becauseyoudon’tattractme,”Ideadpanned.
Iwasnolongerpissedoff.Iwassweatingnow,too.Whycouldn’tIsticktomyMinkaplan?Persephonewasmyideaofhell.Icouldn’ttreatherwiththesamebrashnessIhandledSailorandEmmabellebecauseshewasaninnocentlittlethinglikemysister,yetIhadtoremindherwhowascallingalltheshots.
“How,praytell,doyoumeantoimpregnateme,ifyoudon’twanttohavesexwithme?”Shescowled,lookingfrustratinglyadorablewhiledoingso.“Youarefamiliarwithhowbabiescometobe,right?Becausenoneoftheversionsincludeacabbage.”
Ibeganscrollingthroughmyphone,answeringemails.
“Iknowhowbabiesaremade,Persephone.That’swhyIboughtastork,”Isaidgravely.
Shelookedshockedforasecond,beforelettingoutagiggle.Itwasacutegiggle,too.Softandthroaty.IfIhadaheart—itwouldsqueeze.
“Ididn’tknowyouhadasenseofhumor,Kill.”
“Ididn’tknowyouweresohard-pressedtogetlaid,”Ivolleyedback,stilltypinganemailtoKeith,akaLordoftheSleep.“Toansweryourquestion,we’lluseIVF.You’llbeknockedupinnotime,andwewon’thavetoknoweachotherbiblically.”
“What’swrongwiththeBible?”Sheeyedme.
“Falseadvertisement.”Ismirkedsardonically.“Goddoesn’texist.”
Physicallywoundedfrommylastcomment,Persephonecoiledinhersideofthebackseat.Apparently,shedrewthelineatGod.
“Ireallyoughttohateyou.”
“Don’tbother.Hateisjustlovewithfearandjealousythrownintothemix.”
“Whyme?Whynotmysister?”Shesquaredhershoulders,clutchingontotheremainderofherdefiancewithbleedingfingernails.
Becauseshe’sprobablyseenmoredickthanatrainstationurinal.
I’dbrokenmanypeopleinmylifetoknowwhattheylookedlikeasecondbeforesubmitting.
Persephonewasfullybentandonthevergeofsnapping.
Oncebroken,she’dbeeasytoreassembletofitmylifestyleandneeds.
“BecauseshepossessesvirtuallyallofthetraitsIdespiseinaperson—frombeingeccentric,entitled,bigmouthed,andopinionatedtosimplybeingalive.”
“Yetyoualwaysogleher.”Thequietnessinhervoiceleftnoroomfordoubt.Persephonedidn’tlikeitwhenIlookedathersister.
“IlookedatherbecauseIdidn’twanttolookatyou,”Igrumbled.
“Whydidn’tyouwanttolookatme?”
Becauseyoumakemypulsebeatfaster,andthatcouldruineverythingI’veeverworkedfor.
Itossedmyphoneaside.WhatwasIthinking,marryingthiswoman?
WhatwasIthinking,puttingmysilly,unexplainableweaknessinmypath?
“DoesitmatterwhyIcouldn’tlookatyou?I’mlookingatyounow,andI’vecometotermswithwhatIsee.Speakingofyoursister,shewouldhavetakennolongerthanfiveminutesofnegotiationsandaquickietoconvince.Yetyou’retheoneIchose.”
FlowerGirl’sfacetwistedinabhorrencebecausesheknewIwasright.Emmabelledisplayedthemoralcompassofafortunecookie.Onpaper,shewasabettermatchformybrashpersonality.Inpractice,however,Persephonewastheonewhokeptmymindreeling.
“We’redonehere.Emailmeyourringmeasurements.”Ipressedthebuttontorolldownthepartition.
Sheheldupapalm.“TwomoreconditionsbeforeIaccept.”
Myknee-jerkreactionwastoadvisehertotaketheseconditionsandshovetheminsideherpertlittleass.ButevenIacknowledgedthatshewasabouttosignoffherentirelifetooneofAmerica’smosthatedmen.IfshewantedaniceHermèsbagandnewpairoftitsasaweddinggift,Icouldaccommodatethat.
“Shoot.”
“One—Iwantustoconceiveourchildrentheold-fashionedway.Iknowyouthinkit’spitifulandpatheticofme,butIdon’tcare.Idon’twanttogothroughIVFtreatments.Idon’twanttotakesomeoneelse’splaceinmyquestforababybeforeItriedthenaturalway.IknowI’mnotyourtaste,butifIcomethisfarforyou,itisonlyfairthatyouwill…”
“Comeinsideyou,”Ifinishedforher.“Gotit.”
IloathedtheideaofsleepingwithPersephone.Theveryconceptoftouchinghermademyskincrawl.NotbecauseIdidn’tfindherattractive.Theoppositewastrue.Ultimately,though,betweenimpregnatingherandhavingherkilled,Ipreferredtheformer.Marginally
“Yourfuneral,”Idrawled.“I’manotoriouslyselfishman,inbedandoutofit.What’stheothercondition?”
“NoescortsuntilIconceive.Youcan’thopinandoutofmybedandstillvisityourEuropeangirlfriends.”
“No.”
“Yes,”shemimickedmydry,indifferenttone.“Whenyouneedsatisfaction,youwillcometome.We’llserviceeachotheruntilIfallpregnant.”
Herpinkcheeksimpliedshewasmortifiedbythesituation,butshesaidthosethingsanyway,whichIcouldn’thelpbutappreciate.
Wewerestilldrivingaround.IlookeddownatmyRolexandrealizedwe’dbeengoingbackandforthfortwoandahalfhours.
Wheredidthetimego,andhowonearthcouldIclaimitback?
Iturnedtolookatheragain.Herfacewastwiceitsusualsize,cutandbruised.
IknewthelittleidiotwasgoingtowalkawayfromthisdealifIsaidno.
Shediditbeforeandwouldnothesitatetodoitagain.
AlambmarchingstraightintoColinByrne’sarmsforslaughter.
“Youdriveahardbargain.Welcometothedarkside,Persephone.Leaveyourheartatthedoor.”Thenextday,DevonWhitehallknockedonmyapartmentdoor,lookinglikesininastripynavy-bluesuitandadashinghaircut.I,incontrast,waswearingWalmart’sfinestdressfromsixwintersagopairedwithshoesthathadseenbetterdaysandadiscountedwindbreakerfromSalvationArmy.
CarrieBradshaw,rightbehindyou!
“Mr.Whitehall?”Ihuggedmydoor,stiflingayawn.
Heshoulderedpastme,soldieringintothestudioapartmentwhereEmmabellewasasleepinoursharedbed,cladinnothingbutathinrednegligee,onebronzedlegflungovertheduvet.
Shecaughthisattention,makinghimpauseandadmiretheview.
“Andwhoisthisfoam-bornAphrodite?”
“Thatwouldbemysister,Mr.Zeus.Nowifyou’dbeaskindastopeelyourcreepyeyesoffherlegs…”
Devonturnedtowardmereluctantly,shovingamassofpaperworkinmychest.LikeCillian,Whitehallhadtheuncannyabilitytomaketheairstiraroundhim.ButwhileKillmademewanttodieinhisarms,Devonsentoffadifferentvibe.Amysteriousone.
“Ifilledoutmostofit.Signwhereindicatedwitharrowflagsandyourinitialsonthebottomofeachpage.Gothroughyourspouse’sdetailsonemoretimeandensurealltheinformationiscorrect.There’salistofoutstandingdocumentationI’llneedyoutohandoverbeforethemarriagecanberesolved.It’sonthelastpage.Getittomebytomorrowmorning.It’lltakethecourttwobusinessdaystoprocesstheapplication,inwhichyouagreenottoclaimanyofyourandMr.Veitch’smutualfundsorpossessions.”
“Wehavenomutualfundsorpossessions.”
“Precisely.”
Askinghimhowheplannedtograntmeaspeedydivorcewasfutile.
CillianFitzpatrickwasaresourcefulmanandonlyworkedwiththecreamofthecrop.WithpeoplelikeDevonWhitehallandSamBrennanonretainer,hecoulddojustaboutanything,shortofpluckingthemoonfromtheskyjustsohecouldenjoyabitmoredarkness.
Iclutchedthepaperstomyribcage,excitementanddreadswirlinginmygut
“Thankyou,Devon.That’s—”
“Bugger,don’tthankme,yousillylittlething.”Heliftedahand,indicatingformetostop.
“Ididn’tdothisoutofthegoodnessofmyheart.Ididitbecauseyourfuturehusbandneedsababy-maker,preferablythekindthatwouldbringpositivepresstohisdoorstep.Whichiswhyyouwillalsofindinthisloadoflegaldocumentsanondisclosureagreementandaprenup,bothofwhichIadviseyoutoreadcarefullyinthecompanyofapropersolicitor.”Hepluckedafewnotesfromhiswallet,tuckingthembetweenmyfingers.“Here’ssomecashincaseyoucan’taffordone.Considerthismyweddinggifttoyou.There’sasheetofdosanddon’tsattached,somestipulationsyouverballyagreedtoyesterday.Nohouse-sharing,anon-competeclause…”
“Non-compete?”Iblinked.“I’mnotplanningtoopenapetroleumcompanyanytimesoon.”
Imean,neversaynever,butthiswasaprettyunlikelyscenario.
Devonsmirked.
“HavingaccesstotheFitzpatrickclanmeansyoucanspyforthecompetitorsordecidetoworkforsomeonewho’dposeaconflictofinterest.”
“I’dneverdothat.”
“Clearly,darling.”HepattedmyheadasthoughIwasapuppyhewasabouttoturnhisbackonbeforeadoptingitssibling.“Wetrustyoucompletely.Andby‘completely’Imean,abouteighty-threepercent.Theotherseventeeniswhyweprefertohaveitinwriting.You’llhavetomortgageyourinnerorgansifyourneverturnsintoamaybe.”
“Howdoyoulivewithyourself?”Imurmuredabsently,flippingthroughthepages.Imeantthatasageneralstatement.Devon,Kill,Sam…theyweresojaded,Isometimeswonderediftheybelievedinanythingatall.
Devonlaughedeasily,hisgazeslidingtowardmysisteragain.
“Consideringyourfacewassmashedbymobsters,Iwouldn’tjudgeyourfuturehusbandforwantingtoprotecthisassets.”
Futurehusband.
Thewordshadn’tsankin.Notyet.
“Doyoumind?”IjerkedmyheadinBelle’sdirection.Sheusuallysleptlikethedead,butIdidn’twanttotakeanyrisks.“Mysisterdoesn’tknowwhathappened.”
“Issheblind?”Hecockedaneyebrow,hiseyeszeroinginonmyblackshiner.
“ShethinksIgotrobbed.”
“Nooffense,butyoudon’tlooklikethetypetocarryextracash.”Apause.“Orcoins.Orfoodstamps.You’redreadfullygaunt.”
Iwantedhimoutoftheapartment,outofthisbuilding,andoutofmylifebeforeBellewokeup.Istillhadn’ttoldheraboutCillian.BythetimeIgothomeyesterday,she’dalreadyleftforworkandreturnedsometimeafterfiveinthemorning,whenIwasasleep.WewerehavingdinneranddrinksatAsh’stonight,andIthoughtitwouldbeagoodideatobreakthenewsthen.
Ishookmyhead.
“Look,canIhavemyfuturehusband’sphonenumber?”
Devonpluckedmyphonefrommyhand,insertingCillian’scontactinfointoit.
“Howdoyouknowmycode?”Ifrowned.
“HadtowritedownyourbirthdatesixhundredtimeswhenIfilledinthepaperworklastnight.Youseemlikethepredictablesort.Again,no—”
“Offense.Iknow.”Hiseyeswerestillonmyphone,histhumbsflyingovermyscreen.“Yourealizeprefacingsomethingwiththesewordsmakesitautomaticallyoffensive,right?”
“Thecodetogettohimissixsixsix.Heonlyrespondstotexts.Sporadically.”
Shocker.
DevonslappedthephoneoverthepileofdocumentsIwasholding.
“Cheers,Persephone.”
“Wait!”Icalledout.“WhataboutColinByrne?CanItellhimI’llhavethemoneyreadyforhim?”
Hestoppedatmythreshold.
“Ah,that’sthebestpartofbecomingaFitzpatrick.”Heopenedhisarms.“Yourproblemsarenolongeryours.IdobelieveColinisSamBrennan’sjurisdiction.Tothatend,I’dsayyou’reallcovered,andthatByrneisthoroughlyandroyallyfuckedforlayingahandonyou.Welcometothefamily,Persy.”
“Whatdoyoumeanyou’rebreakingthepact?”
Sailorspritzedherpinklemonadeacrossthetableandallovermydress,theliquidshootingthroughbothhermouthandnostrils.
Shecoughed,wavingherarmsaround.Aislingdashedtoherrescue,pattingherontheback.Theliquidmust’vegonedownthewrongpipe.
Theunshakablestormknockedonthegreenhousewherewe’dsatdownfordinner,thehailthreateningtoimpaletheglass.Attwenty-five,AislingstilllivedatAveburyCourtManor,herparents’mansion.Shesaiditwasbecausebetweenmedschoolandhercharitywork,shedidn’thavetimetomaintainanapartment,butweallknewshetookcareofherparents,tendedtothemlikeoneoftheirservants,andwasnotlikelytoleavebeforeshegotmarried.
Thegreenhousewaswarmlylitwithanarrayofcolorfulsucculentsstrewneverywhere.
“Sheisnotbreakingthepact.”AshhurriedtohandmenapkinsafterensuringSailorwasokay.“She’sstillmarriedtoPaxton.Shecan’twedanyoneelse.”
IdroppedthebombassoonasIsatdownatthetablebeforeI’devenhadtimetohelpmyselftoaspringroll.
“Iambreakingthepact.”Itookadeepbreath,bracingmyselfforanotherstorm,righthereinthegreenhouse.“I’mgettingmarriedtoCillian.Heisworkingonmydivorcecertificateaswespeak.”
“Cillian-Cillian?”ItwasEmmabelle’sturntochoke,thistimeonacrabrangoon.“Tall,dark,broody.Twolittleredhornspeekingfromeithersideofhishead?Possiblyatailtuckedbetweenthosesteelasscheeks?”Mysistergrabbedadumplingwithherchopsticks,tossingitintohermouth.
“MybrotherCillian?”Ashsupplemented.
“Yes.”Ipressedmyforeheadtomystill-emptyplatewithagroan.“Oneandthesame.”
“Why?”Sailorasked.
“How?”Belledemanded.
“Ishethreateningyou?”Aislingshrieked.
“Look,ifit’saboutmoney,HunterandIwouldbemorethanhappytohelp.”Sailorreachedacrossthetabletodabatmycollar,pretendingtoremovethelemonadestainssheputthere.
“Metoo.Iwouldn’tbeabletolivewithmyselfifIknewyouonlymarriedmybrotherbecauseyouwerestruggling.”Ashputahandonherchestoverherheart.Sheworeacardiganandacheckedlongskirt.Herraven-blackhairwascarefullytiedintoachignon.
Theydidn’tgetit.Anyofit.Therealityofmylife.Mysituation,mycommitments,mymisfortunes…
“Ofcourseshedoesn’twanttomarryhim.”Sailorflungherarmsintheair.“It’sKillFitzpatrickwe’retalkingabout.Hehasn’texactlywonanyMr.Personalityawardsinthelastdecade.”
“Lovechangespeople.Youandmybrotherareprimeexamplesofthat,”Aislingpointedout.
Sailorshookherhead.“Hunterhasalwaysbeengoodandlost.Cillianisbadandknowsexactlywhereandwhatheis.Awolfcanneverbeapet.”
Yourhusbandstarredinasextape,Iwantedtoscream.Whodiedandmadeyouthemoralpolice?
IshotBelleaglance.Shesippedherchardonnay,studyingmeintently.Mysisterwassurprisinglyquiet.Ihalf-expectedhertoblazeoutthedoorstraighttoCillian’shouseandextractmoreinfofromhimatknifepoint.Butno.Shewasjusttakingitallin.Absorbing.
“Look.”Isighed.“Thanksfortheoffers,butI’mgood.I’mmarryinghimbecauseIwantto.Iknowit’ssudden,butKillandIhavegottencloseinthepastfew—”
“Youbetternotfinishthissentence,”Bellewarnedcoldly,drainingherglassofchardonnay.“You’realreadybreakingthepact.Atleasthavethedecencynottolietous.YouandKilldon’tknoweachotherbeyondyoubeinghisbabysister’sfriend.”
“IfCillianaskedyoutomarryhim,it’sforallthewrongreasons.”Sailor’svoicesoftenedasshetriedtochangetactics.“Didhetellyouhedoesn’thaveanyfeelings?Like,atall?Hetakesprideinthat.”
Slurpinganoodlebetweenmylips—myfirstbitethisevening—Inodded.
“IknowwhoKillis.We’vebeenrunninginthesamecirclesforyearsnow.”
“Killdoesn’trunanywhere.”Sailorlaughed.“Heswaggerswithacockygrinandfucksshitup.Justtellmewhatkindofmoneyyouneed,andI’llgetyououtofthis.Forgetaboutaloan.Don’tpaymeback.”
Sheturnedtotheshoulderbaghangingoverherseat,pluckingouthercheckbookandslappingitonthetable.Sheclickedapenandbeganwritingmeacheck
“Formypart,I’llaskAthairforagooddivorcelawyer,”Aislingchimedinbrightly.“Thisistotallyfixable.It’snottoolatetosayno.Wecanmakesureyou’llstillget—”
“Youwantthetruth?”Isnarled,shootinguptomyfeet,shakingwithanger.“Fine,here’sthetruth—I’mnotlikeyouguys.Belleisastreet-smart,man-eatingladybosswhoisouttoconquertheworldandbuildanempire.Aisling,youwerebornintoroyalty.Youhavemoremoneythansomecountries,twobrotherswhowouldkillforyou,andapromisingcareerasadoctor.Sail,youalreadymetyourPrinceCharming,andyouhaveafatherandbrotherwho’dgetyououtofanything.Me…”Ishookmyhead,laughingbitterly.“I’mdifferent.Iwantedtomarryforlove.AndIdid.Sayingitdidn’tworkoutwouldbetheunderstatementofthecentury.Nowit’stimetomarryforcomfort.Itisnotthenobleorhonorablethingtodo.Trustme,I’mwellawareofthat.Butit’smychoice.Ichoosesecurity.Ichoosestability.Iknowheisnotgoingtoloveme,buthewilltakecareofme,andthat’ssomethingPaxtonfailedtodo.IfIcanlivewithit,thensocanyou.”
Atensesilencestretchedbetweenus.TheonlysoundaudiblewasSailor’shardswallow.
“I’mbreakingthepact,”Iwhispered,thelieburningonmytongue.Iwasmarryingforlove.Itjusthappenedtobetragicallyunrequited.“Andthere’snothingyoucandoaboutit.”
Eightyearsago,SailordraggedallofustoacharityballHunterhadinvitedherto.Init,wesawagirlwhowenttoourhighschoolhangingonthearmofamanthirtyyearshersenior.Shelookedboredandsadandlostandrich.Abeautiful,emptyurnwherehopes,dreams,andambitiononceresided.Watchingherexpressionalonesuckedthelifeoutoftheparty.Wepromisedeachotherwewouldneverletoneanothermarryanyoneforanythingotherthanlove.
“Listen,Ihaveoptions.Ido.”Igrabbedmybagandcoat.“IchoosetobewithCillian.Hemaynotgivemelove,buthe’llgivemeeverythingelseI’mlookingfor.I’llbeabletostartthefamilyI’vealwayswanted,havekids.Aplacetocallmyown…”Itrailedoff.“AllI’maskingisforyoutosupportthis.It’scrazy,andinsane,andunconventional,butitisstillmychoice.”
Aislingdroppedherheadintoherhands.
SailorlookedtheotherwayasifI’dslappedher.
Bellewastheonlyonewhostood,pickedupherownbag,andtookmyhandinhers.
“Welp.Ifyouexcuseme,Ihavetogoscreamatmysister,haveamentalbreakdown,thenacceptherdecision.Seeyoulater,ladies.”
BelleandIendedupheadinghome,takingaraincheckondinner.
Themoodhadsoured,andnoonewashungryanymore.
AshsaidshewouldalwaysbethereformeifIchangedmymind,andSailorthreatenedtoshootKillwithherbowandarrowandpinhimtoawalllikeabutterflyifhescrewedup,somethingweallknewshewascapableof,seeingasshewasanarcher.
Tenminutesintoourridebackhome,Ifinallybrokethesilence.
“Howcomeyoudidn’tfreakout?”Istaredoutthewindow,watchingtheice-crustedbuildingszippingby.Bellesignaledontoasidestreet.
“Sorry,wereyouexpectingawholeproduction?”
“Expected?No.Predicted?Yes.”
Shelaughed.“I’mnotWillyWonka.Idon’tsugarcoatstuff,sis.YouknowhowIfeelaboutKillFitzpatrick,butyou’renotababyanymore.Youcanmakeyourowndecisions,evenifIthinkthosedecisionsshouldlandyouinapsychiatricward.”
“Thatneverstoppedyoufrombeingsuperprotectiveofmebefore.”
Wait,wasImadatmysisterfornotmakingascene?No.OfcourseIwasn’t.Thatwouldberidiculous.Thenagain,Iwasabitridiculous.Anditwasn’tinBelle’snaturenottoraisehellwhentheopportunitypresenteditself.Plus,shewasn’texactlyCillian’snumberonefan
Infact,ifCilliandidhaveafanclub,shewouldprobablyburntheplacedown.
Anddanceonitsashes.
AndthenpostaboutitonInstagram.
(Tohergrid,notstories.That’showcommittedshewastodespisinghim.)
“I’llalwayshaveyourback.Buthonestly?I’mhalf-soldontheidea.Paxtonleftyoupennilessandheartbroken.Iwatchedyousufferthroughthepasteightmonths,tryingtoholdyourheadup.Ifyouwanttoswitchtacticsandmarryawealthymanwhowillprovideforyou,I’llbethelastonetojudgeyouforit.Ultimately,weallmakechoicestothebestofourabilities.”
Shepaused,gnawingonherlowerlip.“There’salsosomethingelse.”
Iturnedtolookather,ungluingmyeyesfromthewindow.
“Iknowyou’veneversaidanything,butIalwayskindofknewyouhadathingforKill.Itwasinyoureyeswhenheenteredaroom.Theychanged.Theyglittered,”shewhispered.“It’snevertoolatetochangethenameoftheprinceinyourstory.Justaslongasyoudon’tendupwiththevillain.”
“Hecan’tbethevillain.”Ishookmyhead.“He’salreadysavedme.”
“Youknowhecan’tlove?”sheaskedquietly.
“Loveisaluxurynoteveryonecanafford.”
“Well,ifanyonecanmovemountains,it’syou,sis.”
Sheremovedonehandfromthesteeringwheel,squeezingmyknee.
IwonderedhowmuchBelleknewaboutmysituation.Devonwasright.Ididn’tlooklikethekindofwomantogetbrutallymugged.WhileBelletookcareofmywoundsandfussedovereachscratchthedayafterKaminskibeatmeup,sheheldbackonherusualSpanishinquisitionanddidn’tnagmewhenIsaidIdidn’twanttofileapolicereport.
Therewasanoceanofliesandsecretsbetweenmysisterandme,andIwantedtoswimashore,fallatherfeet,andtellhereverything.
AboutPax.Abouttheloansharks.AboutAuntieTilda’sCloudWish.
ButIcouldn’t.Icouldn’tropeherintomymess.Itwasminetofix.
“You’renotthena?velittledamseleveryonethinksyouare.”Bellekilledtheengine,andIrealizedwewereparkedoutsideherbuilding.“Youhavenailsandteeth,andaspinetogowiththem.Persephonewasn’tonlyafloralmaiden.Shewasalsothequeenofdeath.Yourgroom’sinforarudeawakening.Butknowthis—ifKillevertriestoplayHades,I’ddescendtotheunderworldmyselftoriphisballsoff.”“Allthere?”Byrnesniffed.Hepeeredintotheopenblackduffelbag.Kaminskistoodbehindhim,armscrossedoverhischest,watchinguslikeTheMountain,QueenCersei’skillerguard.
“Countit,”Samordered,spittinghiscigaretteonthefloor.
Byrnebegantosiftthroughthemoney,whichwasbondedinhundred-dollarnotes.Hispostureeasedforthefirsttimesincewewalkedintohishouse.Wewereinhisoffice,deliveringourpartofthebargain.Byrnehadinsistedwecometohisplace,probablybecausehisofficehadmoreweaponsinitthanatacticalshop.
“Kam.”Byrnesnappedhisfingersashecounted,separatingthenotesbylickinghisfingers.Hissoldierleanedforward.Byrneusedtheopportunitytosmackthebackofhisassistant’shead.
“Countwithme,youuselesssackofmeat.”
Ittookthemtwentyminutesbeforetheyweresatisfiedallthemoneywasthere.Theyzippedthebag,Byrnesmilingatuspolitely.
“I’mpleasedtosaywehavenooutstandingdebtsbetweenus,gentlemen.Thankyouforyourbusiness.”
Samnodded,stood,andturnedaround.Ifollowedsuit.Wereachedthedoor.Insteadofopeningit,Samturnedthelockonthedoor,thesoftclicksignalingweweren’tdoneafterall.
“Actually,”Brennanhissed,“wedohaveoneoutstandingmattertoresolve.”
Webothputonourleathergloves.
“Whatwouldthatbe?”Byrnegulped.
Samsmiledmanically.“Yourfuckingbones.”
Anhourlater,IfinallyfeltIwasgettingmymoney’sworth.
“CanItellyoualittlesecret?”Sam’slitcigarettehungfromhislipsashetiedathoroughlybeatenupColinByrnetohisownbed,cuffinghimtotherails,tugginghard.“I’vealwayshadaweaknessfornumbers.Don’tknowwhatitisaboutthem,Byrne,buttheycalmmedown.Theymakesense.Mysonofabitchspermdonorwasgoodatnothingbutnumbers.GuessIgottheknackfromhim.”
“Please,”Byrnesputtered,teethchattering,chestcaving.“Ialreadytoldyou,Ididn’tknowshewasunderyourprotection.Ihadnoidea,man—”
“Stopbegging,unlessyouwantmetocutyouanicesmiletoremindyouhowcheerfulyouwerewhenyoupaidheryourweeklyvisits.”SamdumpedatoweloverByrne’shead.Theheavyfabricmuffledhisdesperatepleas.“Now,here’swhatthismathenthusiastwantstoknow.Whywouldaloansharkinflatehisinterestbytwohundredpercentwhenthemarketstandardisfifty?IsitpossibleyoutookadvantageofthelovelycreaturePaxtonVeitchhadleftbehindanddecidedtowhoreherout,knowingshecouldmakeyouafastbuck?”
BeforeByrnecouldanswer,Samgrabbedabucketofwaterandslowlypoureditscontentsoverhisface,waterboardinghim.
Bracingthetopofthedoorframewithbothhands,IwatchedBrennanhandlingByrnewhilehisassistant,Kaminski,hungbyhisarmsfromahookintheceilingwherethechandelierhadbeen.Kaminskilookedlikeaskinnedpigwithhisheadcoveredinaburlapsack.
Samdroppedtheemptybucket,tippingthecigaretteashonByrne’sbarestomach.HeremovedthetowelfromByrne’shead,whotookagreedygulpofair.
“Veitchwantedtowhoreouthiswifeallbyhimselfbeforehefuckedoff!”Byrnecoughed,desperatelytryingtounchainhimselffromthebedrails.“Hewantedtokidnapherandgivehertome.Itoldhimnottobother.ThatIdidn’twanttheFBIonmytail.Humantraffickingwillgetyouashit-tonofjailtime.Ievengavethebitchextratimetopaymeback.”
Samtsked,turninghisheadinmydirection.“AreyouthinkingwhatI’mthinking?”
“We’redealingwithapatronsaint,”Ideadpanned,strollingintotheroom.I’daskedSamtoallowmetobepresentduringthisjobeventhoughIknewbetterthantoaccompanyhimtoanyoftheothererrandsheusuallyranforme.Thisfeltpersonal.NotbecauseIhadanyfeelingstowardmyfuturewife,butbecauseKaminskiandByrnehaddefacedmyproperty,andforthat,theyneededtopay
Sweat,blood,andtearsweremypreferredcurrency.
Grabbingafirepokerhangingbythemantel,Ibroughtthetiptothedancingflamesinthefireplace,heatingitupbeforeswingingitinmyhandlikeagolfclubasIapproachedKaminski.
“Ijustcan’thelpbutthinkthat,despiteyourdevoutintentions,youcouldhavedonewithoutbeatingtheshitoutofthepoorgirl.”SamdumpedthetowelbackonByrne’sfaceandemptiedanotherbucketofwateronit.Brennanwasdefinitelyinhiselement.Hewasinthebusinessofinflictingpain.
Kaminskiwhimperedatthesoundsintheroom,danglingfromtheceiling.
“ItwasKaminski!”Byrnegurgledthroughthetowel.“Hedidit!Itoldhimtothreatenher,maybeslapheraround,butnomore.Hewastheonewhohurther!”
“Where’dyouhurther,Kaminski?”Iaskedthehangingmaninfrontofme,myeyesleveledwithhisstomach.Heflinched,realizinghowcloseIwas.Neithermanwasgoingtoratmeout.CrossingSamBrennanwassomethingveryfewpeopleinBostondid,andthosewhowerestupidtogothatroutedidn’tlivetotellthetale.EvenifByrneandhisbrawnyassistantdidruntheirmouthstothefeds,IhadhalfthejudgesinBostoninmypocket.
“I…I…”
“Hereye?”Iaskedserenely.“Why,yes.Idoremembermyfiancéesportinganastyblackshiner.”
Iswungthepokertohisface,crashingitabovehisnose.Thehotmetalhissedagainsttheburlapfabric,meltingitintohisskin.Heletoutacarnalsnarl,twistingviolentlylikeawormonahook.
“Ialsorememberyougothercheek.”Istruckhischeekbladethroughthesack.“Herbrow.”
Smack!
“Theribs.”
Smack!
“Herknees,too.”
Smack!Smack!Smack!
IbeatKaminskiwhileSamdrownedByrneinhisownbed.Tenminuteslater,whenbothF-grademobsterswerebarelyconscious,Samthrewinthetowel.Literally.Onthefloor.IwipedthetipofthepokeronKaminski’spants,thenreturnedthesticktoitsplace.
“Keepthemoney.”Samstubbedthecigarettebutthethrewonthefloorwithhisbootonhiswayout.
“Anddon’tevergonearmyfuturewifeagain.”Itwasmyturntoaddresstheroom.Theairwasheavilyperfumedwithsweat,blood,andviolence.ItuggedmyleatherglovesasIlookedaround.“IfIhearyousomuchasbreathedinherdirection,therewillbehelltopay.Infact,I’llbecheckingintoseeyoukeepyourdistancefromher.IfIfindyouinherzipcode…”Itrailedoff.
Ididn’tneedtofinishthesentence.
Theyknew.
Anhourlater,wewereatalocalIrishpubdowntheroadfromColinByrne’sapartment.
“RedRightHand”byNickCaveandtheBadSeedsricochetedthroughthepaneling.Samflirtedwiththetwobustywaitresses,helpingoneofthemfilloutataxdocument.
Notforthefirsttime,itoccurredtomethatBrennanwasdefinitelyonthespectrumofsociopathy.I’dbeensmarttokeephimawayfrommysister.I,too,reservedaspotonthatscalebutsomewhereinthemiddle.
ButPersephonewasnotmysister.Ihadzeroobligationtosaveherfrommyself.
Atanyrate,myplanwastoavoidheratallcostsassoonasshewaswithchild.Sooner,ifIcouldhelpit.Shehadnoroominmyday-to-daylife.
Hurtingthemenwhohurtherleftmeoddlysatisfied.Peculiar,seeingasgettingahard-onfromviolencewasmoreofSam’sthing.
“What’scrawledupyourass?”SameyedmeovertherimofhisGuinnesspint,poeticasalways.
“Justthinking.”Isprawledbackintheoldwoodenbooth,scanningthemixedbagcrowdofyoungprofessionalsandblue-collarworkers.
“Myleastfavoritepastime.”Sampalmedahandfulofsaltedwasabipeas,throwingthemintohismouth.“Whatabout?”
“Marriage.”
“Morespecifically?”
“Theinconvenientnecessityofit.Whatareyouwaitingfor?”
SamthumpedhisredMarlboropackonthetable.Onecigaretteslidupobediently.Heraisedthepackandcaughtthecigarettebetweenhisteeth.
“Nothing.”Helitup.Samwasnotoriousforbreakingcitycouncilrules.Smokinginsiderestaurantswasamongtheleastoffensivethingshedid.“Ihavenoplanstogetmarried.It’sasurprisinglyeasydecisiontomakewhenyouhavenodutytocontinuealineageandyourbiologicalparentsareaback-stabbingassholewhodeservedtodieandawhorewholeftyouonherex-boyfriend’sdoorstepwhenyouwereoldenoughtoknowwhatitmeanttobeabandoned.”
“Who’llinheriteverythingyouown?”Iasked.SamBrennanwasrollinginit.Ididn’tknowexactlyhowwealthyhewas.HeprobablydeclarednomorethanfifteenpercentofhisincometotheIRS,butIwouldguesshewasinthedouble-digitmillionsclub.
Samshrugged.“Sailor.Herkids,maybe.Moneymeansnothingtome.”
Ibelievedhim.
“ButyougrewupwithTroyandSparrowBrennan,”Ipushed,knowingnothingwasgoingtocomeoutofthisconversation.Themanwascagierthanazoo.“Boston’sgoldencouple.”
“HanSoloandLeiaOrganaonsteroids.”SamtookaswigofhisGuinness,smirkingbitterly.“Butthatmeansjack-shit.IhaveneitherSparrow’sDNAnorTroy’s.I’manorphan.Anelaboratedmistakebornfromvengeance.Ihavenoplansofreproducing.Besides,whatgoodwoulditbetohaveachild,knowingIcouldgetlockedupforlifeanyday?”
Hehadapoint.
“Now”—hetiltedhispintinmydirection—“backtobusiness.Byrneandhispuppetareoutofthepictureforgood.ThenextstepistofindVeitch.Seewherehe’shiding.Whathe’sdoing.Puthimonaleash.MaybebringhimbackandthrowhimintoByrne’sclaws.Killtwobirdswithonestone.”
“Leavehim.”Iwavedhimoff.“Byrneispaid.Kaminskiwillbeinawheelchairforlife.Veitchisprobablydead.It’sdone.”
“Dead?Idon’tthinkso.IbetyouVeitchisalive,andthatassoonashehearshiswifegothitchedtoabillionaire,he’llbeback,makingdemands.”
“Notpossible,”Iinsisted.“Thedivorcecertificateshouldarrivetomorrowmorning.Hewouldn’tbeeligibleforapenny.Idon’tneedtoknowwhereVeitchisorwhathe’supto.”
“HecancontactPersephoneandplayonherheartstrings.He’sherhusband.”
“Was.”
“Shechosehim.”
“Shechosewrong,”Iretorted.
“Ifanyone’spronetotakemercyontheassholewholeftherbehind,it’syourfuturewife,”Samwarned.
Icrackedmyfingersunderthetable.“Precisely.Betterknockherupbeforesherunsoffwithherex.”
Ididn’twantafugitivebride.Ididn’ttrustPersephonenottoruninslowmotionintoherex-husband’sarmsandbreakourcontracttheminuteIdraggedhimbackfromthehellholewherehe’dbeenhiding.Besides,themoretimethatpassedwithouthimknowingaboutme,themorechanceIhadtoknockPersephoneupwithouthisinterruptions.
Samexaminedmecoolly.
“It’sanunfinishedjob,”hecautioned.“Idon’tdothose,Fitzpatrick.”
“You’lldowhateverItellyoutodoforyoursalary,Brennan.”Igrabbedmywhiskey,tossingitbackandslammingtheglassonthetable.“AndI’mtellingyoutoforgetPaxtonVeitcheverexisted.”
“Themediaisalloverthisshitlikeahookeronasenator.”Huntertookasipofhiscoffee,blowingachef’skiss.Hesatinfrontofmeinmyoffice.
“Can’tblamethem.Thebridelookslikeproperroyalty.AmodernCinderella.”DevonskimmedthroughthepressreleasehewasreadingonhisiPad,perchednexttomybrother.
IsnatchedtheiPadfromhishand,takingalook.Ididn’tknowhowthisDianachickfromPRhadgottenherhandsonthispictureofPersephone—cladinapowderbluedress,hergoldenhaircascadingdowntohernarrowwaist,herpinklipspuckeredwithafaintsmile—butshewasinforonehellofaChristmasbonus.
RoyalPipelinesdidagoodjobannouncingmynuptialstoBoston’ssweetheart:apreschoolteacher,achurchgoer,andawomanofgoodfaith,pedigree,andmorals.
“Persy’shotterthanaCarolinaReaper.”Huntertappedhislips,monitoringmyreactiontothedivinecreatureIwasabouttomarry.“You’vedonewell.”
“She’sdonebetter.”IhandedDevontheiPadback.“Herbeautywillfade.MyForbesstatuswillnot.”
Persephonehadbeentextingmenonstopforthepasttwoweekssincewebrokethenewstoourfriendsandfamily.Apparently,itwasnotenoughtodumpabudgetmorefittingtofeedamedium-sizedstateinherhandsandaskhertoplanthewedding.Shewantedtotalkaboutthings.
WhatvenueIfavored.
WhichflowersIliked.
IfIhadanyrecommendationsforareputablecateringcompany.
Ididn’thavethehearttotellherIdidn’tcareifwemarriedatthecityhall,achurch,orinaditch.That,infact,Ididn’thaveaheartatall.SoIoptedforignoringallhermessages.Thestrategyworkedwell.Ifullyintendedtoadoptitafterourwedding.
“Stillcan’tbelievesheagreedtowedyourass.IfIdidn’tseehersayingsheacceptedyourofferwithmyowneyes,I’dthinkyoushanghaiedher.”Hunterrubbedhisknucklesoverhischeekbones.Heandhiswifehandledthenewsasthoughwe’djusttoldthemoneofuswasdying.Myparents,however,nearlypissedtheirpants.Iwisheditwereafigureofspeech.
Motherburstintotears,andAthairgiftedmeanentiredrawerofvintagewatches.
Iwasbacktobeingmoòrga
Golden,brazen,andcunning.Alwayssixstepsaheadofthegame.
Myfatherwasspecified,andmyCEOpositionwassaved.Atleastonthatfront.HellknewwhatArrowsmithhadinstoreforme.
“Idon’tgiveatosswhatmadehersayyes.AllIcareisthatshedid.Weneededthatwin.EspeciallywithAndrewArrowsmithbackintown.”DevontuckedhisiPadbackintoitsleathercase,glancingatmecuriously.
Icurvedaneyebrow.
Ididn’ttellDevonAndrewwasback.IdidnotwantanyonemakingthemistakeofthinkingIcared.Plus,Ipaidpeopleenoughtokeeptrackofwhatwashappeningaroundme.
“He’sthenewCEOofGreenLiving,”Devonfilledmein.WhenherealizedIwasn’tsurprised,hefrowned.“Bollocks.Butyoualreadyknewthat.Whenwereyougoingtotellme?”
“Iwasn’t.It’syourjobtokeepyourselfinformed.I’mnotyoursecretary.”
“Couldhavefooledme.You’dlookravishinginapencilskirt.”Huntersnappedhisjawinabitingmotion,contributingabsolutelynothingtotheconversation,asperusual.
“Andrewspentthemorninghoppingfromonemorningshowtotheother,”Devonpointedout.“He’scookingsomethingup.”
“Nodoubt,”Iagreed.
“IsSamonthecase?”Hunterasked.MybabybrotherhadnoideawhoArrowsmithwasorwhathistoryweshared.ButlikeallFitzpatricks,hecouldsmelltroublefrommilesawayandhadthenatural-bornkillerinstincttosquashit.
“Notyet.”Iglancedatmywatch.“Iwanthimtomakethefirstmove.Seewhathe’sgotbeforeIdestroyhim.”
MyPAknockedonthedoor.Sheenteredgingerly,wearingahotpinkblazeroverwhatlookedlikeabra,herplatinumhairreachinghercalves.
“Mr.Fitzpatrick?”
“Ms.Brandt.IsitHalloween?”
Sheslopedherheadinconfusion.“No.”
“Thendon’tdresslikeit.Whatdoyouwant?”Ilacedmyfingerstogether.
Sheblushed,clearingherthroat.IhadtoadmitPersephonehadapoint.CaseylookedlikeacorporatesecretarylikeIlookedlikeaOneDirectiondropout.
“Sorrytointerrupt,it’sjustthatyouhaven’tansweredmylastsixemailsregardingtheengagementandweddingrings.”
Therings.
Ihadtochooseweddingandengagementrings.Naturally,Ihadmorepressingissuestodealwith,suchasAndrewArrowsmithandfindinganewedgelesspoolformyPalmSpringproperty.
Ispearedmybrotherwithaglare.
“Whatkindofdiamondsdoesshelike?”
“HowthefuckshouldIknow?”Hunterlaughed.“Ihangoutwiththechick.Idon’tchoosepantyhoseandearringswithheratBloomingdale’s.”
“Askyourwife.”
“Askyourfiancée,”hecountered,kickingmyshinunderthedesk.
“Thatwouldrequiremetotalktoher.”Ipressedmyfootoverhis,applyingenoughforcetohearhistoescrack.“Ihavenodesiretodothat.”
HunterstaredatmelikeIwasclinicallyinsane.
“HowamIsupposedtoanswersomethinglikethat?”HeturnedtoDevon,wavingahandinmydirection.“Ican’tbelievehe’smarryingmywife’sbestfriend.What’sgonnahappenifIhavetomurderhim?Willrepresentingmebeaconflictofinterestforyou?”
“Yes,”Devonsaidsimply,smoothinghistie.“Regardless,Idon’tpracticecriminallaw.Don’tliketogetmyhandsdirty.MayImakeasuggestion?”
“No,”Isaid,atthesametimeHuntercrowed,“FortheloveofGod,pleasedo.”
“Gowiththemostexpensiveoption,”Devoninstructed.“Theanswertoeveryquestionconcerningawoman’stasteinjewelryistogowiththeexpensiveoption.WorkslikeacharmeveryChristmas.”Hesnappedhisfingers.
“NotwithPersephone.”Huntershookhishead.“She’spickyandparticular.BothPenrosesistershavestrongpersonalities.That’swhytheygetalongwithmywife.”
Hesaidthatlikeitwasagoodthing.Christ.
Caseywasshiftingherweightfromoneimpossiblestilettoheeltotheother,glancingamongthethreeofus,waitingforananswer.
Decidingwe’dspentenoughtimeponderingthematter,Isealedthedeal.
“Getallofthem.”
“Sorry,sir?”
“Theringsthejewelerhassent.Getherallofthem.Shecanchoose,alternate,giftsometoherannoyingfriends,donatetocharity,wipeherasswiththem.Idon’tcare.”
“YoumeanbuyheralleightringsthejewelerhasflownherefromMumbaiovernight?”Sheblinked,staringatmeasthoughIgrewanextraheadandattemptedtocoveritwithadecorativefruitbowl.“Theycosthalfamillionapiece.”
“And…?”Iscrewedmyfingersintomyeyesockets.Peoplingwasbyfarmoreexhaustingthanrunningamarathon.
“Andnothing.Itwillbedone,sir.”
WithStripperBarbieoutoftheway,Iturnedbacktomybrotherandlawyer,readytocontinueourconversationaboutArrowsmith.TheybothglaredatmewithalooknotmuchdifferentthantheoneIsawonMs.Brandt’sface.
“Whatnow?”Ibarked.
“Youcould’vejustgonewithanyring,”Devonmuttered.“Yetyouchoseallofthem.”
Allandnothingwerethesamethings.Essentially,Istilldidn’tmakeachoice.
“What’syourpoint?”Idemanded.
“Hispoint”—Huntergrinned,snatchinghiscoffeefrommydeskandstanding—“isthatyou,mydearbrother,areabouttogetpunchedrightinthefeels.Bubble-wrapthatblackheartofyoursbecauseshit’sabouttogetreal,andI’mgoingtograbafront-rowseatwhenyoufinallyrealizeyouarenotthesoullessbastardyouthinkyouare.”
“Savemeaplacenexttoyou.”Devonfist-bumpedmybrother.
Ikickedthembothout.
Idiots.AfteramonthofbeingignoredbythegroomeverytimeIcalledandtextedhim,IshoweduptomyweddingtuckedinablacklimowithBelleandSailorintow.
Itwasasurprisinglysunnyday.Especiallyconsideringwinterbledintospring,andthepersistentrainrefusedtorelentinwhatthelocalweathermendescribedasBoston’slongestandgloomiestwintertodate.
SinceIwastheonedoingalltheplanning,Imadesuretheweddingwastailoredtomypersonalityandpreferencesalone.
DespitethefactAislinghadtoldmeCillianhatedfruitinhisdessert,thecakewasasix-tierchiffonspongecakefrostedwithwhitechocolateanddecoratedwithpomegranate.ThevenuewasSt.Luke’s,theProtestantchurchI’dattendedsincebirtheventhoughIknewCillianwasraisedIrishCatholic.
Iworeasheath,pearl-huedgownandhadenoughhairspraytoputadentintheozonelayer.Ifeltridiculouslyflammableandgavemyselfamentalmemonottogetclosetosmokersandcandles.
WiththeclearintentiontosignalmyfuturehusbandIwasnottobetamed,Ichosewildflowersformybouquet.
Idecidedonhavingachurchserviceonly.Noparty.Nobighurrah.MyfeelingstowardKillwereasstrongasever,butIwasn’tgoingtodoalltheworkforhim.Ifhewantedasuccessfulmarriage—whichIdoubtedhedid—hewasgoingtohavetoputintheeffort,too.
ApartofmedoubtedCillianwouldevenshowuptothewedding.Afterall,hewentbacktoignoringmyexistencequicklyafterIacceptedhisoffer.Ifitweren’tforDevon,ortherealtors,bankers,jewelers,andpersonalshoppershesentmyway,fawningoverme,I’dthinkhe’dgottencoldfeet.
Should’veknownbetter.
CillianFitzpatricknevergotcoldfeet.
Itwaseverythingelseabouthimthatwasmadeofice.
Isatinthelimoinfrontofthechurch.MomandDadcamefromthesuburbs.Theyweredisorientedbymyshotgunweddingbuthappy,nonetheless.TheyknewhowhurtI’dbeenoverPaxtonandfiguredIdecidedtomarrymygoodfriendAisling’solderbrotherbecausewe’dalwayshadthisamazing,nurturingconnection.
ThatwasthestoryIfedthem,anyway,andthatwastheversiontheychosetoeatup.Dad,whohadjustrecoveredfromakneesurgery,couldn’twalkmedowntheaisle.
I’dfoundittobeanomenmorethanacoincidence.I’daskedHuntertodothehonorofgivingmeaway(“Personally,I’dprefertohandyouovertoVladtheImpaler,butI’mtooscaredformylifetodenyKillanything”).
“Knock,knock.”Ash’sthin,churchbellsvoicerangintheair.Sheflungthedoortothelimoopenandslidin,wearingablood-redbridesmaiddress.
“Hey.”Imusteredasmile,realizingIwasclutchingBelle’shandinmineabittootightly.Iletgobeforemysister’shandneededamputatedduetogangrene.
Ashhandedmeacrownofwildflowers.
“Agoodluckcharmforthebride.AFitzpatricktradition.”
“IsthisfromKill?”Myeyebrowsshotup.Ithoughtaboutthepoisonousflowershe’dpluckedfrommyhairallthoseyearsago.Ashshookherhead,turningashadeofmaroonthatwentwellwithherdress.
“Mybad.Ishould’veclarified.Imadeitforyou.It’sanIrishcustomthatthebridebraidsthecrowninherhaironherown.Bringsgoodlucktothemarriage.”
“Myhairisharderthanarockrightnow,”Ipointedout.
“Isthisbitchforreal?”BellesnatchedthefloweredtiarafromAisling’shands.“Sis,youneedalltheluckyoucanget.You’reputtingthisthingonifit’sthelastthingyoudo.Andwhileyou’reatit,here.”Belledroppedthetiarainmylap,rummaginginherclutch.Shefoundanorangebottleofpills,tookone,andshoveditintomymouth.
“What’sthat?”Imurmuredaroundthetablet.
“Alittlepick-me-up.”
Iswallowed,weavingwispsofmyhairintothecrownofflowerswhileBelleputaglassofchampagnetomylips.
“Thechurchisjam-packed.Allthepewsarefilledtothebrim.”Aislingcrawledintothebackseataswewaitedfortheeventcoordinatortocallusout.“SamlockedthechurchdoorsonKill,anotherIrishtraditiontomakesurethegroomdoesn’trunaway,andHunterslippedasixpenceintohisshoes.Killwasn’thappy.”
“Whenisheever?”Sailorsassed,makingthethreeofthemburstintolaughter.
Iglancedoutthewindowupatthesky.Therewasonlyonelonelycloud.
AuntieTilda.
Igrinned.Mylateauntworkedinmysteriousways,butshecouldn’tpassupcomingheretoday.
“Ican’tbelieveI’mgettingmarriedagain,”Iwhisperedtohermorethantoanyoneelse.
“It’snottoolatetochangeyourmind,”Sailorremindedme.“Really.AskanyJuliaRobertsmovieoutthere.”
“Cutitout,”Bellewarnedourredheadedfriend.“We’regoingtogivetheassholethebenefitofthedoubt,atleastfortoday.”
“You’reright.”Sailorrubbedathernose.“Sorry,Pers.”
Theeventcoordinatorshovedherheadpastouropenwindow.
“We’reallset.MyGod,youlooklikeamoviestar,Persephone.Hunteriswaitingforyoubythechurch’sdoors.Heisthepersongivingyouaway,correct?”
“Actually,”Bellepiped,lacingherarminmine,“we’reallgoingtogiveheraway.”
“Reluctantly.”Sailorlaughed.
AndsoIwalkeddowntheaislewithaherdofmyfriendsandfamily,feelingloved,cherished,andprotected.
JustnotbythemanIwasmarrying.
Afterweeksofnotseeinghim,hispresencehitmelikeawreckingball.
EverythingaboutCillianstandinginafulltuxinfrontofaministerremindedmewhyI’dbeenpatheticallyobsessedwithhimbeforePaxton.
WhygivinghimuphadbeenthehardestthingIhadtodo.
Hewastall,dark,andcommanding,drippinguntamedpowerandmagnetismmoneycouldn’tbuy.HestareddirectlyatmeasIwalkeddowntheaisle,clutchingmybouquetinadeathgrip.Alivebandbeganplaying“ArrivaloftheQueenofSheba”byHandel.Theguestsstood,whisperingandmurmuring.Aislingwasright.Therewerehundredsofpeopleinthisplace,andmostofthem,Ididn’tknow.
Thatwaswhenithitme.
Cilliandidn’tignorethewedding.
Hesimplyignoredme
Hesentoutinvitationspromotingtheideaofhimbeingafamilyman.
Bastardevenchoseasongformetowalktothechapel.
Inotherwords,hewasinvolvedinallthepartsthatmatteredtohim,andIwasn’toneofthem.
Myheartjackhammered,andmymouthdriedaroundtherichtangofchampagne.
Myeyesflickedtohisgolden-speckedones.Helookedcalm,serene,utterlyunaffected.
“Didhetellyouhedoesn’thaveanyfeelings?Hetakesprideinthat.”
Sailor’svoicedriftedbackintomymemory.
Hedid.Multipletimes.
Still,Iwantedtowhackhimwithmybouquetandyellathimtofeelsomethingwhileswearinghisalliancetome.
Istoppedinfrontofhim,certaintheimprintofmyheartcouldbeseenthroughmydresseverytimeitslammedagainstmyribcage.
MinisterSmithbegantheceremony.MyeyesdroppedtoKill’slips,whichwerepursedinmilddispleasure.
Thoselipsweregoingtomeetmineinafewmomentsforthefirsttime.
Adreamcometrueforeighteen-year-oldPersy.
Atravestyfortwenty-six-year-oldme.
MinisterSmithfinishedhispart,thenpaused,clearinghisthroat.
“Beforeweproceed,thegroomhasafewwordshewantstosay.”
Hedoes?
NeverhadIwantedtothrowupmorethanthemomentKillFitzpatrickgazeddownatmewithaneasysmile,producingadove-whiteribbonfromhisbreastpocket.
“Loveisafickleemotion,Persephonemydear.Fortuitous,unreliable,andpronetochanges.Peoplefallinandoutofloveatthedropofahat.Theygetdivorced.Theycheat.Theygetcheatedon.”
Myeyesbuggedoutoftheirsockets.Wasmysoon-to-behusbandawarehewasstandinginachurch?Ihalf-expectedhimtoburstintoflamesinfrontofmyeyes,swirlingintodarksmoke,descendingstraighttohellwherehebelonged.
Killbeganfasteningtheribbonoverbothourrighthandswithconfidentexpertise.
“Thethingis,youcan’trelyonlove.WhichiswhyIintendtoofferyousomethingfarmoreconsistent.Commitment,friendship,andloyalty.Ipromisetogiveyoumyprotection,nomattertheprice.”Heproceededtotieourlefthandstogetherwiththesameribbon,lockingustooneanothertightly.Hiswordssoundedgenuineyetreticent.Dry,butsomehowreal.“Iwillneverturnmybackonus.Wewillfallinandoutoflovemanytimes,butIpromisetofindmywaybacktoyou.Toputusbacktogetherevenwhenthetemptationtobreakthingsoffistoomuch.Andwhenlovefeelsfaraway…”Hepressedhisforeheadtomine,hislipsmovingovermine.“Iwillbringitrightbacktoourdoorstep.”
Ourhandswerefirmlytiedtogether.Westaredateachother.
Tooclose.
Toointimate.
Tooexposed.
Ourguestsstared,wide-eyed,inshockandawe.Mymouthhungopen,amixtureoffascination,surprise,andmostdangerousofall—sheerblissswirledinmychest.
“Thisis…beautiful.”Thereverendletoutabreath.Wesaidourvows.Ididn’tpuke,despitewantingto,bad.“Ipronounceyouhusbandandwife.Youmaynowkissthebride.Godknowsyouwantto.”Hechuckled,makingeveryoneinthechurcheruptinwildlaugher.
Cilliantuggedmeusingourbandagedhands,jerkingmeintohisfirmbody.Hediveddownwitheyesthatturnedfromcalm,richgoldtosmoldering,moltenlava.Mybreathcaughtinthebackofmythroatashecrushedhislipsoverminewithdevastatingwarmth,bringingourhandstohischestandlacingourfingerstogether.Hislipswerepossessive,demanding;hisalmost-familiarfragranceofdrycedarandshavedwoodmademykneesweak.
“Kissmeback,”hegrowled.
Hepulledourtiedwrists,rightingmebackuptomyfeet.Islidlimplyoverhisbody,toodazedtofunction.Killdeepenedourkiss,devouringme,openinghismouthandconnectinghistonguewithmine.Itwasdeliberatelyrough,andheated,andsexy,andnew.I’dneverbeenkissedthiswaybefore.Theclaps,whistles,andcheersdrownedunderthewhite-hotdesirewashingoverme.Iforgotwherewewereandwhatweweredoing.AllIcaredaboutwasthedemandingpressurefromhisdeliciousmouth,andthewayourheartsriotedinunison,beatingwildlyagainstoneanother.
Ifelthissmileonmylipsashewithdrewslowly.Calculatingly.Iblinked,stilldruggedfromtheunexpectedkissthatscreamedthingsIdidn’tdarewhisper.ButwhenIlookedup,hewasthesamecoldanddetachedmonster.
Icy,poker-faced,andcompletelyoutofreach.
Iglancedunsurelyatthepews.
Theentirebackrowwasfullofphotographers,journalists,andcameramen,recordingthetendermomentweshared.
Thespeech.
Thehand-fastening.
Thatkiss
Theyweren’tforme.Theywereforthem.Lies,carefullydesignedtofitKillFitzpatrick’snewnarrative:alovinghusband.Achangedman.Areformedvillain.
Istumbledbackward,twistingmywristsaroundthetightknot,tryingtoescapehim.
“Nownow,”hewhisperedunderhisbreath.“You’renotgoingtogetthefairytale,FlowerGirl,soyoumightaswellsellittootherpeople.Smilebig.”
“You’renotmyPrinceCharming,”Iblurtedout,mythoughtsgoingbacktotheconversationI’dhadwithmysisterinhercarthenightItoldheraboutmyengagement.“You’rethevillain.”
“Fearismygreatestasset.”Hetippedhisheaddown,pretendingtonuzzlemythroat,hishoarse,lowbaritonereverberatingdeepinsideme.“Butwhatarevillains,mydearwife,ifnotmisunderstoodheroes?”
EventhoughIdecidedagainstthrowingaparty,therewasagranddinnerhostedatAveburyCourtManorinhonorofmyshammarriage.
I’dmetJaneandGeraldFitzpatrickcountlessoftimesbefore.I’dbeentotheirmansionpracticallyeveryweekformytakeoutnightwiththegirls.Butsaveforthedinnerinwhichwebrokethenews,thiswasthefirsttimeIwasthereastheireldestson’sbrideandnotthetimid,politefriendoftheirdaughter’s.
Icouldtellbythecourteoussmilesandawkwardnessthattheyknewthiswasn’talovematch.JaneglancedatmealmostapologeticallywhileGeraldkeptcheckingonmeasthoughhewassureIwouldboltoutoftheirhousetheminutetheylookedaway.
MyownparentsweredazzledbytheluxurytheFitzpatrickslivedin.Daddrooledoverthefifteen-cargarage,andIwasprettysureMomwasonthevergeofmakingsweetlovetothekitchentiles.BothwereawestruckbythebutterflygardenGeraldhadcreatedforhiswife,probablytoremindhershewastrappedinthismarriageforever.
Conversationbetweenthefamilieswasstilted.Gerald,mydad,andCilliandidmostofthetalking,fillingtheuncomfortablesilencewithsafetopicssuchastheBostonCeltics,streetfood,andpastlegendaryathletes.Ishovedmyfoodaroundonmyplate,occasionallyansweringaquestionaimedmyway.
BeingignoredbyCillianwhilehewasn’tminewasdevastating.
ButbeingignoredbyhimwhenIwashiswifewasgoingtobesoul-crushing.
Inthepastfewweeks,I’dbeenpamperedbeyondbelief.Hadastylistarriveatmyapartmentwiththreesetsofwardrobes.I’dreceivedanobnoxiousnumberofengagementrings,wasmovingintoabrand-newapartment,andhadmyPaxtonanddebtproblemstakencareof.Butnothing—otherthanhavingByrneandKaminskioffmyback—wasworththesacrificeofmyfreedomtosomeonewhodidn’ttrulywantme.Onlywantedmywombandmyabilitytoraisehischildren.
Whendinnerwasoverandwekissedandhuggedeveryonegoodbye,CillianledmebythesmallofmybacktohisAstonMartin,openingthedoorformewhileeveryonestoodatthedoor,wavinggoodbye.Hewastheimageofaperfectgentleman
Duringthedrive,Ikeptsilent.Iwasn’tsurewhatpissedmeoffmore—thefactheactedlikehecaredinfrontofthecamerasandourfamilies,orthatIwasstupidenoughtobuyit.
Probablythelatter.
“Theweddingwentsmoothly,”Killobserved,hiseyesontheroadasthevehicleskiddedthroughthepastoralneighborhoodsofBackBay.Theeveningfrostbitatmyskin;thesunnyweatherofthemorningwasreplacedwithdarkgloom.
Achillrandownmyspine.HewasmyHades,andIcametohimwillingly.
“I’mgladyouthinkso.”Ilookedoutthewindowwithmyarmsfoldedovermychest.Ihuntedtheskyforacloud,desperatetoseeAuntieTildaagain,butallIsawwasaconsistentblanketofblackvelvet.
“Istheapartmenttoyoursatisfaction?”
“Tonightwillbemyfirstnightthere,”Iansweredcurtly.“I’msureI’mgoingtoloveit.”
Whywouldn’tI?ItwasinthemostexclusivebuildinginBoston.Withfive-starhotelamenities,achef’skitchen,Subzeroappliances,heatedflooring,andItalian-importedfurniture.
And…Icouldn’tcareless.
Aboutanyofit.
Ifanything,IwasbummedIcouldn’tstayatBelle’s,whereatleastI’dhaveherbodyheatagainstmineeverymorningwhenshecrawledintobed.WhereIhadconversation,andhappymoments,andweekendsmakingfoodinthetinykitchenettewithaglassofwine.
Ihatedeverythingaboutthisconversationwithmyhusband.
Theclinicalpoliteness.
Thelackofintimacy.
HowInowknewwhathislipsfeltlike.
“Whydidyouasktheorchestratoplay‘TheArrivaloftheQueenofSheba?’Whynot‘BridalChorus?’”Iblurtedout.
“Idon’tlikeWagner.”
“Becauseheisloved?”Iteased.
“No,becausehewasaNazi,”heansweredplainly.
Ishothimasidelongglance,surprised.
“Interesting.”
“Notparticularly.Youmaywanttobroadenyourpoolofinterests.”
Turningtowardhimfully,Ismirked.
“Soyoudon’tconsumeproductsthatarelooselyconnectedtoracism.Bythatlogic,youdon’tdriveaFord,wearHugoBoss,oruseKodakproducts.”
“IdriveanAstonMartin,wearKitonandBrioni,andnotousingKodak.”
“Careful,hubs,orI’llsuspectyouhaveasoul.”
“Nobodyhasasoul.WhatIhaveisafewworkingbraincellsandlooseprinciples.”
“Nobodyhasasoul?”Iechoed,dumbfounded.“Iknowyoudon’tbelieveinfeelings,orGod,butyoudon’tbelieveinsouls,either?”
“Doyou?”Hetookasmoothturnintoourneighborhood.Welivedonlyafewblocksawayfromeachother.
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,incredulous.
“Whereisitthen?”Hisambereyeswerestillontheroad.“Yoursoul.Anatomically.”
“Justbecauseyoucan’tseesomethingdoesn’tmeanit’snotinexistence.Takeair,forinstance.Orintelligence.Orlove.”
“ThefactyoushovetheL-wordintoeveryconversationsaysalotaboutyou,youknow.”
“Therearenofacts,Cillianmydear.Onlyinterpretations.”
Itwashisturntoshootmeadisbelievinglook.
“Nietzsche.”
“Imarriedanihilist.”Iranahandoverthesoftsatinofmygown.I’dspentthepastfewweeksreadingeverythingNietzscheandHeideggerlikemylifedependedonit.“TheleastIcoulddobeforesayingIdowastotakeatourinthatmindofyours.Understandyourmoralcompass.”
“Ihavenomorals.That’sthepointofbeinganihilist.”
Youboycottcompaniesandpeoplebecauseonceuponaverylongtime,theystoodforsomethingyoustronglydisagreedwith.Youarenothingbutmorals.
Ofcourse,pointingthatoutwasonlygoingtomakeusarguemore.Itwasbesttomakehimfindoutforhimselfthathewasn’ttheassholehethoughthewas
Hetookaturntomystreetandparkedinfrontofmyapartmentbuilding.Adoormanstoodattheentrance.Iputmyhandonthedoorhandle,drawingabreathbeforeshovingitopen.
“Persephone.”
Iwhippedmyheadaround,myeyesclingingtohisface.
“Westillhaven’tdiscussedtheconceptionpart.”
“There’snothingtodiscuss.Youcanstarttakingmycalls.Betteryet—callmewhenyou’rereadytostarttrying.Wecanhittheroadrunningandgetpregnantbysummer.”
Iwantedchildrenwithallmyheart.Wasalwaysthegirlwhotuckedherdollsintolittleplasticstrollerswhilehersisterclimbedontreesandskateboardedwiththeboys.
AllIeverwantedwasafamilyofmyown.BabiesandmatchingplaidjammiesandelaborateChristmastreeswithhandmadedecorations.
“WhataremychancesofconvincingyoutogotheIVFroute?”Killasked,businesslike.
“Nonexistent,”Isaidflatly.“Wehaveadeal.”
“Fine.I’llhavesomeonesendoverovulationtests.Callmewhenyou’reready.”
“That’sanofromme.”
“Excuseme?”Hewhippedhisheadinmydirection.DidIfinallymanagetoangerhim?Probablynot,butatleasthedidn’tlookhiscool,deadselfforamoment.
“Idon’twanttotaketests.Iliketheelementofsurprise.”Ishrugged,deliberatelyprovokinghim.
“Isthereapointtohavingsexifyouarenotovulating?”Tohisdefense,hetried.Triedtoclingtotheremainderofhiscalmwitheverythinghehad.ButIintendedtosnapit.
“Thereis,”Irepliedsunnily.
“Doshareit.”
“I’llorgasm.”
Forthefirsttimeinmylife,IsawtheCillianFitzpatrickblushing.Icouldswearit.Eveninthedimlightcastbythestreetlamps,InoticedhisfaceturningashadeI’dneverseenonhimbefore.Hismouthpressedinahardline.
“Sexualfavorsweren’tapartofournegotiation.”
“Sueme.”Ithrewthepassengerdooropenbutdidn’tgetoutjustyet.“Look,ifyoudon’twanttotouchmethismuch,don’tbother.Youdon’thavetosleepwithme,Kill.Butifyouwantmetogiveyouababy,that’stherouteyou’llhavetotake.Andanotherthing.”Iturnedtohim.Icouldtellhewasshockedbymyboldbehavior.Hewascountingonawatered-downversionofhissister.Andtoanextent,Iwasexactlythatperson—romantic,sweet,alwayswillingtohelp.
ButIknewdamnwellthatwithKill,IhadtofightbackifIwantedtoearnhisrespect,histrust,andaplaceinhislife.
Hestaredatme,crackinghisfingersunderthestirringwheel.
“You,mydarlinghusband,kisslikeahungryRottweiler.”
Noresponse.
“Youreallyneedtoworkonyourtongue-to-lipsratio.Andyouusewaytoomuchsaliva.”
Hecontinuedstaringatme,ridiculouslyunmoved.
C’mon.Feelsomething.Anything.Anger!Wrath!Disgust!I’minsultingyou.
“IguessIcanteachyou.”Iletoutasigh.
“Hardpass.”
“Butyou—”
“Dropit,Persephone.Inordertoinsultme,I’llfirsthavetovalueyouropinion,andasestablishedfiveminutesago,Idon’tvalueanything.”
“Yourloss.”
“Neverheardanycomplaints.”
“Ofcourseyouhaven’t!”Igotoutofhiscar,slammingthedoorinhisface.“Youdon’tpaythemtogradeyou.Goodnight,hubs.”
Turningaround,Iwalkedaway,feelinghiseyesonmetheentiretime.
Ienteredmynewgoldencage,knowingfullwellthatforallitsgildedbeauty,itwas,afterall,stillacage.Thethreeweeksaftermyweddingdaywerelitteredwithalmosts
IalmostcalledPersephonewhentheurgetogotoEuropeandsatisfymyneedstorchedmyblood.ItwasnothingshortofamiracleI’dmanagedtotakecareofbusinessinmyshowerwithahandproppedoverthemosaictiles,rubbingoneoutlikeacrazedteenager.
IalmostdrovestraighttoherapartmentwhenIspottedSailorprancingaroundmyofficewithhertinybabybump,bringingHunterlunchandfinallylookinglikeanexpectantmotherandnotlikeasix-year-oldscrawnyboywhohadanextraservingofBrusselssprouts.
IalmosttextedmywifewhenIsawapaparazzipictureofherinalocalgossipcolumnDevonhadsentmeinwhichsheheadedtoahotyogaclasswithhersistercladintightyogapantsandasportsbra.
AndIalmostusedherasaconsolationprizethismorningwhenIarrivedattheofficetofindabillboardthesizeofagoddamnbuilding—onethatwasdirectedtomyofficewindow—withmyfaceonit,fakeblooddrippingfromthecornerofmymouth.
The#1WesternWorldVillainisheretokillthepolarbears
Andyourplanet.
GoddamnAndrewArrowsmith.
EverytimeIwasabouttomakeamove,IrememberedhowshedeliberatelytriedtoangermethenightIdroppedheroffathernewapartment.
Everythingaboutmywifewasmessy,annoying,andinconvenient.Theworstpartwasthatsomehowthedocilelittlecreaturehadmanagedtoputmeataspotofdisadvantage.
Inordertoimpregnateher,Ineededtoseeher.
WhichIverymuchdidn’twanttodo.
Theballwasinmycourt,andIwantedtokickitacrosstheworldwhereIwouldn’thavetoseeorhearher.WhereIwouldn’thavetotasteher.
Iwasstrugglingtorememberwhatmademeagreetostaycelibate.
IwasevenmorepuzzledbythefactIhadkeptmyword.
Withatriptomymistressesfirmlyoffthetable,Idrownedmyselfinworkwhiletryingtothinkofloopholesofhowtoimpregnateherwithouttouchingher.SheandIhadverydifferentideasofwhatsexshouldentail,andtarnishingherwithmyfilthyhandsandmindwasnotsomethingIwaswillingtoentertain.
Myphonedancedacrossmyofficedesk.
“Devon.”Ihitthespeakerbutton.“TowhatdoIowethedispleasure?”
“I’dsaytobeingaworld-classcuntandcollectingenemiesaroundtheglobeliketheywereRoyalMailstamps.”
“Ipissedsomeoneoff,”Iconcluded.
“Correct.”
“You’llneedtospecify.”
“Lookoutyourwindow.”
“Alreadydid.Notmybestpicture,butIjustredirectedthreemilltoPRandadvertisingtobuythisspot—andalltheothersinthecity—andreplaceitthemomentAndrew’sleaseisdonewithpositiveads.”
“Thesoddingbillboardisnothing.Youroldmate,AndrewArrowsmith,wentforagrandergesturetoprofesshishateforyou.Lookdown.”
Isaunteredtomyfloor-to-ceilingwindow.TherewasademonstrationoutsidetheRoyalPipelines’building.
No.Notademonstration.Completechaos,consistingofhundredsofactivistswavingGreenLivingflagsandholdingStrikefortheClimatesignsandgiantcardboardprintsofthemeltingArctic.
Someofthemmarchedwithenlargedprintoutsofpenguinsstandingonmeltingicebergs,starvingpolarbearswithribspokingoutoftheirfur,andvariousdeadoceanicanimalssmearedinoil.
Itookadeepbreath.Iknewmypulsewouldstayincontrol.Italwaysdid.
“HowdidInotknowaboutthis?”
“It’saspontaneousdemonstration.Theydidn’tclearitwiththepolice.It’lldisperseinthenexthourorso.Ialreadymadesomecalls.”
“AndwhereisArrowsmith?”Igrittedout.
“Townhall.”ThesoftclickofDevon’ssmartshoestoldmehewaswalkingsomewhereandfast.“He’sfilingapubliclawsuitagainstRoyalPipelinesfordrillingexploratorywellsintheArctic.Hewantsthemshutdown.”
“HowworriedamI?”Igrabbedmylaptop,gettingreadytogodowntothefourthfloorandripmylegalteamanewonefornotsmellingthisfromahundred-mileradius.
“Considerably.Youowntheland,butAndrewissuggestingsomeamendmentstointernationallaws,”Devonadmitted.“What’syourgameplan?”
“MakehimlosehispantsbyprolongingthetrialuntilGreenLivingwon’tbeabletoaffordapackageoflettuce,”Isaidrightoffthebat.
“That’dstallhim,notstophim.”Devonsoundedthoughtful.“I’monmyway.Meetmeonthefourthfloor.”
Istormedoutofmyoffice,passingadesperateCasey,whoflailedonherheels,tryingtochasemedowntofigureoutwhatIwantedforlunch.
Andrew’sheadonaplatter.
“Kill?”DevonaskedontheotherlineasIpunchedtheelevator.“Arrowsmithmadeabloodygoodmove.Wemightneedtonegotiate.”
“Idon’tnegotiatewithterrorists.”
Besides,IknewAndrewdidn’tgivetwodamnsaboutthepolarbearsorfluffysnowfoxes.Ifanything,hemust’veknowndrillingtheArcticwasn’thalfasdirtyandcontroversialashydraulicfracking,alsoknownasRoyalPipelines’methodofchoiceuntilIcameintothepicture.
HewasaftertheFitzpatricks.
Me,specifically.
Unfortunatelyforhim,Ihadtworules:
Inevershiedawayfromagood,gorywar.

Ialwayswon.

Afteranurgentmeetingthatbledintolateafternoon,Itooktheelevatorbacktothemanagementfloor.
Devonandmyentirelegalteamhadadvisedmetobidemytime,staysilent,thenreleaseapublicstatementinafewweeks’time,indicatingRoyalPipelineswouldceaseitsexplorationinArcticwaterduetoinsufficientquantitiesofpetroleum.
Inotherwords,IwasaskedtoretreatandwavethewhiteflagonthegroundsthatgoingtowarmademykneeslookbloatedasopposedtobecauseIwasafraidoflosingtoAndrewArrowsmith.
Littledidtheyknow,Ineverlost.
Iwasn’tangryorunruffled,butIdefinitelywasn’tinagivingmood.JustbecauseIdidn’tfeeldidn’tmeanIwasimmunetoabadtemper.Andrewwastryingtoscrewmeover,andIdidnotappreciatethewayhewentaboutit.
IsaunteredpastHunter’sglassoffice,pausingwhenIrealizedhehadcompany.
Sailorsatonhisdesk,throwingherheadbackandlaughing.Emmabellewasthere,too,inheelsmorefittedforadragshowandaredleatherskirt.SheprobablyfrequentedthesameshopsasMs.Brandt.
Thentherewasmywife
Persephoneworeadesignerblackchiffondresswithsilverstars,swinginganewpairofGuccibootsasshesatontheedgeofHunter’sdesk,suckingonalollipop.
Shemovedlikeasirenglidingoutofthewater.Healthy,radiating,andhappy.Atleastafewpoundsheavierthanshewasatourwedding.TheextraweightgavehercurvesandarchesthatwouldmakethePope’smouthwater.
Mywifewasglowing,content,andgorgeous.
Anditmademewanttostrangleher.
ShewaslivingthelifewhileIpickedupthetab.Newapartment,newwardrobe,cleaners,andmealkitservices,plusafullstaffwaitingforhertosnapherfingersandtellthemwhattodo.Shestillhadn’tfulfilledherpartofourbargain.
Igotarawdeal,andiftherewasonethingIwasn’t—itwasabadbusinessman.
Smoothingahandovermywaistcoat,IwalkedovertoHunter’sofficeandopenedthedoorwithoutknocking.
“Hey,bro.”Hunterlookedupfromsomethingheshowedthewomenonhisphone,stillsmiling.“’Sup?Youlooklikesomeonepissedinyoursoup.”
Ignoringhim,ImovedtowardPersephone,whostiffenedtheminuteIenteredtheroom.Ileaneddownandkissedhercheek,watchingthecolorrisingonherporcelain-grainedcomplexion.
“Kill,”shesaid,bizarrelysurprisedbybumpingintomeinmyownofficebuilding.WassheexpectingmetorunmymeetingsatthelocalChuckE.Cheese?
“Howhaveyoubeen?”Iaskedcoolly.
“Great.”
Ibet,sweetheart.
“MayIhaveaword?”
Shelookedaroundus,hesitatingasthoughI’dpounceonher.Webothknewwehadtheoppositeproblem.
“Isthehoneymoonphaseover?”Sailorraisedagingereyebrow.“Oh,that’sright.Killdidn’ttakePersyonahoneymoon.”
“Don’tmakemetakeoffmyearrings.”Bellesteppedtowardme,foldingherarms.“Killwillgetkilledifhemesseswithmybabysister.I’vealreadytoldhimthat.”
That’sright.Emmabellepaidmeavisitshortlyafternewsofmyengagementtohersisterbroke.IstillmournedthetenminutesIhadtolistentoherrambling.
First,she’dofferedherselfasabrideifI’dlethersistergo.Ithadobviouslybeenatest,meanttoseeifI’dwantedPersephonespecifically,oranywomanwithauterusandofgoodhealth.WhenI’dtoldEmmabellemyinterestintouchingherrivaledmydesiretosteponeverypieceofLegoinNorthAmericabarefoot,she’dproceededtomakeidlethreatsandflexhernonexistentbiceps,bullyingmewithbodilyharm.
I’dstaredatherimpatientlyforthedurationofherspeech,thensentherbacktowhereshecamefrom.
HowevermuchIdislikedbothmysisters-in-law,theyseemedcompletelyunawareofwhatwentoninmymarriage,andthatwasgoodnews.ItmeantthatPersephonehadkepthermouthshut.Sure,Hunter,Sam,andDevonwereprivytothetruth—Iuttereditaloudinfrontofthemthatpokernight—buttheyweremyallies.
MywifehoppedfromHunter’sdesk,stickingtheredlollipopbackintohermouth.
“Allright,hubs.Makeitquick.”
Iledhertomyoffice,thencontinuedintotheprivateensuite,wherethewallsweren’tglass,andnoonecouldseeus.
Iclosedthedoorbehindus,thenfixedherwithalook.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Havinglunchwithfriends.”Shepoppedthesuckeroutofhermouth.Thescentofwatermelonfilledtheair,makingmydickstir.“Havingagoodday,hubs?”
“Notparticularly.”
“Yeah,Isawinthelocalnewsaboutthedemonstration.”Shescrunchedherlittlenose,whichIsincerelyhopedmyfuturekidsweregoingtoinherit.“Thatbillboardupthereisn’tyourbestangle,either.”
Istaredather,notsurewhyIcalledherinhere.Ihadnothingtosaytoher.Yettheneedtomonopolizehertimeburnedinme.Iwastheonewhodeservedherattention.
Igotheroutoftrouble.
Ipaidforhernewlyindulgentlifestyle.
Iwastheonesheshouldbespendingtimewith.
Youdon’twantanyofthesethings,youmoron.
“Whatyou’redoingintheArcticis…”Sheputahandtoherchest.
“Terrible?”Ifinishedforherwithasmirk.
“Monstrous.”
“Crymeariver.”
“You’llprobablyfindawaytopolluteit,too.”
“Abitofloyaltywouldn’tkillyou,FlowerGirl.I’myourhusband.Althoughthat’snotsayingmuch,consideringyoudivorcedthepreviousonewithouthisconsent.”Ileanedoverthegranitewall,crossingmylegsattheankles.
Hereyeswidened.
“Areyoukiddingme?You’recomparingmydivorcingmyrunawayhusbandtowhatyou’redoing?”ThesameblazeoffireIsawwhenwenegotiatedourtermsreturnedtohereyes,makingmysemiafull-blownerection.“You’reruiningourplanetforfinancialgain.TheEarthisnotyourwasteland.Nottomention,you’redrivingentireanimalgroupsintoextinction.Thepolarbearsandthepenguinscometomind.”
“I’msorryyoufeelthatway,”Isaidrobotically.Awell-rehearsedreplytothesamethingI’dheardoverandoveragain.
“No,you’renot.”
“You’reright.I’mnotsorryatall.Youcan’trunyourcaronadorable.”
“ButIcanrunitonbatteries,thankstoElonMusk,”shedishedback,hertonesweet.
“Iknowwomenarefondofbattery-operateddevices,butthey’reneverasgoodastherealthing.”
Shechokedonherlollipop.Iwonderedifshehadanoralfixation.Firstthecigar,andnowthis.Itwashardtoconcentratewhenherpinklipswerealwayswrappedaroundsomething.Especiallywhenitwasn’tmycock.
Icouldhavetoldherthetruth.ThattheArcticwasn’talong-termplan.ThatIhadagreenerenvironmentalplantoputmyhandsonnaturalgas.Afuturistic,twenty-secondcenturyinventionthatwasintheworks.ButIdidn’tmuchmindtobeknownasthemanwhowasresponsibleforruiningtheworld.
“Whyareyoureallyhere,Persephone?”Ipushedoffthewall,advancinginherdirection,notstoppinguntilwewereflushagainstoneanother.Whileemotionswerealiability,gettingmywifepregnantwasacalling.
Thefasterwecouldgetitdone,thesoonerwecouldceasecommunication.
Herdelicatethroatbobbedwithaswallow.Shewasplasteredtothewall,corneredlikeananimal.Shelickedherlips,herblueeyesdroppingtomymouth.
“Lunch.”Shestucktoherversion.“WhyelsewouldIbehere?”
Iputmyarmoverherhead,crowdingher,meetinghereyes.Ihadafewgoodinchesonher,evenwithhernewheels.
“Ithinkyou’reherebecauseyouowemesomething.”
“I’mgivingyoueverythingIsignedonfor.Iliveintheapartmentyou’vedesignatedforme.I’mavailabletoyou.Idon’trememberyoupickingupthephoneandaskingtoconsummateourmarriage.”Shearchedaneyebrow.
Shehaddelicateeyebrows.AnotherthingIwouldn’tmindmychildrengettingfromher.
Infact,I’dbegladiftheytookeverythingfromher.
Everythingbutthatbleedingheart.
AndthatshowedyouexactlyhowhighlyIthoughtofmyself.
“Idon’tbeg,”Idrawled.
“Nooneaskedyouto.Butifyouwanttogetintomybed,you’llneedtomaketherequiredarrangements.It’snottoomuchtoask.”
Shemadesense,andthatworriedmebecauseusually,Iwasthepragmaticpersonintheconversation.Anyconversation.
“You’reherenow,”Inoted.
Iwasn’tinthemoodforsex,butIsupposedIhadtogetitoverwithatsomepoint.
Shebeamedaroundthelollipop,herlipsswollenandachinglykissable.“We’renothavingsexinyourbathroom.Ihavemoreself-respectthanthat.”
“Areyousure?”Iasked,half-sardonic,half-hopeful.“Sofar,you’veactedlikeaglorifiedmail-orderbride.Bendingoverthevanitywouldbewellwithinyourtypicalbehavior.”
Shelaughed.
Sheactuallylaughed
Flippingherhairtooneshoulder,mywifespunonherheel.
“Goodbye,hubs.”
Shestruttedherwaytothedoor,allfire,sugar,andtemptation.Sheknewexactlywhatshewasdoing,andshediditwell.Nopartofherwasmeekandna?venow.
Notaccustomedtohavingwomenleavebeforeverballyexcusingthem,Iwatchedwithfascinationmixedwithannoyance.I’dneverhadtofigureouthowtokeepsomeoneclose.Usually,mystatus,power,andfatwalletdiditforme.
WatchingherleavemademefeelasthoughI’dbeenrobbedofsomething.
“Persephone,”Ibarked.
Shestopped.
“Turnaround.”
“No.”
“Don’tmakemeteachyoualesson.”
“Why?”sheaskedbrightly.“I’magoodstudent.AlthoughIthinkI’mtheonewhoisgivingyouavaluableclasstoday.Ifyouwantmetostay,you’regoingtohavetoasknicelyandnotordermearound.”
Myinstinctsurgedmetodisregardher.Putherinherplace.Butthatwouldbeactingoutofemotions,andIdidn’tdothose.NormalCillian—saneCillian—wouldhumorhertogetwhathewantedandthendiscardher.
Quarrelingwithherwasn’tgoingtobringmeastepclosertotriumph.Ortohavinganheir.
SwallowingdownajuicycurseIcouldn’tbelieveIthoughtabout,letalonecouldutter,Itookabreath.
“Pleaseturnaround.”
Shedid,slowly.Andforthefirsttime,Irealizedhowawfulitfelttobeatsomeoneelse’smercy.Thehumblenessinmysituationmademeborderlinenauseous.
Knockherupandgetridofher.You’llbethelastonetolaughwhensheischangingdiapersandraisingyourfutureheirswhileyou’redeepinsideaFrenchsocialite.
“Wouldyouliketohavedinnerwithme?”Ispatout.
“Yes.”Hersmilewaswarmlikethesun,fullofpromise.“Tonightokay?”
“Tonight’sfine.”
“Whydon’tIcookforus?”
Becauseitwillprobablytastehorrible.
ButthesewerethoughtsIneededtofilteratleastuntilmyobjectivewasachieved.Notbeingunbearablewasalearningcurve.
“Ihaveaprivatechef.Wecanalsoorderin.”
Sheshookherhead.“Nothingbeatsahome-cookedmeal.”
“Wheredoyouthinkmychefcooksmymeals?Notthebathroom,”Ibitout.
Definitelyalearningcurve.
Shelaughed.“Yourchefdoesn’tcookwiththeirheart.”
“Fortunately,”Iscowled,“thatwouldbeunhygienic.Anypreferences?”
Hereyestraveleddowntomycrotch.Heatroseupmyspine.Itwasthecelibacy.Iwasn’tusedtobeingdependentonsomeoneelse’savailability.
Wasthiswhatmonogamyfeltlike?NowonderthedivorcerateinWesterncountrieswasthroughtheroof.
“Don’tworryaboutmypreferences.Justletmedothecooking.Ihaveonestipulation.”
Therewerealwaysstipulationswiththiswoman.
ButnomatterhowmuchIwantedtoregretmarryingherandnotstickingtomyMinkaGomesplan,IhadtoadmitPersephonewasanaphrodisiacthecarnalsideofmecouldn’trefuse.
Herbitingbeauty,easywit,andwarmpersonalitygaveheraregalshine.Likeallrarejewels,Iwantedherformyselfforthesakeofhavingher.
Tuckingmyhandsintomyfrontpockets,Ishotheralook.
“Well?”
“Iwantittobeatyourplace.”
“Done.”
Iwasn’tasentimentalman.Bringinghertomybedwouldn’tmakemeassociatesaidbedwithherinit.Shewasn’tagoddamnsafetyblanket.
Ifshethoughtshewastrickingmeintodevelopingfeelingstowardher,shewasgravelymistaken.
“Seeyouatseven.”Sheturnedaway,leavingmewithahard-on,abadmood,andtheuneasysenseI’djustmadeaterriblemistake.
Gettingridofherjustturnedfromaplantoanecessity.
Ineededtoremovemywifefrommylifebeforeshetrickledintomysystem.Mymainissuewas,Ididn’tknowhowtocook.
Mysecondissuewas,IactuallyhopedfixingKillahome-cookedmeal(whichwasverylikelytotastelikemothballs)wasgoingtomakeadifference.
ButmythirdandmostpressingissuewastheoneIconcentratedonrightnow—IwasprettysureIwassettingmyhusband’skitchenonfire.
MaybeitwasKarmabitch-slappingmeforplayingdirty.
OnceithadbecomeobviousthatHusbandDearestwasn’tgoingtomakethefirststeptoseeme,I’ddecidedtodropbyhisofficeandmilkadinnerdateoutofhim.
Iwasdesperatetoformaconnectionwhilehewasdeterminedtoprotectmyvirtue.Inmanyways,itfeltlikehavinganimpotentsugardaddy—Igotalltheperksbutnotthedick.
Theproblemwas,Iwantedthedick.Theshoesweregreat,butnotsogreatIwantedtomoantheirnames.
I’daskedthatitwouldbeathisplacebecauseIwantedtoinvadehisspace,ripouthiswalls,andclawmywayintohislife.Beingmarriedtoamanwhodidn’twantme—whoactuallyactivelysoughtwaystogetridofme—feltlikeswimmingagainstthestream.Iwasexhaustedbutdetermined.Becausefailuremeantheartbreak.AndbecausenomatterhowmuchCillianwastryingtoproveeveryoneotherwise,Igenuinelybelievedthatdeepdown(andImeantverydeep,asdeepastherigshedrilled),thatthinginhischestwasaferociousmonster.Locked,chained,andheavilysedatedbutverymuchalive.
“Holyfu…what’sthatsmell?”Petarjoggedintothekitchen,grabbingatowelfromthecounterandflappingitaroundtoclearoutthesmokeinhispath.
Eventhoughwe’dagreedonmeetingatsevensharp,Killwasn’taroundwhenIgothere.Petar,hisestatemanager,saidhewasswimming,gettinghisdailyexercise,andwouldjoinmeshortly.
DespitethefactIpridedmyselfinnothavingatemper,Ihadtokeepmyirritationincheck.
“I’mtryingtomakelemonchickenandrisotto.”Istaggeredawayfromthehissingpotinfrontofme.“Iguesstryingistheoperativewordhere.”
Petarrushedtomyside,turningthestoveoff.Hewithdrewthesizzlingpanfromthestovetop,dumpingitintothesinkandturningonthefaucet.Blacksmokerosetotheceiling,settingoffthefirealarmaroundtheginormouskitchen.
Theshriekingsoundpiercedmyeardrums,shakingtheentiremansion.Petarproceededtoturnofftheoven,thenopenallthewindowsandthedoorleadingtothebackyard.Iapologizedprofuselywhilehegotthesmallfireundercontrol.
“Remindmewhyyouinsistedonmakingdinner?”Petarwavedakitchentowelintheair,tryingtogetridofsomeofthesmoke.
ExplainingthatridiculousthingsfoundtheirwayleavingmymoutheverytimeIwasnexttohisbosswasn’tanacceptableanswer.SoIwentadifferentroute.“Iwantedtohaveaspecialevening.”
“It’sspecial,allright.”Petarsnortedasheproducedhisphonefromhisbackpocket.
“I’llcallthemaintenanceguy.SeeifhecanstartworkingonthekitchentonightifIthrowinafewextrabucks.”Petarscrolledthroughhiscontacts.“AlthoughIgottasay,thebossisnotgonnabehappy.”
“WhyamInotgoingtobehappy?”Achillingvoicerangbehindmyback.Iturnedaround,suckinginabreath.Myhusbandstoodatthedoorway,notevenafootawayfromme,freshlyshoweredandshaven,hisdarkchocolatehairdampandtousled.ThesimplewhiteV-neckandsweatpantsclungtohisleanbodylikeeagerfangirls,andhisbicepsandforearmswerestillflushandtautfromhisworkout.
Thetwinklinggoldenbandonhisfinger,whichInoticedhehadn’tremovedsinceourwedding,caughtthelightintheroom,remindingmethatattheveryleast,hewaslegallymine.
“Iburneddownyourkitchen.”Itiltedmychinup.
Betternottomincewords.Besides,thehugeblackstainonhisceilingabovethestovetopwasvisiblefromAfrica.Chanceswere,hedidn’tneedmetospellitoutforhim.
Hestudiedthestain,hiscold,deadeyesreturningtomine.
“Deliberately?”
“No.”
“Areyouhurt?”
Thequestioncaughtmeoffguard.Ifeltmybrowsbunching.“No.”
Killsniffedtheair.Hehadthemaddeningabilitytodothemostmundanethingsinasexuallychargedway.Heraisedhisarm,snappingitinPetar’sdirection,stilllookingatme.
“Out.”
“Yes,sir.”
Petarscurriedout,shuttingthedoorbehindhim.Thefirealarmstopped,andthechillfromtheeveningbreezereplacedthesuffocatingsmoke.
Myhusbandtookasteptowardme.Ahotwhipofpleasurestruckmyskinathisproximity.Iworesomethingsexytonight.Achampagne-coloredpleateddressthatbarelymadeittomythighspairedwithLouboutinheels—oneoutofthirteennewpairsI’dbeengiftedbymyhusband.
Heclaspedmychininhisfingers,anglingmyheadup,hiseyeshoninginonmine.
“Whatwasonthemenu?”
“Lemonchickenandrisotto.”
“Whatthehellwereyouthinking?”
Iwasn’t.Iwantedtoimpressyou.
“MaybeIwantedtopoisonyou.”Inarrowedmyeyes.
Aghostofasmilepassedhislips.
“Theonlypersonyou’recapableofpoisoningisyourself,asdemonstratedafewyearsago.Eventhen,youbotchedthejob.”
“Hey,Ididagreatjob.It’snotmyfaultyousavedme.”
“Istillhavemyregrets.”Hegavemeaplayfulshove.Itookastepback,myeyesneverleavinghis.
“Here’sthething.Youhadyourstabatcookingdinner,andyoublewit.Ihaveapokergameinacoupleofhours.Whichmeanswe’llhavetoskipthefirstcourseandgetstraighttotheentrée.”
“Youscheduledapokergametonight?”Ifeltmyeyesflaring.
Hetookanotherstepforward,andIinstinctivelysteppedback.Hewascorneringme.TrappingmeintohiscobwebswhileIdesperatelytriedtothinkstraight
“Youweren’tplanningonspooninginfrontofWhenHarryMetSally,wereyou,FlowerGirl?”heasked,givingmeamockingpout.
Iwantedtotellhimtogotohellandstaytherefortheforeseeablefuture,butjustasIopenedmymouth,mybackcrashedagainstthekitchenisland.Killgrabbedmebythewaist,hoistedmeup,andbalancedmeoverthemarble.Thecoldsurfacehitthebackofmythighs,andIsuckedinabreath,waitingforhimtokissme,totouchme,todosomethingwildandrawanduncontrolled,thewayhedidatourwedding.
Instead,heproducedasmallsatchelfromhisbackpocket,tearingitopen.
Ifrowned.
“Acondom?”
Hetsked
“Lube.AsImentionedbefore,gettingyouoffisnotapartofmyjobdescription.”
“I’mnotawhore.”Ipushedhimoff.
“Sexworker,”hecorrectedblandly.“Trustme,noonemistakesyouforone.Ifyouwereanescort,I’dflipyouoverandplowintoyoubynow.”
Myfaceflamed.“You’regettingyourpaidcompanyoff?”
“Unfailingly.”
“Why?”
“Becauseit’stherightthingtodo.Andbecausethereisabsolutelyzerochanceofmyforminganyattachmenttothemorviceversa.ItisnottoolateforIVF,Persephone.Dotherightthingandleavethedirtyfucksforthemistresses.You’rebetterthanthat.”
Thewayhesaidthatdrylywiththesatcheloflubestilldanglingbetweenhisfingersmademerealizehe’dplannedthisallalong.
Heluredmeinhere,keptmewaitingwhileImadedinner,thentookoutthelubetohumiliateme.HeangeredmelikeIangeredhimathisoffice.Threwmeoffbalancetoputmeofftheideaofhavingsexwithhim.
CillianwantedmetoleavehereuntouchedwithapromisetotryIVF.
Icouldn’thelpbutnoticehisreasonfornotwantingtotouchme.
Iwastoogood.
Notamistress.
Notanescort.
Asparkofhopeignitedinmychest.Iwasdeterminedtobeathimathisowngameeventhoughhechangedtherulessooftenhemademyheadspin.
“Fine.”Ishrugged,tryingmybesttoappearcalm.“Youwin.”
Henodded,steppingbackfrombetweenmythighs.“Iknowanexcellentfertilityexpert.Dr.Waxman.I’llseethat—”
“No.ImeantI’mfinewiththelube.Handitover.”Iopenedmypalm,stretchingmyarminhisdirection.Hepaused,eyeingmeasthoughthiswasatest.
Whenhedidn’tmakeamove,Iwiggledmyfingers.“Goon.”
“Youwon’tcome,”hehissed.
Irolledmyeyes,shimmyingmypantiesdownmylegs.“Letmetellyoualittlesecret,Kill.Wewomenoftendon’t.”
“You’restubborn.”
“Soareyou,”Ianswered.“Howfarareyougoingtotakethisthing?”
“Amilefurtherthanyouwill,”heassuredme.“Ineverlose,FlowerGirl.”
“There’safirsttimeforeverything.”
“Notwithme.”
“Iguessonlytimewilltell.Handmethelube,”Irepeated.“Rulesarerules,andwehadanagreement.”
Reluctantly,hedisposedthelubeinmyhand.Isqueezeditonmyfingersandslidthecold,wetthingintomychannel,suckinginabreathatthesuddenintrusion.ItfeltlikeanOB-GYNexam,andthefactthatsecretly—stupidly—I’dbeendreamingaboutthismomentforyears,ofbeingwithCillianintimately,mademeswallowdownalumpoftears.
Ispreadmylegs,allowingmydresstohikeupmythighs,exposingmyselftohim.Myhusbandsnuckaquicklookbetweenmythighs,histhroatbobbing.Helookedaway,colorrisingonhissharpcheekbones.
Thisadamant,fearlesscreatureinfrontofmetoldmehewasincapableoffeelings,buthedidfeelsomethingnow—discomfort.Excitement.Dread.
Hesteppedforward,settlingbetweenmylegs,stillfullyclothed.Theaircrackledbetweenus,andthefinehaironmyarmsprickledwithanticipation.
Ileanedbackonmyforearms,bitingthecornerofmylip.Hepushedhissweatpantsdown,hiseyestransfixedonaninvisiblespotbehindmyhead.Hewasdeterminednottobepresentwhenithappened.Refusingtotouchorlookatme.Hereleasedhiscockfromhisunderwear.Hewaspainfullyhardandengorged,apearlofcumonhistip.
AtleastnowIknewourproblemwasn’tphysicalattraction.
Heangledhimselftowardmyentrance,hiswryexpressionmakinghimlooklikehewasamanondeathrow,thenslidinallthewayinonego,fillingmetothehilt.Hiseyesrolled,hisgazedriftingtotheceilingashesuppressedahiss.
Iwasnotonlywet—Iwassoaked.Mycenterhotandinviting.Igrabbedhischeeks,slantinghisfacesohe’dlookatme.Hisnostrilsflared,hislipspursingintoathinline.Hedidn’tmoveinsideme.Webothknewitfelttoogood.Tooright.Wefitperfectly,andIstruggledtomaintaincontrolwheneverymuscleinmybodyshook,threateningtosurrendertotheacutepleasurerollingthroughme.
Ireachedbehindmyback,tuggingatthestringthatkeptmycrisscrossdressfastened,andletitloose.Thefabricfellatthefront,exposingmyheavybreasts.
Cillian’sbreathhitched.Helookedawayagainatthewall,pullingout,thendrivingintomeonce.
Thrust.
Thrust
Thrust.
Hismovementsweremeasured,controlled,designedtoholdback.Hewasn’there.Notreally.
“Nicekitchen,”Icommented,makingidleconversation.IrefusedtoallowhimtoforgetIwasintheroomashesankintome.Asmymusclesinvoluntarilysqueezedaroundhisheavyhardness,begginghimformore.Tremorsdancedalongmyskin.“Didyougetitremodeledrecently?”
Hegrunted,squeezinghiseyesshutanddrivingintomeagainwithmoreforce.Iletoutamoan.Ididn’tmeantotakepleasureinthis,justasIwasprettysureCilliandidn’tmeantohitmyG-spot.Regardless,boththosethingshappened,andIfeltmythighsquiveringaroundhisnarrowwaist.Thehot,pressed-silkofhiscockdrovememad,andmymouthwatered.
Thrust.
Anotherwhimperescapedme.
“Wefitsogood,”Ipurred.
Hecoveredmymouthwithhispalm,lookingpainedanddisgustedwithbothofus.
Thrust.
Ithrewmyheadback,pressingmyeyesshutasIfeltmybreastsbouncingtothepaceofhisjerks.IhatedthatIenjoyedit.HatedthatIwasgoingtocomeapartcompletelyunprompted.ButIcouldn’tblamemyself.Cillianwasafantasy,andhavinghiminsidemewasenoughtoignitemyworldanddetonateitintoadifferentgalaxyallbyitself.
Thrust.
“Kill.”Ilickedhispalmonmymouth,insertingmytonguebetweenhisfingers.
Anotherexasperatedgroanfromhim.Hepickedupthepace,andIknewhewaslosingit.Losingthepreciouscontrolhevaluedsomuch.Thethingthatkepthimfromtakinghisownwifetobed.Igrabbedoneofhishands,puttingitonmybreast,andclutchedthewristofthehandhestillusedtoshutmeup,lickinghisfingersonebyonelikethelollipopIhadinmymouthearliertoday,suckingeachofthemindividually.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Theorgasmuncurledinthepitofmystomach,warmandsweet.Itslithereddowntomylegs,uptomychestandarms.Desirelickedeveryinchofmyflesh.Mymusclestightened.Thenheletoutaharshgrowl,grabbedthebackofmythighs,andbeganplowingintomesohardandfast,Ithoughthewasgoingtotearmeapart.
“Cillian,”Icriedout,clawingatthemarble.Heflattenedmeagainstthesurface,threwmylegsoverhisshoulders,andpoundedintomeharder,penetratingmedeeper,thehandthatlaydormantonmybreasttrekkinguptomyneck,grabbingitinavicioushold.
Finally.Outofcontrol.
HeinvadedmelikeaRomanarmywitharuthlessnessthatrobbedmeofmybreath,hisholdbruisingmyneck,hishatredtowardbothofusatthatmomentscorchingmysoul.
Ifelthishotcumshootinginsideme,theviolentripplesrollingthroughhismuscledbodybetweenmylegs.
Hisheadfloppeddown,hisfacenestledbyhisshoulder,turnedawayfrommelikeawiltedroseonastem.Iletmyheaddropbacktothegranite,laughingdrunkenly.
Ididit.
Imadehimfeel.
Pleasureattheveryleast,butalsoangerandfrustrationanddisgust.
Acoldwhooshofairstrokedthedampspotbetweenmylegs.Ipoppedmyeyesopen,realizingmyhusbandwasnolongerinthekitchen.
Heleft.
Straighteningupandsittingdown,Iblinked.
“Cillian?”Ilookedaround.
Mortified,Itiedthebackofmydress,putonmyjacketandpanties,andstumbledoutofthekitchen,huntingformyhusband.
Hishousewasmassive,boastingcurvedhallways,dozensofdoors,andastairwayleadingtoasecondfloor.Itwasonlymysecondtimeinside.Naturally,I’dnevergottenanofficialtour.
IspottedPetarbytheentrance,talkingtoaguyinkhakipantsandabluehoodiewithamaintenancecompanynameonit.Theywereheadingtowardthekitchen.Feelinglikeathief,ItiptoedupthecurvedstairwaybeforePetarspottedme.Thesecondfloorwaswideandtalllikeacathedral.Cillian’shouse,muchlikehisparents’,wasmoreold-worldluxurythanthemodern,kitschypadsyousawonSellingSunset
Iworkedmywaythroughtherooms,pushingeachdooropenhalfwayuntilIreachedapairofdoubledoorsthatwerepresumablyhisroom.Ipressedmypalmovertheoak,notwantingtointrude,buthatingtoleavewithoutasenseofclosure,either.Thiswashuge.Wejusthadsex.
“Kill?”
Noanswer.
“Areyouokay?”
Itoccurredtomethatmaybehewasn’t.MaybeIpushedhimtoofar,toofast
Maybeyoushouldn’thavelaughedlikeanut.
Pushingthedoorsopen,Iwanderedintotheroom.Itwasgorgeouslydesignedwithoff-whitefloorsandbeigewallscoveredwithfantasticart.Abalconybledintoanelaboratedreadingareaandanofficespacewithastrategicviewofthebackgarden.
Inoticedanothersetofcloseddoors.Thebathroom.Iwalkedovertothem.
IwasabouttocallhisnameagainwhenIheardit.Pounding.Adifferentkindofthrashing.Nothinglikethepoundingthathappeneddownstairs,inthekitchen,withbothofussweatyandangryanddesperate.
Itsoundedlikeaheadsmackingagainstthewallrhythmically.Laboredbreathsseepedfromthecrackunderthedoors.
Pressingmyforeheadtooneofthedoors,Iclosedmyeyes,takingadeepbreath.
“I’msorryIpushedyou,”Icroaked.AndIwas.ButIwasalsothrilledthatI’dmanagedtopullsomethingoutofhimthatwasn’tindifference.
Therewasnoanswer.
“Wouldyoulikemetogetyouaglassofwater?MaybecallPetar?”
Thetap-tap-tapstopped.Asecondlatercamehisvoice.
“Leave.”
“Idon’twanttoleavelikethis.”Iwringedmyfingersinmylap.“Yourfriendsareabouttobehere,andI—”
“Leave!”heroaredlikeabeast.
Takingastepback,Iglaredatthecloseddoors.IntheeightyearsI’dknownmyhusband,he’dneverraisedhisvoicetoanyone.Notevenonce.
Hethrewthedoorsopen,stalkingoutside,lookinglikethedevilhimself.Hiseyesweredarkandhard,thesnarlonhisfacemakingchillsrolldownmyspine.Hehadabustedlip,bloodgushingoutofit.
Sincehedidn’tletmetouchhim—kisshim,embracehim—IdeducedIwasn’tresponsibleforit.
Hedidthattohimself
Hehithimself.
Headvancedtowardme,quickandefficient.Itripped,nearlyfallingtwicewhiletryingtoescapehim.
“Yougotwhatyouwanted.Nowgetoutofmyhouseanddon’tcomebackuntilIcallforyou.Ifyoudon’tgetoutofhereinthenextfiveminutes,I’llassumeyouwanttoseeyourhusband’struecolorsandgetfuckedinfrontofmyfriendsonthepokertable,slowlyandallevening,whiletheywatch.”
HestoppedwhenIwascornered,flatagainsthiswall.WeweresocloseIcouldsmellthesexonbothofus.Cilliangrabbedmyneck.Ifeltthetenderringsthathadalreadyformedarounditfromwhenwehadsex.
“Youthinkyouescapedabadrelationshipbymarryingme.”HeflashedmehisLucifersmirk.“Youhavenoidea,FlowerGirl.Ipaythembecausefuckingmeisnotapleasure,it’sajob.Now”—heleanedclose—“run.”
Idid.
Ifledbeforehecaughtmeanddidallthethingshethreatenedto.
Boltingdownthestairs,Itookthemtwoatatime.IcrashedintoPetaronmywayout,clutchinghisshirtbreathlessly.
“Canyoucallmeacab?Please?”Myfingersshookaroundthecollarofhisshirt.“I’llgetthedriver.”Hiseyesbulgedout.
Hewassurprisedandalittleflusteredbymystate,shovingmeoutthedoorasthoughhe,too,wasafraidmyhusbandwouldgettome.
ItwasonlywhenIwastuckedinanEscaladeonmywaybackhomethatmyheartslowedandmymindstartedworkingagain.
Myhusbandhadadeep,darksecretthatcouldruinhim.
Somethinghewasashamedof.
AweaknessI’dalmostunveiled.
Andtonight,Igotveryclosetofindingoutwhatitwas.
Itossedandturnedinmybedfortherestofthenight,goingthrougheveryemotioninthefeelingsbook.Iwasangry,scared,worriedsick,andvengeful.IhatedCillianforactingthewayhedid,butIalsoknewIplayedabigpartofit.He’dalwaysbeenmeanandsnarkywithmebutnevercruel.Ipushedhim,andhefelthunted.
Aninjuredanimalthrownintofight-or-flightmode.
Atextmessagelitthepitch-blackbedroom.Ireachedformynightstand,grabbingmyphone.ItpainedmethatIdidn’tevenconsideritcouldbefromhim.
Hunter:Yourhusbandisanasshole.
Me:TellmesomethingIdon’tknow.
Hunter:Allpolarbearsareleft-handed.Betyoudidn’tknowthat.
Hunter:Also,andrelatedly,yourhusbandisanassholewhocheckshisphoneeveryfiveseconds.Areyouguystexting?
Me:No.
Hunter:Weird.Healwayslogsoffduringpokernights.
Me:Canyoudomeafavor?
Hunter:Whatkind?I’mamarriedman.IknowKillisnowhereneartherealmsofmyperfection,alas,youmissedthetrain.
Me:A—delusional.AndB—notevenifyouwerethelastmanonearth.
Hunter:What’sthefavor?
Me:Keepaneyeonhim.Seethatheisokay.
Hunter:Andyoucarebecause…?
Me:Heismyhusband.
Hunter:Ithoughtthatwasonlyonpaper.
Me:Youthoughtwrong.
Hunter:Otherthanthephoneshit,helookslikethesameoldKilltome.Chain-smoking,drinkingdevilwhoneedsagoodhugandagreatfuck.
Me:Night.
Hunter:Obvs,silly.x
Cillianhadmanagedtoovercomewhateveritwasthathappenedtohiminlessthananhour.Thatwaspeculiar.Andalarming.ButatleastIknewhewasremorsefulenoughtocheckhisphoneforamessagefromme.
Guiltwasafeeling,afterall.
Unlessheischeckingitforwork-relatedstuff.
Whendawnbrokeoverthesky,Ipaddedtomyterracebarefoot,relishingtheheatedfloorboardsandextravagantFrenchdoors.Lookingoutside,Ispottedalonecloudsailingnorth.
“WhatdoIdo,AuntieTilda?”Iwhispered.
Shedidn’tanswer.
Ipickedupmyphonetotypemysisteratext.AskherifsherememberedthedayswhenAuntietookustothecarnival.Howdeliriouswithjoywewere.
Tomysurprise,therewasamessagewaitingforme.
Amessagefromanumberthathadyettoansweralltwenty-seventextmessagesIhadsentitwhileIplannedourmutualwedding.
Cillian:Itwon’thappenagain.
EventhoughIknewexactlywhathemeant,Idecidedtopresswhereithurt.Lurehimoutofhiscavealittlemore.
Me:Thesexpart,orthepartthatcameafterit?
Cillian:ThepartI’mnotproudof.
Whatwashedoingawakeatfive?Maybehehadtroublesleepingafterlastnight,likeIdid.
Isatonareclineronthebalcony,rubbingatmyforehead.
Me:Stilldoesn’tanswermyquestion.
Cillian:Myoutburstwasoutofline.
Knowinghe’dbeenpushedfarenough—I’dneverheardmyhusbandapologizetoanyone—Ichangedthesubject.
Me:MyAuntieTilda,theonewhochosemyname,toldmethateverytimeIseealonecloudinthesky,sheiswatchingme.There’sonlyonecloudoutsidenow.
Afterputtingmyphoneonthetablebytherecliner,Istoodandwentaboutmymorning.Brushedmyteeth,curledmyhair,andgotdressed,knowingtherewasnochancemyhusbandwasgoingtogracemewithananswer.
WhenIreturnedtothebalconytable,afterflickingthecoffeemachineon,Inoticedmycellscreenwaslitwithanincomingmessage.
Cillian:Areyouondrugs?SobrietywasnotapartofourcontractualagreementonlybecauseIassumeditwasagiven.
Snortingoutalaugh,Itypedback.
Me:Lookoutside.Doyounotseeit?
Cillian:Yourdeadauntonacloud?No.
Me:SheisnotONit.SheISit.Letmesendyouapic.
Iraisedmyphonetothewindow,snappedapictureoftheperfectlyfuzzycloud,andsentitovertohim.
Me:Well?
Cillian:Nicetomeetyou,Persephone’saunt.Youtwolooknothingalike.
Me:Whoisbeingcutenow?
Cillian:Me,apparently.
Me:Don’tworry,Iknowyou’reincapableofanythinggoodandmoral.Havingasenseofhumorwon’ttarnishyourwickedness.
Cillian:Isthatahint?
Me:Whatdoyoumean?
Cillian:TheArcticdrilling.
DidIhatetheideaofhimdrillingholesinsidetheArctictoseeifhecanfindoil,ruininganalreadyfragilepartoftheworld?OfcourseIdid.Itmademesicktomystomach,tothinkthemanIlovedanddirectlyprofitedfromdidthat.ButIalsorecognizedtalkingaboutitwithhimnow,whenwewerestartingout,wouldn’tmakehimmoveaninch.Ifanything,he’dprobablydrillinafewmoreplacesjusttospiteme.
Me:It’snotahint.Ithinkmypositiononthematterisclear.
Cillian:BatteriesoverSUVs.
Igrinned,rememberingthesextoysinnuendohe’dmadeathisofficeyesterdayafternoon.
Me:Correct.
Cillian:Lookatyourgarage,FlowerGirl.
Imademywaydownstairstothebuildinggarage.
Sureenough,therewasabrandnewredTeslasittingonmyapartment’sallottedspot.
Heboughtmeacar.
Anelectriccar.
Thetypeofvehiclethatwassupposedtoputhimoutofbusinesseventually.
Notmissingwhatitmeant,Itypedmyhusbandareplywithshakyfingers.
Me:Thankyou.
Cillian:Batteriesareforpussies.Imanagedtosuccessfullyavoidmywifefortherestoftheweek.
Thatdidnotstopherfromsendingmedailytextmessagesaboutherdeadaunthidingincloudseverytimetheskywasclear.
Themessages,likemyprayerstohaveasanewife,remainedunanswered.
Shehadsuggestedwemeetupafewtimes,despitetheradiosilenceonmyend
Thethoughtofseeingheragaindisgustedme,soIdecidednottoconsiderituntilIcooleddown.
Butsevendaysin,andmytraitorousbodymadenosignofsettlingdown.
Thememoryofherwrithingbeneathmeburnedhotteratnight.
Statisticallyspeaking,limitingourencounterstoonceaweekwouldstillensureapregnancywithinthenextfewmonths.
Tobeonthesafeside,I’dcreatedachartwithherpotentialovulatingdatesanddecidedtoalternatethedaysinwhichIsawhereachweekinordertocoverallthebases.ButIknewnexttimewemet,Iwouldhavetodoabetterjobatreelinginthemonsterinsideme.
Nopartofmehadmeanttolosecontrolthefirsttimewehadsex,butwhenIsawhernakedtitsbouncingtotherhythmofmythrustsandherpink,O-shapedmouthhangingopenindesire,I’dlosttheself-possessionI’dclungtolikeadesperateBeliebermeetinghertattooed,acne-riddenheroandcameapart.
Iblamedherforthemishap.ShewastheonewhoinsistedIstopvisitingmysidepiecesanddeprivedmeofachancetoridmyselfofmyanimalisticnature.
Luckily(andIusedthattermveryloosely),Ihadnotimetothinkaboutmybride.IhadashitstormtoprepareforintheformofAndrewArrowsmith.
Uponfilingthelawsuit,Arrowsmithhadsentmeaformalletterthroughhislawyers,accusingmemoreorlessofsingle-handedlyruiningplanetEarth.Hehadmadesuretheletterwouldleaktothepress,andallthepositivenewsI’dgarneredsincemarryingPersephone,akaLittleAngelBabyJesus,wentdownthedrain.
Andrewdidn’tstopatthat.Blinditemsaboutapowerful,Boston-basedCEOvisitingEuropeanprostitutesbegantopopuplikemushroomsaftertheraininthetabloids,andIhadnodoubthewastheonewhofedthejournaliststhesepieces.
Hehadmefollowed.
Didhishomework.Uncoveredmysecrets.Allofthem.
WhichwaswhyI’ddecidedtogatherDevon,Sam,andHunteronmyranchforaweekendofbrainstorming,horseriding,andplanningthedemiseofmyarchnemesis.
Bonuspoints:goingtotheranchwouldputsomemileagebetweenPersephoneandme.
Wewereinmycar,headingoutofBoston,whenDevonsaidaloudwhatSamandIwerethinking.
“I’msurprisedHunteragreedtospendanentireweekendawayfromhismissus.”HewasinthepassengerseatnexttomewhileHunterandSamsatintheback.
“WhatcanIsay?I’mfullofsurprises.”Hunterslouchedback,grinning.
“Andshit,”Samspatout.
“Andyourself.”Devonsmirkedcockily.
Frostcoveredthenarrow,windingroad,thesameshadeasmywife’seyes.
“Dev,canyoucheckKill’stemperature?”Hunternudgedthebackofhisseat.“Hejustmissedachancetoslagmeoff,asyourpeoplecallit.It’sunlikehim.”
“Veryfewthingswouldmakemetouchyourtwatofabrother,andyouaredefinitelynotonthelist,”Devonquipped.
Onceweparkedoutsidetheranch,mystableboysshotoutofthebarnlikebulletstohelpuswithoursuitcases.
Ignoringtheirtoddler-likeblabbing,IremovedmyleatherglovesasImademywayintothemaincabin.IstoppeddeadinmytrackswhenInoticedSailor’sPorscheCayenneparkedinfrontofthedoor.Ishotmybrotheradirtylook.
Heraisedhispalmsinsurrender.
“Inmydefense,youshouldn’thavetrustedme.Ican’tstaycelibateforanafternoon,letaloneanentireweekend.Everyoneknowsthat.”
SamflickedthebackofHunter’sheadashemarchedinmydirectionwithhisduffelbagslungoverhisshoulder.
Ididn’thavetoaskHunterifheextendedhisinvitationtohiswife’sfriendsandoursister.Thesewomenwereattachedbythehip.
IwasgladIdidn’tcarewhatPersephonethoughtaboutmyperformanceinthesackbecauseshewassuretoshareherfinalscorewithherBFFs.
Disinterestedincomingface-to-facewithmywife,IdisposedmybagwithHunterandheadedstraightforthestables.
Checkingonmyhorses,Ifedandbrushedtheircoats,thentookthemout,onebyone,andcleanedtheirhooves.Isatonabarrel,mybackfacingthecabin,andgotrightdowntoit,stillinmypeacoatandeighteenkaratFcufflinks.
TheairturnedchillybythetimeIheardthesoftsoundofhaycrunchingunderboots.
Secondslater,shestoodinfrontofme,nexttothehorseIwastendingto,wearingayellowdressthatcomplementedherblondhair.
Shelookedlikeaswanwithherlong,delicateneck,andherheadtilteddowninelegantresignation.
Mygazehardenedonthehorse’shoof.
“What’shisname?”Sheputagentlehandonitsback.Thesweetnessofherskindriftedintomynostrils,evenundertheoverwhelmingstenchofthestables.
“Washington.”Iraisedthehoofpick,pointingitatthestallsbehindhim.“TherestoftheserascalsareHamilton,Franklin,Adams,Jefferson,Madison,andJay.”
“TheFoundingFathers.”Shesashayedtothebarn,leaningagainstitswallwithherhandstuckedbehindherback,watchingme.
“Congratulations,youjustpassedathird-gradehistoryexam.”IpattedWashington’sthigh,signalinghimtoraisehisotherleg.
“Fifth,”shecorrectedwithagrin.Shewasalwayshappytosparwithme.
“Istudiedabroad,”Imuttered.AllmyAmericanhistorystudiesweregiventomebytutors.
“Iknow,”shesaidsoftly.“Unlikeourchildren,whowillbestayingrightnexttousuntiltheyareoldenoughtomakeuptheirmindsaboutwheretheywanttostudy.”
Uh-huh.Youkeeptellingyourselfthat,sweetheart.
“Overyourdeadbody,huh?”Igroaned,diggingdeeperintothehoofwiththepick.
“No,”shesaidcalmly.“Overyours.”
Mygazeshotuptohers,beforereturningtomywork.
“That’salotofhorsesforoneman,”mywifecommented.“They’rebeautiful,butsomeofthemseemquiteold.Gray-faced.Doyourideallofthem?”
“Yes.They’reallinpristinecondition.”
Idroppedthepick,thengrabbedthebrushandmoveditoverWashington’shoof.
“MyfathergiftedmeahorseforeveryyearIfinishedtopofmyclass,startinginmiddleschool.”
Shestrodeovertome.
“Isn’tbeingperfectallthetimetiring?”Herhandwasonmyshouldernow.Mymusclesflexed.Ifocusedonmytask.
“Whatkindofquestionisthat?”
“OneI’dlikeananswerto.”
“Isbeingaverageboring?”
“No,”shereplied,notraceofbitternessinhervoice.“Thenagain,Idon’tthinkI’mboringatall.IthinkI’mexactlywhoIwassupposedtogrowuptobe,flawsandall.Myparentsalwaysencouragedmetopursuemydream,andmydreamwastoraisechildren.Otherpeople’saswellasmyown.”
“Well,Ienjoyedtheoppositetreatment.Everythingaboutmyarrivalinthisworldwascarefullyplanned.Icamefirst,andIwasmale,whichmeanttheexpectationsfrommewerecompleteandutterperfectioninallaspectsofmylife.IknewIwasgoingtocarrytheFitzpatrickbloodline,takeoverRoyalPipelines,continuethelineage.Myexistencehasalwayshadapurpose,andnothingshortofexcellencewilldo.”
“You’renotperfectwithme.”
“Whatyouwitnessedlastweekwaslackofdiscretion.”Icrackedmyknuckles.“Itwasn’tpretty.”
“No.Butwe’realluglyincertainparts,andI’mstillhere.”
BecauseIpaidforyou.
“Comeinside.”Sheranahandovermyhair,likeamotherwould.Ifnothingelse,shewasgoingtobegoodforourchildren.BetterthanJaneeverwas.“Food’sready.”
Itookherhandanddroppeditgently.
“Nothungry.”
“Whereareyougoingtosleeptonight?”
“Themasterbedroom.”
“WhereamIgoingtosleeptonight?”
“Anyofthesixguestrooms.Iownthisplace,soyougetfirstchoice.”
“Ichooseyourbedroom,”shesaidwithoutmissingabeat.
“Firstchoiceotherthanmybed,”Iclarified.
“Ourfriendswilltalk,”shewarned.
“Theyhavetheirritatingtendencytodothat.Everyoneknowsoursisashammarriage.Noone’sgoingtobuyyourcharade.”Istood,leadingWashingtonbacktohisstall.
Afterlockingthestallbehindthehorse,Iturnedaround,watchingher.
Despitewhatshethought,Iwasdoingusbothafavor.Entertainingherneedtomakethisrelationshipfeelnormalwouldonlycausedisappointmentinthelongrun.EvenifIyieldedtothetemptationofsharingabedandtheoccasionalmealwithher,shewouldeventuallyoutgrowthedetachedarrangementIhadtoofferherandresentmeevenmore.
“Imadeamistakecominghere.”Shetiltedherfaceup,staringatthemoonunderastar-filledsky.Shewassogorgeousatthatmoment,souniquelyPersephone,thatIwantedtoignoreallthefacts,scoopherinmyarms,andfuckherallnight.
Watchingherfromasafedistance—farenoughtopreventbreathinginherdruggingscentortouchinghervelvetskin—Iagreed.
“Youdid.Iwillonlyhaveyouonmyterms,FlowerGirl.”
Mywifeturnedherheadtofaceme.
“Thatwasn’tapartofourcontract.”
Ihitchedupashoulder,givingherthesameanswershegavemewhenIcomplainedaboutouragreement.
“Sueme.”
“Thelawsuitisairtight.Ireadthroughitseveraltimes.”Devonpassedmeastackofpapersthenextdayovercoffee,omelets,andpastries.Wesatonthebackporch,watchingthehorsesgallopinthefield,warmingupaheadoftheday.
Iputmycoffeetomylips,skimmingthroughthem.
“I’vespentanunholyamountonmoneyontheArcticoffshoredevelopment.I’mnotcanningthisprojectbecauseArrowsmithhasahard-ontoseemegobankrupt.”
“Wewon’tgobankrupt,”Hunterinterfered,spooningfigjamtosmearitoverawarmcroissant.Myclownofabrotherhadagreedtoleavehiswifebehindforthedurationofthebreakfastsowecouldtalkshop.“Ilookedatthenumbers.StoppingthedrillingintheArcticisgoingtohurtourpocket,butwecantaketheblow.Thecapitalgrowthwillstopforthenextfouryears,butwewillstillbemakingmoney.”
“I’mnotheretomakemoney.I’mheretotakeovertheworld.”Iputmyfootdown.
“Youmightnothaveachoice,”Devonpushed.“Ifyoulosethelawsuit,you’dhavetostopanyway.Andhaveplentyoflegalbillstopay,anotherPRdisasteronyourhands,andafatherwho’dkickyououtoftheCEOposition,turntheboardagainstyou,andappointHuntertoruntheshow.Nooffense,Hunt.”
“Nonetaken.”Huntershrugged.“Idon’twanttobeCEO.Youknowwhatthiskindofpressurecandotomyskin?”Herubbedhisknucklesoverhisjaw.
“Wecanalwaysthinkoutsidethebox.Andbythat,ImeanputArrowsmithinone.”Samlitupacigarette,nottouchinganyofthefood.Idoubtedhecoulddigestsomethingthatwasn’tmeat,beer,andnicotine.
Devonsmiledpolitely.“I’veafeelingIdon’twanttobehereforthisconversation.Allowmetoexcusemyself,gentlemen.”Hestoodandwalkedbackintothecabin.
Samshotmeasidelongglance.Thebloodthirstybastardwasalwaysinthemoodforbreakingspines.
“Regretfully,youcan’tkillArrowsmith.Theblowbackwouldbehuge,allarrowswouldpointatme,andthemediawouldhaveafieldday.Nottomention,Arrowsmithhaschildren.”
“Whendidyougrowaconscienceandstartcaringaboutchildren?”Samasked
“Youhaven’tmetthelittledevils.Ifsomethinghappenstotheirparents,noonewouldwanttoadoptthem.”
“Fine.Hecanlive.Icanstillthrowmyweightaround.”
“Physicalextortionwon’tgetyoufar.”Idroppedthepapersonthetable.“He’sgotsomethingonme,andI’mwaitingtoseehowhe’sgoingtouseit.Weneedtoplaythiscarefully.”
“Whatdoeshehaveonyou?”Hunterleanedforward.“You’redisgustinglyperfect.Dad’sfuckingmoòrga.Whatcoulditpossiblybe?”
Ismiled.“Wehavetokeepitclean.Let’sleaveitatthat.”
“Inthatcase,I’mwithWhitehallontryingtosquashthatbeef,”Samadmitted,tossinghislighteronthetable.“Heisgoingaheadwiththelawsuit.Youcangethiminafewmonthswhenthingscalmdown.Inthemeantime,yourbestshotisfindingcommongroundwithGreenLiving.”
“Cillianwillnevercower.”Mybrothershookhishead.
“Retreatingisnotsubmitting.”Samstood.“IfKillwantstowinthisthing,hehastoplayitsmart.Thisisroundoneoutofmany.Historydoesn’trememberthebattle.Onlythenameofthemanwhothrewthefinalknockout.”
Samwasn’twrong.
Whathedidn’tknowwasthatAndrewArrowsmithwasthelastmantothrowthepunchbeforewepartedwaysmanyyearsago.
Andthistime?Iwasn’tgoingtostopuntilhesawstars.Myhusbanddidanadmirablejobofavoidingmefortheentirelengthofourfirstdayattheranch.
Hedodgedourmealstogether,escapedthewalkwealldidonthetrail,andspentlonghourswithhishorses.
WasIdisappointed?Yes.WasIgoingtoletitruintheweekendforme?Hellno.Ihadn’tgoneonverymanytripsoutsideofBostoninmytwenty-sixyears,andthiswasagoldenopportunitytohavefunwithmyfriends.
ForthefirsttimesinceI’dmarriedPaxton,Iwasn’tbroke.Ididn’thavetolookovermyshoulderonthestreetforfearI’dbeambushed.Mylifetookaturnforthebetter,nomatterhowemptyithadstillfeltwithoutCillianfullyinit.
Thelastdayontheranch,Belleannouncedshewantedtohorsebackridewithjustusgirls.
“Butyoudon’tknowhowtoride.”Aislingtiltedherhead,foreverthevoiceofreason.
Belleshrugged,poppingacherryintohermouthoverthebreakfasttable.
“So?Youcanteachme.Besides,I’vedonemyfairshareofridinginmylife,justnotbareback.”Shewinked.“Safetyfirst.”
“Thanksforruiningbreakfast.”SailorsalutedtoBellewithherorangejuice.
“Seriously,though,whogoestoaranchwithoutriding?”Bellewondered.
Mysisterhadapoint.
“Cillianwon’tlikeitifweusehishorses,”Ashwarned.
“Cilliandoesn’tlikeanything,”Isnapped,alittletooharshly.
Sailorsnortedintoherorangejuice.“Preach.Iactuallythinkit’sagreatidea.NotonlybecauseitwouldpissoffPersy’shusband,butalsobecauseanopportunitytoridehorseslikeCillian’sdoesn’tcomeoften.Eachofthemcostslike300korsomething.Unfortunately”—shepattedherroundingbelly—“ridingisoffthetableforme.ButI’llcheeryouonwithabagofCheetosinhand.Livevicariouslythroughyou.”
MyneedtostickitinKill’sfacewasgreaterthanmyfearofmountinga2,200-poundbeastthatcouldbreakmyneckwithonewrongmove.
“Actually,Iagree.Ithinkweshouldride,”Ichirped.
“Really?”Everyoneatthetableturnedtomeinsurprise.Iwasn’texactlyknownformyrebelliousstreak.Inodded.ItwashightimeItriednewthings.Andsincehavingagenuinerelationshipwithmyhusbandwasn’tgoingtobeoneofthem,whynottakeuphorsebackriding?
“ButCillian—”Ashstarted.
“I’llhandlehim.”Iraisedahandtostopher.“TellhimIheldyouatgunpointifitcomestoit.”
“Well,then.”Aislingclappedherhandstogether.“Let’sgetchangedandmeetatthestablesinanhour.”
Iwentthroughthemotionsofgettingchanged,thenmetAshandBelleoutsidethebarn.Aisling,who’dlearnedtoridelikehertwoolderbrothersfrominfancy,ledHamiltonoutofhisstallbyhisbridle,pattinghisbrowncoatwithasmile.
“He’sthesweetestoutofthebunch.HewasmytraininghorseafterIgraduatedfromponies.”
“Dang,Ash.That’sthewhitestthingI’veeverheard.”Bellecheckedherassinhertightridingtrouserswithherphonecamera.
AshledHamiltonoutofthestablesandcanteredwithhim.Sheexplainedtousthebasicanatomyofthehorse,thesignals,andwhattheyindicated.WebumpedintoHunter,Sam,andDevononourwayoutofthebarntothetrail.Thetrackwrappedaroundthesmokymountainlikearibbon.
Themenstrodeintothestablesjustaswegotout.
“You’reriding,too?”Aislingasked,turningtomato-redassoonasshenoticedSam.TruetohisSam-ness,heignoredherexistenceashebreezedpasther.
Hewasn’trudetohisbossandbestfriend’sbabysister.Buttherewasnodoubtheconsideredheroffthemenu.
“Bet.”Hunterfluffedherhair,poppinghisgum.“Where’smybetterhalf?”
“Inthecabin,reading.”
“Bomb.Theonlystudsheshouldbehangingoutwithwhilepreggersisme.Dev,canyouhelpBellegetonahorse?I’lldoPersy.”
“Idon’tneedanyhelp,”Belleprotested.
Devon’seyesranovermysisterasthoughshewashisfavoritedessertwhileasinistersmirktuggedathislips.
“Ilikeherfire,Hunt.”Devonjerkedhisthumbtowardmysister.
“Great,”shechirped,“becauseyou’reabouttogetthird-degreeburnsifyoukeepobjectifyingme.”
“He’snotobjectifyingyou.”Huntershookhishead.“He’stryingtokeepyoualive.Yourasshasneverriddenbefore.”
“WehaveAshtohelpus.”Isquatteddown,adjustingmyridingboots.
Ignoringmywords,HunterpickedmeupfromthegroundlikeIwasamilkcrate,carryingmetoHamilton.Heuntiedthereinsonthehorse,putmybootinthestirrups,andhelpedmeswingontothesaddle,holdingmywaist.
“Ashisgood,butshe’snotaprofessional.IfIbringyoubackwithasmuchasascratch,yourhusbandwillmakemebleedfromplacesthataren’tevenonmybody.”
“Heisright.”Aislingsmiledapologetically.“BothaboutmyhorsebackridingabilitiesandaboutKill.”
“Cillianignoresmyexistence.”
“You’restillhis,”Samcemented,businesslike.“Idon’tneedtobephysicallypresentinmycarinordernottowantsomeonetoscratchit.”
“TellmehedidnotjustsaywhatIthinkhesaid.”BellepointedatSam,scowling.
Samstoodtall,nonchalantasever.“Sodramatic,Penrose.”
“Sochauvinistic,Brennan.”
Aftermuchbickering,weheadedtothetrail.IshookwithanxietyandexhilarationeventhoughHunterwasridingclosetomeonJayandoftenleanedovertopatHamiltonandgivemevisualandverbalinstructions.
Behindus,BellewasonWashington,SamonMadison,AshonAdams,andDevononJefferson.DevonandBelleseemedtoovercometheinitialfrostiness.Theywerebanteringlikeoldfriends,hittingitoffinstantly,whileAislingtriedtostrikeupaconversationwithSamandgotslammedeachtime.
Twentyminutesintoascendingthetrailtothemountains.Iheardthegallopofahorsebehindus.Hunterturnedhisheadandgroaned,pointinghisfingertohistemplelikeitwasagun,cockingitandshootinghimselfwithacomicpoof!
“Don’ttellmeyoudidn’ttellyourhusbandyou’reriding.”
“Ididn’ttellmyhusbandIwasriding.”Istaredahead,ignoringtheprickleoffearpinchingmyspine.
Hunterdraggedahandoverhisface,tippinghisheadback.“God-fucking-dammit,Pers.”
God-fucking-dammitindeed.
Withinthreeseconds,CillianwasridingbymysideonFranklin,pushingHunteroutoftheway,forcinghimtoridebehindus.Everything,fromhisgoodlookstohisflawlessposture,botheredme.Hiseasymovementsputusalltoshame.
Hedidn’twearanyridinggear.Notevenahelmet.
Hedidwearanexpressionofsomeonewhowasdangerouslyclosetocommittingamassacre
“Thehelldoyouthinkyou’redoing?”Hiseyestapered,zoninginonmelikeaweapon.
“WhatdoesitlooklikeI’mdoing?”Iusedthesweetest,mostinnocentvoiceinmyarsenal.
“Pissingmeoff.”
“Thoughtyouwereabovehumanemotions.”
“Thisoneseemstobereoccurringeverytimeyou’rearound.Youfoundyourcalling.”
“Ha,”Igasped,“soIamgoodatsomething.AndhereyouthoughtIwasaverage.”
“Hunter.”Killsnappedhisfingersbehindhim,hishardstaregivingmycheekfrostbite.“We’resplitting.Leadthegrouptoanothertrail.I’llhelpPersephonegetbacktotheranch.”
“No,youwon’t,”Icountered,feelingabnormallyirritated.IwasthemellowestwomaninBoston—votedMostLikelytoReplaceMotherTeresainmyhighschoolyearbook—butsomehow,myhusbandmademefeelangrierthanPaxeverdideventhoughPaxhadscrewedmeoversohardI’dalmostdied.
“LastIchecked,it’safreecountry.I’mallowedtorideahorse,hubs.Whetheryoulikeitornot.”
“Thecountryisfree,butthehorsesarenot.Hamiltonbelongstome,andIdon’twantyouridinghim.Ceannbeag.”Killturnedtohisbrotheragain,snarling,“BeatitbeforeIbeatyou.”
“Sorry,doll.There’sareasonhehasademoninhisgardenfountainandnotacheruborafawn.YoumarriedSatan,andIdon’twantthefuckertoassignmearoominhell.He’llprobablyputmeinthesamecul-de-sacwithHitlerandthedudewhoinventedberry-flavoredLaCroix.Ideservebetterneighbors.Justfollowingorders.”Hunterpushedtwofingersintohismouthandwhistled,redirectingourfriendstoasidetrail,leavingCillianandmeonthemainone.
Lavasimmeredinmybelly.Everyinchofmybodycharredwithhumiliation.
Howdarehescoldmepubliclyafteravoidingmetheentireweekend?
Ourentiremarriage?
Inthebackofmyhead,somethingelsealsobuggedme.Somethingcompletelytrivial.
Cillianhadademon-shapedfountaininhisgarden,butIhadn’tseenitbefore.NoteventhedayPetarsnuckmeintothehouseforatourwhenKillwasn’thome.
“I’mgettingyouoffthishorse,”hesaidmatter-of-factly.
“Whydon’twestartwithyoujustgettingmeoff?Youseemtobehavingtroubleinthatdepartment,”Ihissedout.
“ThefirstandlasttimeItouchedyou,youcamesohardIwasworriedmydickwouldhavetoberemovedfromyousurgically.”
“Thatwasaccidental.”Allthebloodrushingtomyfacemademehotandsweaty.
“Sowasmygivingyouanorgasm.”
“Youreallywantmetohateyou,don’tyou?”
Ididn’tknowwhatIexpectedwhenImarriedhim,butitdefinitelywasn’tthis.Thehermeticresistancenoonecouldpierce.
“Sailorisnotriding,”hepointedout.
“Sailorispregnant.”
“Asfarasweknow,youcouldbe,too.”
Histemperwasfrayed,andIcouldn’tfigureoutwhy.I’dstayedwellawayfromhimtheentireweekend.Whatelsedidhewant?Heseemedtobeputoffbymyexistence,andIwasgrowingtiredofit.
“IfIampregnant,it’sataveryearlystage.”
“Allthemorereasontobecareful.”
“Oh,forfuck’ssake,Kill.Don’tgivemethisbullshitasthoughyouactuallycareaboutmywell-being.”Myvoicecracked,andIturnedtofacehim,momentarilyforgettingIwasonahorse.
Hisnostrilsflared,andheletgoofhisreintopophisfingers.
“Donotcurse.”
“Orelse?”Mychinfeltwobbly,muchlikemyinsides.Mygriponthereinstightened.“What’reyougonnadoaboutit?You’realreadytheworstpossiblehusbandawomancouldhave.”
Thatwasn’texactlytrue,seeingasPaxwasthereigningchampionofWorstHusbandforthiscalendaryear,butIwantedtohurthimback.Tomakehimfeelthewayhemademefeel.
“Bytheway,arewegoingtohavesexonceamonthandprayIgetknockedup?How’rewegoingtodothisthing?PleaseletmeknowbecauseI’mstartingtorealizeyouhaven’tthoughtyourgeniusplanthrough!”
Myvoicecarriedwithanechothatricochetedonthetreetops,shakingthegroundbeneathHamilton’shooves.
Hushedmurmursseepedfromtheparalleltrailourfriendsweretaking.
“…mysister!”
“…canholdherown.”
“IsweartoGod,ifhehurtsher…”
“She’llhurthimback.Yousaidityourself,Belle.She’snotakidanymore.”
Ourfriendswerearguingwhethertostepinornot.
Noweveryoneknewwewereamess,andwhateverwasleftofmyhopetomakethismarriageresemblenormalcyflewoutthewindow.
“You’rebeingabrat,”Cilliansaidcoolly,regaininghiscomposure.
“You’rebeingacoward.”Myteethchatteredwithfury.
Hamiltonstirredbeneathme,hisstridesjerkyanduneven.Iranahandovermyface.“Seriously,ifyou’regoingtoignoremefortherestofourlives,justgrantmeadivorce.I’llpayyoubackthemoney,andwe’llforgetthiseverhappened.”
“Never.”Histoneturnedsteely.Punishing.“I’llgiveyoualotofthings,FlowerGirl,butdivorcewon’tbeoneofthem.”
“Thatso?I’lltellSailor,Belle,andHunter.I’msurethey’dlovetoknowwhatyouropedmeinto.”
“Goahead.”Hetappedthesideofhisboottohishorse,makingitgofaster.“Seehowmuchpowerotherpeoplehaveonme.You’llfindtheexactamountisabsolutelynone.”
“Soyouwon’thaveme,butyouwon’tletmego.Doyoujustwantmetobemiserablelikeyou?”
Hisnostrilsflared.Helookedlikehewasabouttosaysomething,butofcoursehedidn’t.Heneverdid.Heneverexplainedhimselftome.
“Ihateyou,”Iscreamed,andwithoutthinking,stompedmyfoottothehorse’sside.Hamiltonboltedforwardinarage.BeforeIknewwhatwashappening,Iwasflailingabovethehorse,mybodysuspendedoverthesaddle,bumpingagainsthissidesashesprinted.Iyelped,tryingtograbthereins,myfingersgraspingair.
Shit,shit,shit.
Ilookedback.Myheartwasinmythroat.I’dascendedthemountainfarenoughthatIknewifIfellfromHamilton,I’drolldownafewdozenfeetandgetseriouslyhurt.Breakaboneortwo,attheveryleast.
Killrodebesideme,fastandfurious,barkinginstructionsatme,butIcouldn’thearhimoverthewindandtheadrenalinebuzzingbetweenmyears.
Hamiltonhalted,slopingonhisrearlegswithaneigh,throwingmeoffhisback.
Itippedoverandflewintheair,squeezingmyeyesshutandbracingmyselfforthefall.Asudden,harshjerkthrewmebackupandoverahorse,mymidriffsmashingagainstasaddle.
Forasecond,IthoughtImanagedtoclimbbackontopofHamilton,butwhenIopenedmyeyes,IsawIwasperchedonFranklin,mybodyslungacrosshisbacklikeapotatosack.
Cillianwasn’tonFranklinanymore.
Iheardahissandcranedmynecksideways.Killwasbehindme,sittingontheground.Hegotup,notbotheringtocleanhimselfashedartedinourdirection,puttinghisfingersinhismouthandwhistlingforFranklintostop.
Cillianlimpedbutpickeduphispaceinordertoreachus.
Thehorseslowedtoagradualstop,dutifullywaitingforhisowner.Killstoppedwhenhereachedus.Hegrabbedmywaistandhoistedmedown,makingsurebothmyfeetwereonthegroundbeforeheeasedhisgrasponme.
Icollapsedagainstmyhusband,shiveringuncontrollably.
“OhGod,ohGod,ohGod,”Ikeptmumbling.
IgatheredKill’sface,examininghim.Hisentireleftcheek,includingthetempleandneck,wasscratchedandbloodied.Hehitthegroundface-firstwhenhethrewhimselfoffhisownhorseandflungmeoveritinordertosaveme.
Therealizationslammedintome.
Myhusbandsavedme.
Putmysafetyinfrontofhisown.
Withoutgivingitasecondthought.
Hewasbleeding,limping,hisexpensiveclothesruinedandtorn.
HelookedatmeasthoughhewastakinginventoryandmakingsureIwasokay.Hissmoky,ambereyesdartedfrommyfacetomyshoulders,downmybody,thenupagaintomyneck,arms,andfingers.
Aftereverythingthathappened,hewascheckingonme
Insteadofthankinghim—thesane,grown-upthingtodo—Iburstintochildishtears,droppingmyheadtohisshoulder,clutchinghisshirtlikehewasgoingtofadeintosmoke.
“Fuck,”hesaidgruffly.ItwasthefirsttimeI’dheardhimcurse,andforsomestupidreason,itmademyheartsing.Hepattedthebackofmyheadawkwardly.
“Now,now…uh.”
Hedidn’tknowwhattosay.Hewantedtocomfortmebuthadneverdoneitbefore.
“You’renothurt,”hesaidsteely.Robotically.“Ichecked.”
“Butyouare.”Mytearskeptrolling.
“I’llsurvive,muchtosomepeople’sdismay.”Hebrushedmyflyawayswithhisthumbs,wipingmyfacecleanbeforerestinghisbloodiedcheekontopofmyhead.Hisotherhandranalongmyback.“Shhh.Itwasjustalittlescare.You’refine.”
“That’snotthepoint!You’renotfine!”
Iwaswailing—full-blownwailing—andtherewasnothinghecoulddotostopme.Sohedidn’t.Heletmefallapartinhisarms,holdingmetogether.
“I-Idon’tevenknowwhatIdidwrong.AshsaidHamiltonisyourbesthorseforrookies.”
RealizingIwasn’tinastatetorideback,hesankdowntothegrass,takingaseatwhileIwasinhislap,myarmsloopedaroundhisshoulders.
Franklinstoodbyourside,eyeinguscuriouslywhilegrazing.
“Youdidn’tdoanythingwrong.Hamiltonhashadabadcoupleofyears.Hehadswellinginhisrearlegsanddidn’tgetmuchridingtime.Whenwinterhit,hewasdownforthecount.IknewIneededtore-breakhimcomespring.Hewasn’treadyforriding.WhenIsawyouonhimwithoutahelmet…”Heshookhishead,closinghiseyesashetookaraggedbreath.“I’mgoingtodismemberHunterandfeedhimtothepolarbearsheissodesperatetosave.”
“Hunterdoesn’tliketheArcticdrilling,either?”Ihiccupped,surprised.
“Don’tstart,”hewarned.
“Fine.Butyoushouldknowitwasmyideatoride.”Iputmyhandonhischest,feelinghisheartriotingincontrasttohiscarefullyblankstare.HeheldmegentlyasthoughIwasapreciousthinghedidn’ttrusthimselfnottobreak.
“Hunterscrewedthisup.Hedidn’tgiveHamiltonenoughtimetogetacquaintedwithyou.Smellyou.Feelyou.”
“Hewasbymysidetheentiretime.”Mytremorsweresubsiding,butIstillheldontohimtighter.“It’snothisfault.It’snoone’sfault.”
Well,Imean…itwaskindofmyfault.
AndbykindofImeanttotally.
ButIwasn’tgoingtoadmitthatandgivemyhusbandammoagainstme.
Itrailedmythumbalongthecutonhisforehead.Whilehedidn’tneedstitches,hedefinitelyshouldsterilizetheareatomakesureitdidn’tgetinfected.Mudandbloodcakedhistemple.
“Yousavedme,”Isaidquietly.“Again.”
Thefirsttimewasthebleedingheartflowers.
ThesecondwasByrneandKaminski.
ThiswasthethirdtimeKillkeptmealive,despitemyunfortunatetalenttofindmyselfinlife-threateningsituations.
“You’remywife.”Hetaperedhiseyesasthoughthereasonwasobvious.
“Youdon’tactlikeIam,”Iwhispered.“We’renotanormalcouple.”
“No,”heagreed.“We’renot.”
Iwaitedforhimtoelaborate,butapparently,thatwasthesumofit.Ilookedaround,changingthesubject.
“Where’sHamilton?”
“Aquestionoftheages.I’llgiveyouaridehome,thengolookforhim.YoustaywithSailorandtrytostayalivewhileI’mgone.”
Hegotupswiftly,helpingmebackonmyfeet.
Theridebackwassilent.ItextedSailorthatwewereonourwayandaskedhertohaveafirst-aidkitready.Whenwegotback,Sailorwaswaitingforusoutsidewithwaterbottlesandamedi-kit.Cillianignoredher,dismountingFranklinandputtingmedownbackonthegroundgently.
“Youlooklikeshit.”Sailoreyedmyhusband.
“Youaren’texactlymytype,either,”Killdrawleddryly,placingmeinfrontofherlikeapieceoffurniture.“Makeyourselfusefulanddrawherabath.Don’tletheroutofyoursight.She’seasytoforgetandhardtokeepalive.”
Hegotbackonthehorse,ridingawaywithoutsparingeitherofusaglance.
Sailordirectedhergreeneyesatme,bitingbackasmile.
“Nothingaboutthissituationisfunny.”Idroppedontoanearbyrocker,flinginganarmovermyeyeswithasigh.
“Oh.”Shesatonthearmoftherocker,rubbingmyarm.“Butofcourseitis.”
“Pleaseenlightenme.”
“Youmadeyourhusbandshitbricks,dude.”Sailorslidintomylap,pullingmeintoacrushinghug,gigglinguncontrollably.“Youshould’veseentheassholewhenItoldhimyouguyswentriding.Helookedreadytosmashsomeskulls.Someone’sgotitbadforyou.KillandPersyaresittinginatree.F-U-C-K-I-N-G.”
Shewaswrong.
Killdidn’twantme.
HewantedwhatIcouldgivehim.
Ilaughed,lettingthestingofthetruthrolloffmyshoulders.
Itiltedmyheaduptothesky,prayingtofindAuntieTilda.
Itwasfullofclouds.
Twohourslater,Belle,Aisling,Devon,andSamwereback.
Myfriendshurriedtomyroom,gushingaboutmybanged-uphusband(“CowboyCunt-sa-nova,”asBellereferredtohim).Howhefoundhishorseonthetopofthemountainandrodeitbacktotheranch.
“Letmetellyou,Ithinkcowboysarelibidorepellents,butsomehow,watchingKillridinganunrulystallionchangedmymind.”Bellefellontomybed,sighing.
Ielbowedmysister.“Watchit.It’smyhusbandyou’retalkingabout.”
Ashrolledhereyes,ploppingontothemattressbesideus.“Don’tworry,BelleistoobusytryingtofigureouthowtodragDevonWhitehallintoherbedtothinkaboutyourhusband.”
Wegroup-hugged,mesqueezedinthemiddle.Iturnedtomysister,poppingmyeyebrows.
“Oh,yeah?Idon’tthinkyou’llneedtosweatit.Themanwasalloveryoulikearash.”
“He’ssuchadeliciousflirt,”Bellegroaned,throwingherheaddownonmypillow.
“WhataboutyouandSam?”IturnedtoAsh.“Anyprogress?”
“Ifit’snotgoingtohappenthisyear,it’snotgoingtohappenatall.”Ashsmiledsadly.
Irubbedherarm.“I’msorry.”
Thedinnerbeforewedrovehomewasdelightful.Itconsistedofbacon-potatocornchowder,friedchicken,andcornbread,allcookedfromscratchbySailor.Fordessert,sheservedrhubarbtartandapeachcobbler.
“AnyoneelsewantstocomplainabouthowIinvitedthegirlsover?”Hunterwiggledhisbrowsbehindhiscoffeecup.Hehadthreeservingsofthecobbleraloneandshovedenoughfooddownhisthroattolastaweek.
“How’dyoulearntocookandbakelikethat?”Devonsuckedonateaspoon,regardingSailorwithnewfoundrespect.
“Ourmomisoneofthebestcooksandbakersintheworld.”
SailorputherhandonSam’sforearm.
“Thebest,”Samcorrected.
IsatnexttoCillian,smilingandnodding.Webothstaredatourfriendsastheydriftedinandoutofeasyconversation,firsttalkingabouttheBrennans’manyrestaurants,thenaboutsports,andthedisastrousstormyweatherthatstilltoreintoBostonwithitssharptalons.
IknewIhadtoputmybiggirlpantsonandthankmyhusbandproperly,notjustfortoday,butforeverythingelsehe’ddoneforme.Iwaswalkingthetightropebetweenwantingtoignorehisexistenceandrestoremywoundedego,andtakingametaphorichammertohiswalls,demolishingthemonebyone.
“Thanks,bytheway,”Isaidundermybreath,squeezinghishandunderthetable.
Heslippedhishandawayfrommine.Myheartbled.
Thisisgoingnowhere,andyouarelettinghimleadtheway,blindfolded.
“Whatfor?”
“TakingcareofByrne.Payingmydebt.Gettingmeadivorce.SavingmefromHamilton’swrath.Ineversaidthankyou,andIshouldhave.”
“It’sapartofouragreement.”
“Youtakingcareofmeoravoidingme?”
“Both.”
Iopenedmymouthtotellhimsomething.Iwasn’tevensurewhat,whenHunterthrewapokerchipinourdirection,hittingmyhusband’sshoulder.
“Moòrga,areyouinorareyouout?”
“In.”Killdrewacigarfromabox,clippingitscapbeforelightingitup.
Hunterbeganshuffling.“Andthemissus?”
“She’sout,”heansweredonmybehalf.
“Holyshit.”Bellecheckedherphone.“Lookatthetime.It’sthetwenty-firstcentury.Thatmeanswomencandowhateverthehelltheylikewithoutaskingtheirhusbands.”
Devongrinned,watchingmysisterwithopenadmiration.
“Youneededthephonetocheckwhatcenturyyou’rein?”Myhusbandpuffedonhiscigarcalmly.“Ithinkit’stimetolayoffthemimosas,sweetheart.”
“Mysisterisgoingtoplay.”Bellestubbedthetablewithherfinger,breathingfire.
“Wannabet?We’realreadyinagamblingmood.”
Cillianwasarranginghischipsneatly,notevensparingheralook.
Ididn’tevenknowhowtoplaypoker,sotheywerebothbeingstubbornlydumb.
“IsweartoGod,Kill—”
“Dropit.”Myhusbandraisedhisgazefromhischips.“Herexlostherentireworldlypossessionsinpoker.Thinkshewantstorelivethat,Einstein?”
Silencefelloverus.
HegatheredthecardsHunterdealtforhimwithashakeofhishead.
“Yeah.Thoughtso.”
“IfIwereher,I’dplayjusttospiteyou,”mysisterpersisted,thefireabsentfromhervoicenow.EveryoneatthetableplayedotherthanAshandme.
“That’swhyyou’renother.Whyshe’smarriedtoabillionaireandyou’rerunningastripclub,”Cilliansaiddispassionately,hisyellow-rimmedhawkeyesscanninghiscards.
“MadameMayhemisarespectableinstitution.Burlesqueisnotthesameasstripping,assface.”Belleblewaraspberry.
“Idoloveburlesque,”Devongroaned,shiftinginhisseat.
“You’dlovegenocideifEmmabelledidit,”Killdeadpanned.
“Stakes?”Samaskedaroundalitcigarette.“NotthatI’mnotentertainedbywatchingyouallbickeringlikeaflockofoldhens.”
“Sameasalways,”Killsaid.
“Likehelltheyare.Noteveryoneatthistablecanaffordthrowingabunchofmoneyonapokergame.”Belleslappedhercardsoverthetable.“I’mnotplayingforthousandsofdollars.”
“Wecanplayforless,”Sailorsuggestedmildly.
“Orstrippoker.”Huntergrinned.
“UnfortunatelyforEmmabelle,strippokerwouldalsoputheratapointofdisadvantage,consideringshe’swearingnothingmorethananapkin.”Myhusbandthrewanotherjabatmysister.
Belleworeaflimsyminidress,butdousingtheargumentbetweenthemseemedcounterproductive.Besides,didhereallythinkI’dlethimtalktoBellelikethat?
“Cillian,”Iwarnedpointedly.“Please.”
“You’reanasshole.”Mysisterdarteduponherfeet,pointingatKill.
“Andyou’restatingtheobvious.”Killyawned,ignoringme.“Howaboutwemakethisinteresting?Thestakesstaythesameasalways,seeingasyou’retheonlybrokepersonatthistable.Ifyoulose,I’llfootthebill.AndifIwin,”Killpaused,puffinghiscigarsmokeinherface,histauntingeyesholdingmysister’s,“IgetwhatIwantfromyou.”
Myheartplummetedtothepitofmystomachwithathudthatreverberatedinsidemybody.Thegreenclawsofjealousywrappedaroundmyneck.
HewantedsomethingfromEmmabelle.
Whywouldn’the?Shewastheinteresting,worldly,firecrackerone.
Whatwasheafter?
Herbody?
Herheart?
Istiffened,focusingonmybreaths,tellingmyselfnottokillhim.Notnow.Notyet.
“Andwhatisitthatyouwantfromme?”Emmabelleaskedslowly,loweringherselfbacktoherseat.
“Themostpreciousgiftofall,”Cilliansaid.“Silence.Morespecifically,ifIwin,youwillstoptreatingmywifelikeahelplesslambI’mabouttoannihilate.Ihearandseeeverything.You’renotgivingmymarriageafairchance.Youbadmouthmeeverystepoftheway.ItisdisrespectfultoPersephone,anditstopstoday.Thatappliestoyou,too.”HepinnedSailorwithaglare.“Samestakes.Sameterms.Eitherofyouwin—yougetthemoney.Iwin—Ipayyourdebt,andinreturn,youhopofftheCillianisSatantrain.Ifmywifewantstorideit,she’llbuyherownticketandtravelsolo.”
BelleandSailorexchangedglances.
SincewhendidKillcarewhatanyonethoughtofhim?
“Areyousayingwhatyouhaveisreal?”Sailorprobed.
“I’msayingwhatwehaveisours,”hecountered.“It’sbetweenPersephoneandme.Didn’thearanyobjectionswhenSailorwasonbabysittingdutytomakesureHunter’sdickwasn’tgoingonaworldtourintheirsharedapartment.”Killgesturedtohisyoungerbrother.Hunterwinced.
WhenSailorandHunterfellinlove,weallknewhewasaplayboyyetstillsupportedtheirrelationship.Killhadaterriblereputation,butsofar,heprovedhimselftomemorethanHunterdidtoSailorbeforetheywentsteady.
“I’magoodpokerplayer.”Bellebowedasilkyeyebrow.
Shewasn’tgood.Shewasthebest.Andsheknewit.
“Metoo,”Sailorsaid.
Killsmirked.“I’lltakemychances.”
Fifteenminuteslater,everybodywasengrossedinthegame.Sailor,themostcompetitivewomanontheplanet,keptwipingatherbroweverytimeshepulledacard.Bellerefusedtolosefocus,nottakingpartintheconversationintheroom.Myhusbandloungedinhischair,hisbodylanguageboredandlax,occasionallythrowinganidleremarkaboutthestockmarket,whichHunterandDevondiscussedatlength.
“So.Youwantadivorce.”Hissmoothbaritonetrickleddeepintomybody.HepickedupourconversationfromtheafternoonwhenIaskedhimtosetmefreeifhewasgoingtocontinueignoringme.
“IfI’mdestinedforalifechasingaftermyhusbandbegginghimtogetintobedwithme,thenyes,Iwantadivorce.Younevershould’vemarriedmeifyoudon’tfindmeattractive.”
“Idofindyouattractive.”Hefrownedatacardhedrewfromthepack,businesslike.“TheproblemisIfindyoutooattractive.”
“I’mconfused,”IsaideventhoughIwasanythingbut.Ijustwantedhimtotellmesomethingreassuring.Boostmyshatteredego.
“SoamI.EverytimeIlookatyou.WhichiswhyI’vebeenavoidingyou.”
“Ihaveneeds.”Ishookmyhead.
“AndIhaveskills,”hequippedback,puttinghiscardsdown,pickinganorangechipandtappingitontheoaksurface.Hedroppedonearmunderthetablecasually.Amomentlater,hisheavy,hothandsettledonmyinnerthigh.
Mybreathhitched.Iworeanoff-shoulderemerald-greendressthatbarelyreachedmyknees.Hehikedhisfingersupuntilhishandnestledinthecrookbetweenmythighandgroin.
“Yourmove,Kill.”Samthrewoneofhiscardsintothepile.
Myhusbandpushedastackofchipstothecenterofthetable.Theplayerslookedaround,gaugingeachother’sreaction.Killtooktheopportunitytograzehisfingersoverthecottonofmypanties,nudgingthefabricsideways.
Hetrailedtwofingersovermyexposedslit,exploringlazily,teasingmyfleshwithoutenteringme.Ishuddered,feelingmynippleshardening.
Bellefrownedathercards.“He’sbluffing.Iraise.”
Shedraggedmorechipstothecenterofthetable.
“Sobrazenwithotherpeople’smoney.”Killsmiledidly.
“I’malwaysbrazen,”Bellecorrected.“Butwhenitcomestoputtingassholesintheirplace,I’malsogleefulaboutit.”
“Ifold.”Sailortossedhercards,wincingatmysister.“Sorry.Youknowitphysicallyhurtsmetolose.”
“Metoo,dammit.”Huntersmackedhiscardsonthetable.
Devon,whomIgatheredfromourfewinteractionswasatotalsnake,chuckled,hiseyesmovingbetweenBelleandCillian.
“Isthisawho’s-got-the-biggest-cockcompetition?BecauseEmmabelle,mydarling,Iwouldbesorelydisappointedifyouwin.”
“Butnotundeterred,”Sammuttered.“Rollyourfuckingtonguebackintoyourmouth.You’redroolingintothetortillabowl.”
Mysisterstaredatmyhusbandexpectantly,butCillianhadn’tbotherednoticinganyoneintheroom.Hisexpertfingerswerenowplayingwithmyclit,histhumbrubbingmyslitunderthetable,unaffectedbythefacteveryone’seyeswereonhim.Everymuscleinmybodytighteneddeliciously,beggingforrelease.
Ilikedthatwehadanaudienceeventhoughtheyweren’tawareofit.
“Showusyourcards,”Emmabellesnarled.
“Asknicely,”heschooledher.
“Goddammit,Kill,readtheroom.You’reaboutasnarkyremarkawayfromgettingstabbed.”Hunterlaughed.
Cillianturnedhiscardswithhisfreehand.Everyoneleanedoverthetabletoexaminethemjustasheslippedafingerintomycore,curlingit,histhumbpushingagainstmyclit.
Igasped,twistingmyfingersovertheedgeofthetable.
Motherofdragons.
“Areyouokay,Pers?”Sailorturnedtome.
“Idon’tknowabouther,butherhusbandsureisn’t.”Bellerevealedhercardsintriumph,makingeveryonewheeze.“You’vegotnothing,AmericanPsycho.I,however,haveafullhouse.”
Usingbothherarms,shecollectedthechipsinthecenterofthetable.
“I’mfine,just…just…”Ipanted,tryingtostringasentencetogether,butKillpushedanotherfingerintome,nowpumpinginandout,thepadofhisthumbstillcirclingmysensitivebud.Iwassoaked,shamelesslytryingtoarchmybackandgrindagainstmoreofhishand.Iwasalsoprettysureifpeoplearoundusshutupforasecond,theycouldheartheslurpsthateruptedwhenheplayedmelikeaninstrument.
“Youwhat?”Sailorpressed.
“Ipulledamuscleinmyfoot.”Ireachedformydrink,forcingmyselftoswallowdownasip,myfingersshakingsobadthewatersloshedover.
“Oh,shoot.”Ashscrunchedhernose,pushingherchairback.“Letmehavealook,maybeIcan…”
“No!”Icriedout.Myhusbandfingeredmedeeper,faster,morepossessivelythanhe’devertouchedme.Hewasknuckle-deepinsidemenow,spreadingmewide,makingmefeeldeliciouslyfull.“I-I’mfinenow.Thanks.”
Cillian’sexpressionwasemptyasheexaminedBelle’shandcalmly.
“Beginner’sluck,”hedecided.
Obviouslydisappointedbyhislackofemotionalresponse,mysistersnorted.
“Don’tworry,Kill,I’llcleanoutyourchipsbytheendofthenextgame.”
“Andmyhouse,ifthatstripperclubgigdoesn’tpanout.”
Devonstarteddealingagain.
Iwaspantinghard,graspingtheedgesofmyseatnow,chasinghistouchunderthetable.I’dneverfeltsohotandbotheredinmyentirelife.PaxtonandIhadneverhadsexanywhereworthmentioning.Whatmadeeverythingamilliontimeshotterwasnoonesuspectedwhatweweredoing.Myhusbandwasthevisionofeverythingelegant,goldenandproper,wearinghisicy,unapproachablemaskwhilehedidfilthythingstome.
KillpickedhisnewcardswhenIreachedmypeak.IwrappedmyfingersaroundhisthickwristunderthetableasIangledhimwhereIwantedhimandbeganridinghishandinawave-likemotion.Myclimaxshookmetothecore.Everymuscleinmybodyclenched,mybreathstopped,andmymouthfellopen,anearthquakerockingmehead-to-toe.
“MyGosh,Pers,yousureeverything’sokay?Youlookinpain,”Ashlamentedbehindmyeyelids.Iblinked,druggedandsatisfied.
“Anothercramp.Sorry.”Iknewmycheekswereflushed.Killthrewacardinapile,drewanotheronewithfrigiddisinterest.Hishandretreatedfrombetweenmylegs,outsidemypanties.
Hestoppedtowipemyjuicesonmythigh,rearrangingmydressabovethesmearsofmyclimax.
“Ibetterwalkalittle,stretchmylimbs.”Ishotuptomyfeet.“Anyonewantanythingfromthekitchen?”
“Cognac,”Killsaid,notwithdrawinghiseyesfromhiscards.
“Guinness,”Huntergruffed.
“Cyanide.”Samraisedhishand.“Makeitadouble.Thisgameisboringmetodeath.”
“That’sbecauseyoudon’tenjoymoneyandalwaysfoldearly.”Huntersnorted.“Whydoyoudothat?”
“Idon’tplaytowinorlose,”Samexplained.
“Thenwhydoyouplay?”
“Tostudymyopponents,findtheirweakness,anduseitagainstthem.”
“Ah.”Hunternodded.“Remindmetonevergetonyourbadside.”
“Yougotmybabysisterpregnant,”Samscowled.“Alittlelateforthat.”
Ilockedmyselfinsidethekitchentosteadymybreathandwipeawayanysuspiciousstains.Icamebackwithatrayanddistributedthedrinks.Afterward,Iloiteredaroundtheroom,studyingtheartworkonthewalls.Rusticpaintingsofthewoods,lakes,andsnowstorms.Oneofthemdrewmyattention.Itwasofamoonlitcabin,buttherewasathick,bigcloudinitsbackdrop.
AuntTilda?
“FlowerGirl,”Cillianclipped,usingmynicknameinfrontofeveryone.Allheadslookedupinunisonasthoughhe’dspokeninanotherlanguage.Hepointedatmyseat.Iwhippedmyheadfromthepainting.
“Showyoursisterwhichsideyou’reon.”
“Yousure?Itwouldn’tbeyours.”Iputonasarcasticsmile,butIwashonest.Bellewasmysister.I’dalwayshaveherback.
Bellelaughed.“Ouch.”
Myhusbandmovedtheremainderofhischipstothecenterofthetable,unfazed.
“Allin.”
SailorandBellelookedateachother.Overthecourseoftheevening,thegameswereprettyeven,withCillian,Sailor,andBelleendingupwithaboutthesameamountofchips.
Hunter,Devon,andSamallfolded,tooentertainedbytheprospectofseeingKillgoingagainsttwowomenwhowantedhimdeadtointerfere.
“Metoo.”Sailorpushedforwardherpileofchips,turningtoBelle.“You?”
“Goeswithoutsaying.”Belledumpedallherchips,rubbingherpalmstogether.
Sailorwasthefirsttoputhercardsdown.“Sayhellotomytwopairs.”
BellepattedSailor’sshouldersmugly,revealingherowncards.
“That’sallniceanddandy,butyou’reformallyinvitedtomysecondfullhouseinarow.Gee,IwonderwhatI’lldowithallthismoney.”Shesmiledatmyhusband,tappingherlips.“I’mthinkingavacationintheBahamasormaybegetanewcar.Whaddayathink,Fitzpatrick?WillIlookgoodinaMercedes?”
Pleasedon’ttellmysistershe’dlookgoodinacoffin,Iinwardlyprayed.
ItwassuchaCillianthingtosay.
Kill’sfaceremainedblank.Hedroppedhiscardslazily,revealingahandthatmadeeveryoneintheroomsuckinabreath.
“Royalflush!”Bellebristled,jumpingup.“Thereisaoneinahalf-millionchanceofgettingaroyalflush,andyou’renotthatdamnlucky.Youtamperedwiththecards.Admitit.”
ItwasKill’sturntostand.Hedidn’tcollectthechips,juststaredatBellewithalookthatmademerealizeheneverlikedher.Whatevermadehimlookathereverytimewewereinthesameroomtogetherwasnotlust.Hetoldmeheneverwantedher,andIfinallybelievedhim.Killwascruel,decadent,andbadtothebone,butlyingandcheatingwerebeneathhim.
“Ifyou’regoingtothrowaroundaccusations,youbetterbackthemupwithsomefacts.”Heraisedaneyebrow.
“HowthehellwouldIdothat?”Shelaughedbitterly.“Fine.Whatever.Justsowe’reclear,Ithinkyou’rethemostcorruptedmanontheplanet.”
“Justsowe’reclear,”hemimickedhertone,causingstifledgigglestorisefromthetable,“Idon’tcare.Keepthechange.Andtoyourquestionofwhattodowithsaidmoney,Isuggestyoubuysomecommonsense.Inthemeantime,Iremindyouthatyou’veagreednottointerferewithmymarriage.Nobrainwashingmywifeorgivingherapieceofyourmindaboutme.She’sabiggirlandcanmakeherowndecisions.Samegoestoyou.”HesnappedhisfingersatSailor.
Withthat,hewalkedaway,leavingtheroom.
Themenwerethefirsttochuckleandgetup,tricklingbackintotheirrooms
Wewomensatincompanionablesilenceforafewminutes,digesting.
“Whatjusthappened?”Aislingasked,finally.
“Ithink,”Bellerolledoneofthepokerchipsbetweenherfingers,“PersjustmanagedtoputthefirstchipinSatan’sicicleheart.”
“Andithurthim.”Sailorlaughed.“Likeabitch.”Devon:Weneedtobuytime.SitdownwithArrowsmithandcompromise.
Me:Wrongnumber.
Devon:Youpaymetogiveyousolidadvice.Myadviceistosignabackroomsweetheartdealandfigureoutyourlong-termplanafteryoudismantlethistickingbomb.
Me:TheonlybackroomthingArrowsmithwillbegettingfrommeisgoingtosendhimintoanalreconstructivesurgery.
Hebrokemeonce.Thistime,I’dbedoingthebreaking.
Devon:Irespectthatyouloathehim,Kill,butwewereyounglads.Throwhimafatdonation,makehimfeelpretty,andmoveonwithyourlife.YoucouldloseyourCEOtitle,millionsofdollars,andfacejailtimeifyoutamperwiththistrial.
Me:Hewasamonsterwhoshapedmeintobecomingabettermonster.Nowwearebothcarnivorousbeasts.Itistimetoseewhocanshedmoreblood.
Itossedmyphoneontotheleatherseat,frowningouttheEscalade’swindow.
AndrewArrowsmithwasn’tgoingtorestuntilhesawmefilingforbankruptcy
Itwasn’taboutthemoney.Neverwasforme.
ItwasbecomingbetterthanmyfatheratbeingaCEObecausehewasbetterthanhisfather.
Backwhenmygreat-great-great-great-grandfatherincorporatedRoyalPipelines,youcouldshootabulletinthegroundandoilwouldspill.Bythetimemyfatherinheritedthecompany,hehadtodosomeseriousfrackingandsqueezethenaturalresourcesavailabletohimtocontinuethemonstrousgrowthofourcompany
Me?Ididn’twanttosimplyincreaseourcapital.Iwantedtotripleit.TogodowninhistoryasthebestCEOthecompanyhadeverknown.
IhadSamdiggingupdirtonAndrewasIdecidedwhichangleIwantedtoattackhimfrom.Inthemeantime,ImadesureGreenLivingthrewalotofmoneyintothelawsuit,losingtheirpantsandtheirfundsquickly.
ForallIcared,bythetimeIwasfinished,Andrewwouldn’thaveajob,acompany,oraroofoverhishead.
TheEscaladecametoahaltinfrontofmywife’sapartmentbuilding.Ifiredheratexttocomedownstairs,scrollingovertheunansweredmessagefromearlier,supplementedwithapictureofthesky.
FlowerGirl:Lookoutside.AuntieTildacameouttosayhellothismorning.?
AuntieTildawasapainintheassandwasresponsibleformywife’sunfortunatename.PersephonewasonlymarginallybetterthanTreeandTinder.
Icontinuedignoringmywife’sdailytexts.ItwasbadenoughI’dspentthelastweekhauntedbythememoryofthepokernightonmyranch.Thegamewasabore,punctuatedbymind-numbingcommentaryfromSailorandEmmabelle,whobecametwoofmyleastfavoritethingsaboutBoston.Mywife,however,wasanotherstory.NomatterhowmuchItriedtodenyit,shepleasedme.
Inthewayshelookedatme.
Inthewayshesmiledatme.
Inthewayshecalledmehubsasthoughthiswasrealandnotalifesentencebornfromthecrappycardsshe’dbeendealtbyherprevioushusband.
She’dalreadygottenherdebtpaid,herdivorcegranted,andthemeanstolivelikeaKardashian.Shedidn’thavetopretendtotoleratemebutstillhadthecourtesytodoso.
MyeyelidsdroppedasItriedtobleachoutthememoryofherclingingtomyhandunderthetable,ridingmyfist,herthighsclutchedaroundmyknucklesinavisegrip.Sheburnedlikeablood-redrose,herpetalscurlingandtwistingaroundtheflame,andIwasgladIcouldn’twatchheropenlywhilewewereincompanybecauseIhadnodoubtI’dhavecomeinmypants.
Iwantedtopurgemywifeoutofmysystem.Torelocatehersomewherefaraway—maybetoherparents’newhouseinthesuburbs.Topluckherfromobscurityonlywhenthemoodstruckmeonspecialoccasions.
Shewasdazzling,kinetic.Tooloud,toomuch.MarryingherwastheworstandbestdecisionI’devermade.
“Power-napping,huh?”Persephone’sthroatyvoicefilledtheEscalade.“Ireadsomewherethatcatnapsaremoreeffectivethaneighthoursofsleep.Didyouknowthat?”
Shescootednexttome,wrappedinagownthatclungtohercurveslikeIwouldifIwasn’tahundredandoneshadesofmessedup.
Iproducedacigarfromaboxnexttome,lightingitup.“Nicenumber.”
“IsthatacomplimentI’mhearing?”Shepressedthebackofherhandtomyforehead,teasinglycheckingmytemperature.“Nope.Nofever.”
“Yourbeautywasneverinquestion,”Ipuffed.
“Whatis,then?”
“Itsabilitytodisarmme.”
Sheshotmealookthatsaidshewasn’thappywithme.Alookthat,forreasonsunbeknownsttome,Icouldn’tstand.SheproducedsomethingfromherValentinoclutch.Apieceofpaper.Sheunfoldedit.Aten-dollarnoterolledoutofit.Alsoapen.Shehandedmeallthree.
“Thisisforyou,bytheway.”
“WhatamIlookingat?”Iscannedthepaperinherhandwithouttakingit.
“IsawthisonaTVshow.Billions.It’sacontractinwhichyousellyoursoultome.”
Ireallyshould’vemadehertakeadrugtestbeforeIputaringonherfinger.
TheamountofnonsensespewingoutofthatprettymouthcouldkeeptheentireSenatebusyforacentury.
Thenagain,deepdown,Ikneweveniftheresultscamebacksayingshewashookedonmeth,cocaine,heroin,andeveryhomelessdickdowntown,Istillwouldhavemarriedher,andthatwasaproblem.
Ahugeproblem.
“Signit.”Shereleasedtheten-dollarbillinmylaplikeIwasaB-gradepoledancer.Ididn’tmakeamovetopickitup.
“What’stheproblem?”Shefrowned.“YoualreadytoldmeIcanneverhaveyourheartandmentionedyoudon’tbelieveinsouls.Thatmeanssellingyourstomeshouldn’tbetoohard,right?”
Thefactshewastryingtophilosophicallychallengememadehercuteenoughtoeat.Thenagain,Ididn’tneedmuchincentivetowanttoeatherout.Wonderinghowmywife’spussytastedwassomethingIdidoften.
I’dlickedmyfingersafterthecardgameontheranch.Herscenthittingmysystemalonehadmademepainfullyhard.
“It’sokayifyoudon’twanttotakeanychances.”Shewithdrewthecontract,abouttotuckitbackintoherpurse.
“There’snosuchthingasasoul,”Irepeateddully.
“Inthatcase,I’dliketobuyyours.”
“How’ditendonthatTVshow?”Isatback,twirlingthecigarbetweenmyfingers.
“Billions?”Shefrowned.“Thegirl—whohasasimilarsetofbeliefsandviewsontheworldasyou—signedthecontract,provingshetrulydidn’tbelieveinhersoul’sexistence.”
“Amateurmistake.”Iclutchedmycigarbetweenmyteethtofreemyhands,adjustingthenecklaceonmywife’snecksotheclaspwouldn’tshow.“Firstruleinbusinessissupplyanddemand.Youputapriceonsomethinginaccordancetohowotherpeoplevalueit.Mysetofbeliefsisirrelevant.Youthinksoulsexist,andthereforeIwillsignmineovertoyouforthehighestprice.”
“Whatwouldthatpricebe?”
“Yourfullsubmissiontoourarrangement.”Ipluckedthepenandpaperfromherhand,tuckingthemintomybreastpocket.“MoreonthatwhenIfigureoutwhatthatexactlyentails.Subjectclosed.”
Theneedtoown,conquer,banish,anddiscardhermademelosesleep.
Itdidn’tevenmakesense,andsensewasthecompassIcouldalwayscounton
Persephonemademeswear,andnothingmademeswear.Yetwhenwewereonthattrail,Isaidthewordfuck.NotbecauseIcrackedtworibs—which,bytheway,happened—orbecauseIwasbloodiedandwounded,butbecauseshelookedscared,andIneverwantedtoseethatemotiononherfaceagain.
Shesmoothedherdress,examiningmeunderathickcurtainoflashes.
“I’mgladwe’regoingtothischarityevent.Wehaven’tgoneoutasacouplesincewegotmarried.PaxtonandIusedtohavedatenightsallthetime.Imissthat.”
“WheredidPaxtontakeyou?”ThequestionslippedoutbeforeIcouldshoveitbackintomythroatandchokeonit.WhichwaswhatIdeservedforeventhinkingaboutit.
Sheblewalockofsunflowerhairthatfloppedoverhereye.
“WehadanannualDisneypass.Iloveagoodfairytale.Weusedtogotorestaurants,danceclubs,footballgames.Oh,andhavepicnics,sometimes.OurdreamhoneymoonwastogotoNamibia,butweweretoobroketodoit.”
“WhyNamibia?”
Whyaskhermorequestions?
“IoncesawapictureoftheNamibiandesertinajournal.Theyellowduneslookedlikevelvet.Ibecameobsessedwithlyingononeofthoseperfectdunesandlookingupatthesun.Itlookedliketheheightofbeingalive.Sopoignant.Sopure.”
Sostupid.
Shehadthegoodsensetoblush.
Iturnedbacktotheviewzippingthroughthewindow,havingheardenoughaboutherpreviousrelationship.
“Wehadagoodrun.”
Anunfamiliarneedleprickedmychest.MaybeIwashavingaheartattack.SpendinganightintheERwouldstillbeatArrowsmithdroolingovermywifelikeahornytenthgraderpublicly.
“AmannamedAndrewArrowsmithisgoingtobeatthecharityball.He’stheonefilingalawsuitagainstRoyalPipelines.”Ichangedthesubject.
“IknowhimfromTV.Hedoesmorningshowsandenvironmentalpanels.”
“Iexpectyoutobeonyourbestbehavior.He’llexamineusclosely,lookforcracksinthefa?ade.”
Sheflashedmeacuriouslook.“WhydoIgetthefeelingthere’smoretothisstorythanalawsuit?”
“Wegoback.Wegrewuptogether,wenttothesameschoolsforawhile.Hislatefatherworkedformine.”
“I’mguessinghisdeparturedidn’tincludeanyemployeeoftheyearawards.”
“AthairmadehimdothewalkofshameandblacklistedhimfromworkingatanyreputablecompanyontheEastCoast.ArrowsmithSeniorhadaknackforembezzling.”
Persephonecrossedherlegs.“Sothislawsuitispersonal?”
Iofferedheracurtnod.“ArrowsmithSeniordiedrecently.”
“Whichopenedtheoldwound,makingAndrewtakethejobatGreenLiving.”
Shecaughtupquickly.FlowerGirlhadbeenalotsmarterthanIgavehercreditforbeforeIaskedhertomarryme.
“Howcomethemediahasn’tpickeduponit?”Shereadjustedmytie.Thistime,Ididn’tmoveherhandaway.“Hishiddenagenda,Imean.He’sahighlypublicfigure.”
“Ihaven’tleakedityet.”
“Why?”
“Arrowsmith’sgotsomethingonme,too.We’rehangingoursinsovereachother’shead,waitingtoseewhoblinksfirst.”
“Let’smakehimflinchthen,hubs.”
“Thereisn’taweinthisoperation.Youworryaboutgivingmeheirs,andI’llworryaboutArrowsmith.”
Shestudiedme;herblueeyestranquil.Icouldtellshewasnolongerfearfulofme,butIwasn’tsureifthatsatisfiedorannoyedme.
“Imeanit,FlowerGirl.Don’tbuttintomybusiness.”
Shewasstillsmiling.
“Whatareyoulookingat?”Iglowered.
“Youheldmyhandinyourstheentirelengthofthedrive.Sinceyoutookthecontractfromme.”
Droppingmygaze,Iimmediatelywithdrewfromher.
“Haven’tnoticed.”
“You’rehandsomewhenflustered.”
“Iswear,Persephone,I’mgoingtorelocateyoutoyourpreciousNamibiaifyoudon’tstopgratingonmynerves.”
“SonowIannoyyouconstantly.”Herblueeyesshone.“That’sone,steadyemotion.Twenty-sixmoretogo!”
Thereweretwenty-sevenemotions?Thatseemedcompletelyunmanageable.Nowondermosthumanswerecategoricallyuseless.
Thedriveropenedthebackdoor.Islidoutfirst,takingmywife’sdelicatehandinmineasthecamerasclicked,devouringus,wantingmorefromthewomanwhohaddecidedtolockherfatewithTheVillain.
Ituckedmywifebehindmeandmarchedpastthem,blockingtheblindingflasheswithmybodysoshewouldn’ttripandembarrassme.
Itwasshowtime.
ThecharityballremindedmewhyIdidn’tdopeople.
Outofthebedroom,anyway.
Arancidcloudofperfumehungovercarefullysprayedhairdos.Thecheckedmarblefloorofthenineteenthcenturyhoteltwinkled,andthearistocratsimmortalizedonthepaintingsframingtheballroomglaredattheguestsdisapprovingly.
Everythingabouttheeventwasfake,fromtheconversation,totheveneerteethandcrocodiletearsoverwhatwewereraisingmoneyfor—clownsforkittens?Antsanctuary?Whateveritwas,IknewIstoodoutlikeasoberguyatafratparty.
IledPersephoneinside,ignoringthefewpeoplewhoweredumbenoughtoapproachme.
ThatwasthebeautyinbeingBoston’smosthatedbusinessman.Ididn’tneedtopretendIgaveadamn.Iwantedaprivatewordwiththemanwhowassuingmycompany,soIcameherewithachecktheorganizerscouldn’trefuse.Butmywillingnesstosocializeorplaythegamewasbelowzero.
Isnatchedafluteofchampagnefromawaitress’strayforPersephoneandacognacformyself,snubbingahedgefundmanagerwhocametointroducehimselfwithaboring-lookingwomanIassumedwashiswife.
Somethingfastandhardbumpedintomyleg.Itstumbledbackward,landingatmywife’sfeetinatangleofpudgylimbs.
Persephonelosthergriponthechampagne,spillingherdrinkalloverherdress.SheletoutabreathwhileIgrabbedthestupidthingandscoopeditintheair.Itwaskickingandscreaming.
“Whatinthe—”
“Lethimgo!”mywifecriedout,swattingmyhandaway.Shecroucheddown,givingeveryoneintheroomafront-seatviewtohercleavage,andrightedthething—fine,child—who’dcrashedintous,helpinghimtohisfeet.
“Areyouokay,sweets?”Sherubbedhisarms.
Thechildlookedvaguelyfamiliar,butsinceIwasn’tacquaintedwithanykids,Ifiguredtheyalllookedthesame.LikesquirrelsorOreocookies.
Thelittleboyscrewedhisnose,shakinghishead.Hisrighteyetickedtwice…no,sixtimes.
Tick.Tick.Tick,tick,tick,tick.
Myguttwisted.Isteppedback,poppingmyfingersoneaftertheother.
“Areyoulost?”Mywifeputapalmonthesnottything’scheek.
Yes.
Theboycasthiseyesdown,twitchingandbuzzing.
“Y-y-yes.”
“Let’sgofindyourparents.”
Sheofferedhimherhand.Hetookit,whenanotheridentical-lookingkidsailedonhissneakersinourdirection,bumpingintothetwitchykid.TheybothknockedPersephonedown.Insteadofpushingthemoutoftheway,shelaughedherthroatylaughterthatseemedtohaveadirectspeed-dialconnectiontomygroinandcollectedtheminherarmsasiftheywereeagerpuppies.Theystucktheirstickyfingersintoherblondcurlsandfingeredherdiamondnecklace.
“Easythere,littleones.”Shelaughed.
“I’mnotlittle.I’mabigboy.Tinder!”thesecondboycried.“MommyandDaddyarelookingforyou.”
“T-Tree.LookwhatIfound.Arealprincess.”Hemotionedtomywife.
Tinder?
Tree?
Oh,forfu…
“Fitzpatrick.Fancyseeingyouhere.WhatareyoudoingraisingfundsforFortheLoveofCow?”AndrewArrowsmithstrolledbehindhischildren,leadinghiswifebythesmallofherback.
Iglancedatoneofthepostersintheroom,certainhewastestingme.Sureenough,thewordsFortheLoveofCowwereplainlythere.Apparently,I’dslidafifty-thousand-dollarcheckatthedoortosupportresearchonhowtodecreasemethane’seffectondepletingtheozone.
Cow’sshitjustgotawholenewliteralmeaning.
IstoleanotherglanceatTinder.Hewasjerkingaroundinmywife’sarms,histhroatproducingferalsoundsIdoubtedhecontrolled.
“Don’ttellmeyougrewaconscience.”Andrewsmirked.Ihadtoadmit,heworehisnewlyearnedaristocracywell.
“Whatconscience?”Iaskednonchalantly.“Iheardthewordcowandfiguredthere’dbesteak.”
“Thatsoundsmorelikeyou.”Andrew’seyesdriftedtoPersephone,whowasstillonthefloor,ahh-ingandaww-ingoversomethinghischildrensaid.
“Sheislovely.”
“Ihaveeyes.”
“Aren’tyougoingtointroduceustoher?”
“No,”Ideadpanned.
Unfortunately,partofwhyIwasmildlyobsessedwithPersephonewasduetoherimpeccablemanners.Sherosetoherfeet,extendingherhandtomynemesiswithawarmsmile,introducingherselfanyway.
“PersephoneFitzpatrick.It’sapleasuretomeetyou.”
“AndrewArrowsmith,andthisismywife,Joelle.Ibelieveyou’vealreadymetmysons,TinderandTree.”
“Oh,theymadeagrandentrance.”PersephonebrushedbrownlocksfromTinder’spastyforehead,laughing.
Donottouchhiskid.
“I-I-I-I’mb-b-bored.C-Canyouplaywithme,princess?”Tindertuggedatmywife’sdress,stilldampfromthechampagnehemadeherdrop.
Iwasnotjealousofafive-year-old.
Isimplywasn’t.
Eveniftheaweinwhichmywiferegardedhimgratedonmynerves.
“Thisplaceisboring,huh?”Shewinkedathimconspiratorially.“Let’sseewhattroublewecanfindaroundhere.”
“No,thankyou.Westillhaveafewpeopletogreet.”Joellepulledherkidsbacktoherside,strugglingtocontrolthem.Shelookedpitifullyaverage,especiallynexttomywife.Herfeaturesboring,herhairtoostiff.
FlowerGirlgaveherapointedlook.
“IthinkTinderneedsthefreshair.We’llstayonthebalcony,whereyoucanseeus.You’rewelcometojoinus.”
“Sweetheart.”Iputahandonmywife’sarm.“You’reoff-duty.Lethisparentsdealwithhim.”
Sheshookawayfrommytouch.“Noteverythingisachore.”
Ipinnedherwithalookbutkeptmyopinionstomyself.WhatcouldIsay?Thatthekidwasbroken,andhopeless,andanykindnessshewasgoingtoshowhimwasgoingtogivehimcruelandunjustifiedhopehecouldonedaybenormal?Accepted?Loved?
“Please,Mommy.”Tinderfellonhisknees.“Please,wereallywanttohavefunforachange.”
“Fiiiiine.”Joellelaughednervously.“TreeandIwilltagalong.”
“Youneverletusplayduringstufflikethis.”Treelookedupathismothersuspiciously.“Whynow?”
Joellesnorted,wavingherhandaround.
“OfcourseIdo,honey.”
Thewomenleftwiththechildren.AndrewandIstayedbehind,leaningagainstthebar,watchingthem.Acoupleofpeoplewhopassedusshookhishandandwavedathim,ignoringme.
“Shereallyissomething.”Hescrubbedhischin,followingmywife’selegantmovements,undressingherwithhiseyes.
“Somethingyoubetteravertyoureyesfrom,”Ihissed.“Unlessyoudon’tmindmyscoopingthemoutwithadessertspoon.”
“Don’tpretendyouarecapableofforminganattachmenttoanyoneoranythingotherthanmoney,includingthisdelectablelittlecreature.”
Heturnedtosmileatme,satisfied.“Doessheknow?”
TherewasnopointinpretendingIdidn’tknowwhathewastalkingabout.
“Yes,”Ilied.
Hechuckled.“Nicetry.Shedoesn’t,butshewill.Andonceshedoes,she’lldumpyou.”
“Tinder’saninterestingkid,”Ipokedback.
“Yeah.”Andrewproppedhiselbowsonthebar,stillwatchingourfamilies.Persephonewrappedherleanarmaroundacolumnonthebalcony,spinningandlaughing.Tinderfollowedsuit,andTreejoinedthem.Joellelookedon,agrimsmileonherface.“Igivehimallthesupportandhelpheneeds.”
“Yourloveandsupportcan’tfixhisnervoussystem.”Itiltedmyheadback,downingmycognac.
“I’mhavingarealgoodtimefuckingupyourbusiness,puttingbillboardsnexttoyouroffice,arrangingdemonstrations,suingyourcompanyforallit’sworth.Whatdoyouhavetosayaboutthat?”Hegrabbedadrinkfromthebarandtookasip.“Oh.That’sright.Younevercurse.Howisthatworkingforyou?”
Iturnedtohim.Icouldcountononehandthethingsthatmanagedtopiercethroughmyarmorthesedays.
AndrewArrowsmithwasoneofthefew.
Sowasmywife.
“Let’scuttothechase,Andrew.Dropthelawsuit,orIwillmakeyouloseyourjob,thenyourhome,thenyourreputation,exactlyinthatorder.TheArrowsmithfingerprintsarealloverRoyalPipelinesfromdecadesago.Allittakesisonediginsidethecompany’srecords”—Isnappedmyfingers—“andeverythingyou’vebuiltwillcrumblelikeastalecookie.Theappledoesn’tfalltoofarfromthetree,”Iassuredhim.“Myfatherleftyoupennilessandforcedyoutoscalebackonyourdreamandpotential,andifyoupushmetoit,Iwillmakesureyourkidswon’tbeabletoaffordtheclothesontheirbacksandthebreadintheirstomachs.”
Andrewtookastepforward,gettinginmyface.
“Don’tforgetIhavesomethingonyou,too,buddy-boy.”
“Acondition,notascandal,”Icemented.
“Conditionornot,Ibetyourfatherstilldoesn’tknowhisgoldenboyisanythingbutpreciousmetal.Doesn’tknowtheextentofembarrassmentyou’vecausedtheFitzpatrickname.YoutouchGreenLiving,andIwillmakesureeveryoneintheworldknowsyourstory.Yourhistory.Theuglyliesanduncomfortabletruths.It’seithereconomiccarnageoraprivatebloodbath,Fitzy.Yourpick.ButI’veafeelingyoualreadycametotermswiththefactI’mgoingtodestroyRoyalPipelines.”
ThewomenappearedinourperipherybeforeIdeliveredacomeback.Andrewtookastepback,bowinginPersephone’sdirection.
“Mrs.Fitzpatrick.MayIhaveadance?”
Ifshewasuncomfortable,shedidn’tletitshow.Sheplacedherhandinhis.Iusedeveryounceofmyself-controlnottopounceonhimandripherfromhishands.
Itwasjustadance.Besides,itwasgreatpracticeforseeingherinsomeoneelse’sarms.WhichwassomethingIwasdestinedtogothroughinafewyears,aftershegavemeheirsandofficiallythrewinthetowelonmysociopathicass.
Wewouldturnintomyparents.
Civilizedstrangers,linkedbycommitments,commoninterests,andsocialties
IwasleftalonewithhorseyJoelleandherunbearabletwins.
ItwasJoelle’sturntodrapeherselfagainstthebar,acunningsmilesmearedonherill-fittedlipstick.
“She’sadarling.”
“Shewilldo.”
IshouldpeelmyeyesawayfromPersephoneinAndrew’sarms,butIwasfascinatedbywhatitdidtome.Tomyinsides.Myheadthrobbed.
Mrs.Arrowsmith’seyesignitedwithcuriosity.
“That’snotaglowingreviewforawifeyoucan’tseemtostopstaringat.How’sbeinganewlywedtreatingyou?”
Mygazeglideddownherface.NowonderAndrewcouldn’ttakehiseyesoffmywife.Hislookedinbred.
“Ithoughtshotgunmarriageswereathingofthepast,”Joellecontinued,tappingherlips,ignoringherchildren,whowereoffrunningbetweenthelegsofthecouplesonthedancefloor.“Everyoneiswonderingifyoutwohavealittlebunintheoven.”
Iwish.
JacksonHayfield,anoilbaronfromTexas,caughtmyeyefromtheothersideoftheroomandsalutedme.Isalutedback,treatingMrs.Arrowsmithasifshewereair.ForallIcared,thatwasexactlywhatshewas.
“ItismyunderstandingthatthisisPersephone’ssecondmarriage.”
“Doyouenjoytalkingtoyourself?”Iwondered,checkingmyphoneforemails.“Youseemtobeholdingthisone-sidedconversationwell.Atelltaleofyourmarriagedynamic?”Iknittedmyeyebrowstogether.
Hersmilefaltered,butshedidn’tbackdown.
“I’msorry,Ididn’tmeantocomeoffasforward.Ijustthinkit’ssobrave,whatyou’redoing.Myhusbandtoldmeaboutyourcondition,andwell…”Shetrailedoff,playingwiththenecklaceonherneck.
“Andwhat?”Iturned,finallytakingthebait.
“Anditisclearsheisstillwithherex-husband.Imean,whyelsewouldshebevisitinghergrandmother-in-lawataretirementhomeeveryweekend?”
Joelleflippedherdyed,straw-likehairtooneshoulder,goinginforthekill.
“Imean,itmakessense.Shewaspennilesswithnoprospects.Anditwashightimeyougotmarried.Thepressurewason,I’msure.Ifyouaskme,arrangedmarriageshavetheirmerits.Sohowdoesitwork,exactly?Aretherethreeofyouinthismarriage,ordoesMr.Veitchpopineveryfewweeksforavisit…?”
Thelookonmyfacemust’vetoldJoellesheneededtorewind.IhadnoideahowsheknewaboutPersephone’sex-husband.Hewasn’tasocietyman.SamtoldmePaxtonwasaD-listerrandboyforByrne.
Joellereadthequestiononmyface,wavingahandaround.
“Please,Cillian,peopletalk.TheminutethecountryclubfolksinBackBayheardaboutyournuptials,tonguesstartedwagging.PaxtonVeitchwasmytennismate’sstudentinhighschool,soshevolunteeredtheinformation.Apparently,shestillvisitshisgrandmother,too.PoorthinghasnootherrelativesinBoston,andshe’sinquiteastate.I’mtoldyourwifehasn’tmissedavisitinthreeyears,notlongaftershestarteddatinghim.Familiaprimum,huh?”
FamilyfirstinLatin.
SoJoellewasoneofthosewomen.
FluentinLatin,mingling,anddesignerbrands.
Gentlybredtobecomethewifeofmenlikeme.
“Here’sthething.”Iinclinedmyheadtowardher,bulldozingintoherpersonalspaceasshedidintomybusiness.“Mymarriagemaybeasham,butatleastmywifeandIareupfrontaboutit.Yourmarriageisafarce,andIbetyou’redumbenoughtobelieveit’stherealdeal.Letmeguess—youcomefrommoney,don’tyou,Joelle?Neverworkedadayinyourlife.Youhaveanice,albeituselessbachelor’sdegreefromanIvyLeagueuniversity,aprestigiouslineage,andtrustfundscomingoutofeveryholeinyourbody?”Iarchedaneyebrow.Bythewaysheflinched,I’dhitanerve.Iplowedthroughit,guttingitwithapitchfork.“EverythingAndrewArrowsmithhasdonefromthemomenthewasbornwastotrytomakeupforthefacthewasn’tbornintotheFitzpatrickfamily.Heatefromourplates,playedinourbackyard,andattendedthesameextracurricularclassesItookpartin.Hisfamilywentasfarastosendhimtothesameschoolsasme.Butmakenomistakes—theArrowsmithsneverslicedthroughtheairtightsealofBoston’suppercrust.Heisourhang-on,andyou,mydear,arehismealticket.WhileitistruethatI,too,standinyourpositionoffeedinganambitious,good-lookinggo-getteroftheworld,atleastImarriedawomanI’dliketotaketobedeverynight.Youmarriedasocialclimberwhowouldn’ttouchyouwithaten-footpolegiventhechance.Whenwasthelasttimeheateyouout?”Ileaneddown,mylipsbrushingherear.Herbodyrespondedwithanexcitedshiver.“Ravagedyoulikeyouwereapreciousprizeandnotacheckheneededtodeposit?Yourhusbandischeatingonyou,isn’the,Mrs.Arrowsmith?”
Shepaledunderhermakeup,staggeringbackward.Ishotoutahandtoclaspherarmandhelphertoherfeet,apolitesmirkonmylips.
“That’swhatIthought.Tellanyoneaboutmywifevisitingherformergrandmother-in-law,andIwillmakesureeveryoneinAmericaknowsyourhusbandhassidepieces.Enjoytherestofyourevening,Mrs.Arrowsmith.”
“Mrs.Fitzpatrickwillbespendingthenightatmyplace.There’snoneedtostopatherapartment,”IannouncedtomydriverwhenweslidintothebackseatoftheEscalade.
Persephonetookoffherheelswithajoyoussigh,droppingherheadtothecoolleather,tooexhaustedtodiscussthisnewdevelopment.
She’ddancedwitheverymanworthknowingintheballroomtonight.Washandedfromonepairofarmstothenext.Adazzling,shinytoythatbelongedtothemostclosed-offmaninNewEngland.EveryonewantedtoseewhohadmanagedtotameTheVillain,andsincemostpeoplehadlonggivenuponapproachingmedirectly,FlowerGirlwasthenextbestthing.
“IseeI’mgrowingonyou.”Sherubbedherswollen,redfoot,proppingitonmykneeinhopesI’dgiveheramassage.
“Youmightbeneedingglasses.”Ipattedherwigglingtoes,ignoringherpleas.
“Howcanyoubesounhappywheneverythingwentsmoothlytonight?”Sheblinkedatme.“Areyouprogrammedtobemiserableorsomething?”
Ipaidmyduesinthismarriageandwithahealthyinterestrate.Notonlykeepingmywifealive—whichturnedoutmorechallengingthanI’dexpected—butalsoshoweringherwitheverythingatwenty-firstcenturywomancoulddreamof.
IfPersephonethoughtshewasgoingtorunaround,visitingherex-husband’sfamily,andkeepingintouchwiththeVeitchclan—maybeevenwithPaxtonhimself—shewassorelymistaken.Shewasminenow,andifIhadtoclosethedealbyimpregnatingherthisweek,Iwasupforthejob.
Oncewearrivedatmyhouse,PetardashedfromhisroomtoseeifIneededanything.
Aloyalwifewouldbenice.
“Outofmyway.”Iwavedhimoff.PersephoneandIheadedtomystudyonthesecondfloor,ascendingtheTuscanstaircase.
Iclosedthedoorbehindus,strolledovertomydesk,retrievedthestupidcontractfrommybreastpocket,andslappeditonthetable.Producingmyownpenfromanearbydrawer—onewithoutagoddamnplumbingcompany’sname—Isignedthecontract,handingmysoulovertomywife,thenheldthepaperbetweenmyindexandmiddlefingersintheair.
Sheliftedherarmtosnatchit.Itiltedmyarmup,shakingmyheadslowly.
“Ifoundapriceformysoul.”
“Let’shearit.”Shefoldedherarmsoverherchest.
“Stopvisitingyourex-husband’sgrandmother.Itisinappropriate,ungrateful,andsendsthewrongmessage.”
TherewasabeatofsilenceinwhichshetriedtodigesthowI’dknownaboutthistobeginwith.
“No,”shesaid,point-blank.“Shehasnoone.Sheissenile,andlonely,andindesperateneedofcompanionship.Shedoesn’thavemuchlongertolive.I’mnotgoingtoturnmybackonher.”
Itsurprisedmeshedidn’tdenyvisitingherex-relative.
Althoughitshouldn’thave.IwasalwaysundertheimpressionPersephonewaseasiertohandlethanherfriendsandsister—akathePMSBrigade.Inpractice,mywifesimplyhadanunconventionalapproachtothings.Insteadofstandingherground,sheperchedonitcutelywithasweetsmileonherface.
Butshewasstill,technically,onherground,notmovinganinch.
“She’snotyourresponsibilityanymore.”Bracingmyknucklesovermydesktostopmyselffrompoppingthem,Ileanedforward,feelingthethreadsofmycoolunraveling.
“I’mnotbuyingyoursoulforthepriceoftarnishingmine.”Sheerectedherspine.“Sorry,hubs,you’llhavetothinkofsomethingelse.”
“I’llhireanurseforher.”
WasIreallynegotiatingwiththiswoman?Again?
“No,”shesaidflatly.
“Twonurses,”Igrittedout.
Sheshookherhead.
“Thewomanissenile.”Ibaredmyteeth.“Sheisnotgoingtoknowthedifferencebetweenyouandaprofessional.”
“ButIwill.”Sheunfastenedherhairclip,hergoldenlocksspillinglikewaterfallsonhershoulders.“AndI’llknowIturnedmybackonsomeonehelplessjustbecauseofmyhusband’swhim.”
Iwantedto…wantedto…whatthefuckdidIwanttodotothiswoman?
AndwhythefuckdidIthinkthewordfuckinmyheadjustnow?
Ididitagain.
God-fucking-dammit.
Sheambledtowardme,puttingherhandonminefromacrossthedesk.
“Cillian,”shewhispered.“Listentome.Thetwomostimportantdecisionsinourlivesarenotourstomake.Ourcreationandourdeath.Wedon’tchoosetobeborn,andwedon’tchoosewhenorhowwedie.Buteverythingin-between?That’sourjurisdiction.Wecanfillintheblanksasweplease.AndIchoosetofillminebydoingtherightthing.Bybeingagoodfriend—agoodhuman—accordingtomystandards.”
Calmly,Iretrievedthecontractbetweenusandshoveditintomyofficedrawer.Ilockedit,disposingthekeyinmyfrontpocket.Iwasn’tgoingtogetmyway—nottonight,anyway—butnegotiationsweremyplayground,andthesmallprintwaswhereIthrived.
Shewasgoingtostopseeingtheoldhag,ifIhadtoworkfull-timeatmakingithappen.
Iroundedthedesk,leaningagainstitandcrossingmyankles.
“Comehere.”
Sheclosedthespacebetweenuswithouthesitation,willingandresponsive.Perfect.I’dnevermetsomeonesoagreeableyetsostubborn.
Wewereflushagainsteachother,herfloweryscentinvadingmynostrils.
“SeenyourAuntTildarecently?”Myhandslidtohercheek,palmingit.Shetookaraggedbreath,herentirebodytremblingtomybriefesttouch.
Iwonderedhowreceptiveshewastoherex-husband.
Howhardshequiveredwhenpressedagainstsomeoneshe’dactuallychosen.
SomeonewhosearmsIsentherdirectlyto.
“Yeah,Idid,infact,theotherday…”Shestammered,lettingmetugherintoposition.Herthighsstraddledmyrightleg.Iangledhersoherclitpressedagainstmymuscledquads.“Uhm,which,Iguess,wasTuesday?”
Shewasn’tthinkingstraight.
Unfortunately,neitherwasI.
Idippedmyheaddownatthesametimeshetiltedhersup,herlipspartingforme.Itookhermouthinmine,pressingmykneebetweenherthighs,feelinghermusclessealingagainstme.Amoanfellfromhermouth.Shepushedherbreaststomychest,rubbingagainstmeeverywhere,cravingfriction.Mytonguedancedwithhers,andIgatheredherfaceinmyhands,deepeningthekiss,trailingmymouthdownherchin,thenherneck,stoppingtodrawalazycirclearoundherracingpulsewiththetipofmytonguewhenIreachedthesensitivepartofherthroat.
Herfingernailsdugintomyshoulders.Shewasclosetoclimaxingfromkissingalone.Wewereelectrictogether,andIwonderedwhenshewasgoingtodrawtheline.TorealizethethingsIwantedfromherweren’tthingsshewaswillingtooffer.
“OhmyGod,Kill,”sheyelped.
RatherthanpointingoutGoddidn’texist,mymouthcontinueditsjourneysouth,tohercollarbone,thentohertits,whichIcupped,mytongueslidinglikeanarrowbetweenthem.Shegrabbedmyheadandpushedittoonenipple.Isuppressedachuckle,peelingoffthesideofherdress,slippingherpink,erectnippleintomymouthandsuckingit.Shesighedintomyhair,herlittletalonsgrazingmyshouldersasshedraggedherhandsdownmyback,claimingmyasscheekslikeshewastryingtosqueezewateroutofthem.
“Givemeeverything.”Shelolledherheadbackandforth,herlipsagainstmyhair,mumbling,“Everyinchofyou.Iwanteverythingyougivethemandmore.”
Them.
ThewomenI’dpaid.
ThewomenIwasgoingtocontinuepayingbecausePersephonewasn’tborn,prepped,andmeanttofulfillmydarkfantasies.Thatwasoutofthequestion.
Shewastoogood.
Tooinnocent.
Tooprecious.
Andbesides,IhadtobethedumbestmanonplanetEarthtodeliberatelytanglemylifewithhersanymorethanitalreadywas.
Imovedtoherothernipple,lapping,pulling,andbiting.Teasingherwithmymouth,Ibroughthertothebrinkofanorgasm,toapointshewashumpingmylegshamelessly.Iknewshewasclose.Thetremorsinherthighstoldmeso.
Ichosethatmomenttoripmymouthfromhersandstepaway.
Shenearlyfellonthedesk.Iclutchedherwaistandtuggedherbacktome,tiltingherchinup.“DoIstillkisslikeahungryRottweiler?”
Iwaspleasedtofindmyvoicewasthesamedry,boredrumble.
Sheclearedherthroat,bonelessagainstme.
“You’reimproving.Thisonewasbetter.”
“Better,butnotperfect?”Iarchedaneyebrow,amused.
Sheshookherhead,grinningmischievouslywhileworkingmyzipper.“Sadly,westillhavetopractice.Often.”
Icouldn’thelpit.
Ilaughedintoourkiss.
ItwasthefirsttimeI’dlaughedinyears.
Maybedecades.
Anditfelt…new.Good
“Nowshowmewhyyouputacontinentbetweenyouandyourmistresses.Whatcouldyoudotothemthatissokinky?”
Shedidn’tgivemetimetoanswer.Withmyzipperundone,shetuggedatmyhandanddraggedmetothehallway,glancingaround,waitingformetoleadthewaytomybedroom.IdideventhoughIknewsheknew.
KnewshetookatourofmyhousewhenIwasn’thome.IsawherinthecameraswhenPetarshowedittoher.
Ishutthedoorbehindus,lockingitforgoodmeasure,andshesteppedinfrontofme.Wigglingoutofherdress,sheletitpoolontheflooraroundherlikeafrostedlake.
Shesnatchedmyhand,wrappingitaroundthefrontofhersnowyneck.
“Isthisyourjam?”Herchestroseandfelltotherhythmofherfranticheartbeats,hereyeszingingwithexhilaration.“Youdidittheday…thattime…”
Ikickedheroutscreaming.
“Or…”Shetrailedoff,slidingmyhanddownherbody,allthewaytothecurveofherassuntilIreachedthecrack.“Maybethis?Idon’tminddoingthingstoyou,either.Idon’tmindanything,Cillian.Aslongasit’swithme.”
Myresolvewasdissolvingfasterthanediblethongsinaseedybachelor’spartyinVegas.
Thedevilonmyshouldertoldmeitwasn’tmyjobtowarnheroffsleepingwithme.
Theangelonmyshoulderwas…well,currentlyduct-tapedandgaggedinthedevil’strunk.
“Idon’tfuckfair,”Iwarned.
Myhandwasstillinherpalm.Shemovedmyfingersintothefoldsbetweenherlegs,spreadingherthighsforme.Idippedmyindexfingerinsideher.Shetookmyfingerandsuckeditclean.
Idied.Theend.
Fine.Ididnotdie.ButIwasgettingclosetoit,andallthereasonsIshouldn’tsleepwithher—mycontrol,mycondition,howshewasentirelytoogoodforme—werestartingtosoundlikemoreofthesameBS.
“Showmeyourtruecolors,”shecroaked,hervoicebreakingwithemotions.
“They’reugly,”Isaidflatly.
Sheshookherhead.“Nottome.You’llneverbeuglytome.”
Thatwasallittooktomeltmydeterminationintoapuddleofnothing.Grabbingherhairfrombehind,Ibroughtherlipstomineinapunishingkiss.
“DoIneedasafeword?”Shesuckedinabreath.
“Yourmouthwillbetoooccupiedfortalking.Tapanysurfacetwice,andI’llstop.”
Ithrustheragainstthewindowoverlookingmygarden,buttnaked,titsandpussysmashedagainsttheglass,shovingmydresspantsdownmyhipsandfreeingmycock.Shewhimpered,wigglingherassinmydirection,arching,begging,pleading.Shewassowetherjuicesmadeherthighssticktogether.Ikickedherlegsopenandkneadedherasssorough,Ileftpinkmarksalloverit.Iwatcheddownonmywife’sangelicfacefrombehindasrealitysankitsclawsintoher.
Shewaspressedagainstawindowoverlookingmyyard—butalsosomeoneelse’sprivategarden.Shewasnakedasthedayshewasborn,abouttogetfuckedsohardwomeninneighboringzipcodeswereabouttogetsecondhandorgasms.Persephonegulpedbutdidn’tstopmewhenIleaneddown,pickedupherdrenchedpanties,rolledthemintoaball,andstuffedthemintohermouth.
FlowerGirlgaggedonhersensiblecottonunderwear,hereyeswatering.Istayedstill,waitingtoseeherfistrisingintheair,tappingitout.SensingIwastestingthewater,shesplayedherfingersoverthewindow,givingmeanod.
Bringiton.
Iplowedintoherinonego.
Shecriedout,herpantiesmufflinghermoan.Myneighborcametrottingouttohispatioholdingabeer,wearingawifebeaterandsmartdresspantsasIknewhewould.Everynightattensharp,ArmieGuzman,aWellsFargobanker,cameouttowaterhisrosebushes.
Persephone’seyeswidenedasIbegantomoveinsideher.Hewasstandingdirectlyinfrontofuswithafullviewofherbeinghammeredagainstawindow.
ShewhimperedwhenIdroveintoheragain,smackingherass,leavinganimprint.
“Taptwice.”Myteethsankintoherneck,remindinghershehadawayout.Thewaysherespondedtomythrustswithherbackarchingtoldmeshewasn’ttheinnocentlittlethingI’dmadeherouttobeinmyhead.
Iwantedhertotellmeitwastoomuch.Toosoon.Tooperverted.Toprovetomewedidn’tfitinallthewaysIsuspectedwedid.Ifshewerecoldandunresponsive,walkingawayfromheronceshewaspregnantwouldbeeasy.
Fine.Noteasy.Doable
Sheshookherhead,meetingmehalfway,grabbingmyhandfrombehindandputtingitonherassagain.
Ispankedheragain.
Andagain.
Andagain.
Andagain.
Sheturnedherheadtostareatme,eyeshalf-lidded,drunkonwhatweweredoing.Tomakemattersworse,eachtimeIdroveinsideher,IleftasmallpartofmyselfIwasn’tpreparedtoletgoof.
Ashardofself-control.
Igrabbedherjawandredirectedherfacetotheneighbor’sbackyard.
“Playwithyourtitsforhim,”Iordered.“Makeitworthhiswhile.”
Iwastryingtopushherasfarasshecouldgo,inhopesshe’dtapout,turnaround,agreetotheIVF,andleavemethefuckalone.
Shedidasshewastold,playingwithherselfforhim,pinching,tugging,caressingtheshapeofherheavybreasts.Themiddle-agedmanlookedupfromhisrosebushesandhalted,hisfacetilteduptomywindow.
PersephonePenrosewasgood.
Proper.
Sweet.
…andfuckingdepraved,justlikeme.
Thatmadeheraverypowerfuldrug.
“That’sit,”Igrowledintoherear,pumpingharderasgoosefleshprickledoneveryinchofherskin.“Openyourthighsandsmearyourjuicesonmywindowtoshowyournewneighborwhatyourhusbanddoestoyou,mysweet,beautifulslut.”
Surely,shewasgoingtothrowinthetowel.
Shecouldn’t…
Wouldn’t…
Shedid.
Obeying,shepartedherthighsandplayedasIslammedintoherfrombehind.
Themanwasstillglaring,hisfacecarefullyexpressionlessasmywiferubbedherpussyagainstthewindowwhileIwasfuckingherfrombehind,thefrictiononherclitwreakinghavocthroughherbody.Herinnermusclesclenchedaroundme,soIknewshewasclose.Ibentherover,L-shaped,inapositionthatallowedfordeeperpenetration.ThenIgrabbedbothherasscheeksandpoundedhermercilessly.Herpalmsrakedthewindow,leavingsweatyhandprints.
Wewerebothsoakingwet.Iglanceddownatherjiggly,bruisedass,hatinghowmuchIlovedtheview.
Thepowershehadovermedisgustedme.ShewouldneverknowhowmuchIcravedher.HowmuchIpreferredheraboveallothers.
Howitfeltlikehergloriousyellowhairwoundandloopedaroundmywristsandfeet,likeacreatureoutofaGreekmythology,chainingustogether.
Shespatherunderwearout.“Holyshit,I’mcoming.”
Herlegsshook,andshefellonherhandsandkneestothecarpetedfloor,spentandthoroughlyscrewed.
Iwrappedanarmaroundherlowerstomach,massagingherclittomilkanotherclimaxoutofher.Stilldrivingintoher,Ichasedmyownrelease,doggy-style
Aminutelater,myballstightened,andIfelttheeuphoricreleaseofacarnalfuckemptyinginsidemywifejustasshefoundhersecondclimax.
ThemomentIwasdone,Ipulledout,wipingmystill-harddickonherasscheek.Istood,alittlewoozyfromtheorgasm,quicklydressingandregainingmycontrol.
“God.Ican’tbelievehesawus.”Persephonecollapsed,buryingherfaceinthecarpet,herredandpinkassstaringbackatme.“I’mneverleavingthishouse.”
“Yes,youare,andsoon,”Iquipped.
Iwasn’tdoneparadingherlikeawinninghorse.
“I’mmortified.”
“Don’tbe.”
“Why?”Shemoanedintomycarpet.Isupposeditwasabadtimetocommentitcostmorethanhersister’sentirestudioapartmentandaskhernottostainit.
“Thewindowistintedfromtheoutside,”Isaiddryly,bucklingmyselfup,hopingtohellshewasgoingtofallpregnanttonight.Notonlywouldithelpmegetridofmynaggingfixationwithher,butitwouldkillanypotentialex-husbanddrama.SomethingIsincerelydidn’twanttodealwith.Ididn’tenvythebastardifhecamebackforwhatwasnowmine.Iwasneverinasharingmood.
Shewhippedherhead,hereyesflaring.
“Areyoukiddingme?”
“Idon’thaveasenseofhumor,remember?”Ibuttonedmyshirt,whichwashalfwayundone,thoughIdidn’trecalltakingitoff.
“Whatwashelookingat,then?”Shesatup,turningaroundtofaceme,stillbucknaked.
“Theflowerbedsonmybalcony.Mylandscapergrowssuperiorroses.Driveshimmad.”
“Whydidn’tyousayso?”
“Watchingyousquirmturnedmeon.”Ileaneddowntopathermessyblondhairlikeshewasapetbeforewalkingovertomyreclinerandopeningmycigarboxnexttoit.
“Excuseme?”
“Gladly.Youareexcused.Havebeenforthesixminutessincewefinished.”Iwavedheroff.
Hertitswerefantastic,especiallywhenshestoodsuddenly,inajerkymovement.Fullandpear-shaped,withpinknipplesliketwosmalldiamondstuds.Mywifegrabbedherdressfromthefloor,slidingbackintoitwithashakeofherhead.
“Petar’llcallthedriverforyou.”Ituckedthecigartothesideofmymouth,textingmyestatemanagerwhileshejammedherfeetintothenastypairofManoloBlahniksthatgaveherblisters.
“Screwyou,Kill.”
“Soundslikeaplan.Howabouttomorrow?Ihaveanopeningatlunch.Ifthatdoesn’twork,you’llhavetowaituntilI’mbackfromworkataroundninethirty.”
Sheturnedaroundwithoutaword,stompingtothedoor.Shestoppedatthethreshold,herhandtouchingthewallasshepeeredatmefrombehindherslendershoulder.
“I’mthesameasyou,youknow.”
“Highlydoubtit.”Ididn’tlookupfrommyphone,alreadyansweringanemailfrommylegaldepartment.Notmyfinestshowofgentlemanlycharacter,butIknewifIlookedather,I’daskhertostay.
“Iliketoseeyousquirm,too.”
Asmirktouchedmylips.
“That’sadorable.Aimhigh,FlowerGirl.”
“That’swhy,whenIdancedwithAndrewArrowsmithtonight,Iagreedtohisproposal,”sheexplainedcalmly.
Myeyesflewupfromthephoneinaninstant.
“Whatproposal?”
“Oh,lookiehere.”Shesmiledsweetly.“NowIhaveyourattention.”
“Whatproposal?”Irepeated,mytonelower.
“Totutorhischildren.”
IsawwhatArrowsmithwasdoingthere.
Puttingmywifeclosetomysecret.Tomyshame.Totheloadedgunintheroom.MakingherrealizewhatIwas,whatitmeant,howinferiorIwastoherblatantperfection.
Idartedfrommyseat,abouttogiveherapieceofmymind.
Sheliftedahand.
“Saveit,hubs.Youhaveyourconditions,andIhavemine.OneofthemwasIwantedtokeepworking.”
“Asapre-Kteacher,notmyarchenemy’saupair.Thisgoesagainstthenon-competecontract,which,bytheway,yousigned.”
“Youcan’ttellmewhattodowithmycareer.”
Hervoicewaspeaceful,likethesailingcloudsshelovedsomuch.
Red-hotangerslitheredinmyveins.Mypulsequickened.
Notgood.
“Ijustdid.”Iflashedmyteeth,smokeseepingfrommymouth.“AndI’msayingitagain,forthebraincellsintheback:you’renotworkingforAndrewArrowsmith.See?Easy.”
Sheclaspedherhandstogether,allsugarandhoney.“Inthatcase,you’renotdrillingintheArctic.”
Andjustlikethat,Iwasnolongerindangerofaskinghertostickaround.
“Sorry,sweetheart,yourjobisridingmycock,notgivingmebusinessadvice.”
Shenodded.“Thenyoursisknockingmeup,nottellingmewhoIcanvisitduringmyweekendsandwhotoworkwith.”
“Thisisaviolationofourcontract,”Iwarned.
Shepretendedtothinkaboutit,thenhitchedashoulderup.
“Leavemethen.”
“Youknowdivorceisnotanoption,”Igrittedout.
Shewinced.“Itdoestakethestingoutofthecontract,doesn’tit?”
Thelittlesh…
Shehadapoint.
“I’mgoingtomakeyourlifeverymiserableifyoudefyme,Persephone.”
Mywifewavedherhandaroundassheslippedthroughmydoor.
“Beenthere,donethat.Night,hubs!”Thenextday,Iloiteredintheteachers’loungeduringmylunchbreak,clutchingtheleftoverTrader’sJoeenchilada,shiftingfromfoottofootlikeapunishedkid.
Theweltsonmybuttweresore,butitwasthescarsCillianleftonmysoulthatscorchedpainfully.
SexwithKillwasn’tgood.No.
Itwasmind-blowing.Earth-shattering.LikenothingI’dexperiencedbefore.
ButtheswiftnessinwhichhepulledoutofmeandregainedhiscomposuremademesolightheadedIcouldn’tbreathe.NotbecauseIexpectedhoursofspooningandpillowtalk,buttheswitchfromresponsivetoharshgavemewhiplash.Theferocityofmyfeelingstowardhimfrightenedme,andtheneedtoprotecthimfromharm’swaymademeseasick.
Notjustseasick,deranged.Immoral
I’dneversacrificedmymoralsforPax.
Igotitnow.WhyCillianpaidforsex.Itwasn’tthathistastesransomuchontheunconventionalside.Helostcontrolwhenhewaswithawoman.Hecamealive,hecursed,heletgo.Thelayersofinhibitionhewrappedhimselfinshedlikeasnake’sskin,leavinghimexposedandraw.Hewrithed,andtrembled,andgrowled,hisheartracingerraticallyagainstmybackwhenheenteredme.
I’dgatheredmybelongingsandscurriedoutofhishousebeforehehadthechancetokickmeout.Icouldn’triskanotherrejection.Couldn’tlethimwalkallovermelikeIwastheUnwelcomerugoutsidehismansion’sdoor.
IjusthopedtheplanIweavedatthecharityeventwasgoingtowork.
“Surprise!”twofamiliarvoicesscreechedfrombehindme,pullingmeoutofmyreverie.
IturnedaroundtofindBelleandAshatthedoor,holdingbagsoftakeoutfood.Idiscardedthehalf-eatenenchiladaononeoftheroundtables.
“What’reyoudoinghere?”Iflungmyarmsovertheirshoulders,gatheringthemintoagrouphug.
“Well,MadameMayhemdoesn’topenuntilthisevening,andstaringatthewallathomegotoldabout,let’ssee”—mysistercheckedherToryBurchwatch—“twoandahalfhoursago.”Shestruttedinwearingaleatherminidressandanoversized,puffysweater.Takingaseatatafreetable,sheunpackedhertakeoutbags.
“AndIhadabreakin-betweenclasses,soIthoughtI’dcheckinonyou.Youmissedourweeklyhangoutlastweek,andIgotworried.Ilovemybrother,butIalsowouldn’ttrusthimwithaplasticspoon.”Aislinglaughed.
That’sfair,consideringhe’dprobablytrytoshoveitupmyprivates.
Thescentofmeatballs,pasta,fettucciniAlfredo,andgarlicbreadmademystomachgrumble.Theybothsatdown,staringatmeexpectantly.Right.GuessIneededtojointhem.
Heavingasigh,Islidintoachair,hissingwhenmybuttmadecontactwiththeplastic.
Cillian,yousonofagun.TheminuteIpopyourheirout,I’mnaminghimAndrew.Andrea,ifit’sagirl.
“Sohow’slifewithLucifer?”Bellestabbedameatballwithaplasticfork,tossingthewholethingintohermouth.
Ispunspaghettiaround,givingitsomethought.MyfriendsandsisterknewCillianandIlivedinseparateplaces,butchalkedituptomywantingtotakethingsslow.
Iwastooembarrassedtoadmittheideatoliveapartcamefromhim.
Begrudgingly,IhadtoadmitKilltickedeveryboxonthegoodhusbandlist,evenifontechnicality.Hespoiledmewithalavishwardrobeandstate-of-the-artapartment,paidmydebt,keptthebadguysatbay,andworshippedmybodyinwaysIdidn’tknowwerepossible,introducingmetothingsI’dneverdonebefore.
HewasonlystingywithwhatIcravedthemost.
Passion.Emotion.Devotion.
DemandingthosefromKillwasn’tonlybreakingourcontractbutitwasalsosmashingitintominusculepiecesandthrowingthedustintheairlikeconfetti
Notonlywasitfoolishbutitwasfutile,too.Cilliandidn’thavethewordemotioninhisvocabulary,muchlessanideaofhowtofeelone.I’dyettoseehimsad,hurt,orhopeless.Theclosesthe’devergottentofeelingsomethingwasannoyance.Iirritatedhimoften.Buteventhen,hegainedcontroloverhismoodwithrecord-breakingspeed.Otherwise,myhusbandreducedhishearttonothingmorethanafunctionalorgan.Anempty,whiteelephant.
Chewing,Isaid,“It’sokay,Iguess.Everycouplehasitsupsanddowns,right?”
Belle’seyeszippedtomyhalf-openshoulderbaghangingfrommyseat.Adrawingoneofmystudents,Whitley,hadmadeforGretaVeitchpeekedfromit,withtheelderlywoman’snameonit,surroundedbyflowersandhearts.
“DoesheknowyoustillseePax’sgrandmothereveryweek?”Belleasked.
“Hefoundoutyesterday.”Islicedameatballwithmyplasticfork.
“Snap.”Mysisterwinced.“Howdidyoubreakthenews?”
“Ididn’t.Someoneelsedid.”
“Who?”Ash’scornflowereyeswidened.
Ididn’tknowforsure,butitdidn’ttakeageniustoputtwoandtwotogether.TheArrowsmiths.
Ishrugged.“Notreallysure.Butit’soutintheopennow.HedemandedIstopvisitingher.”
“Bastardhasnorighttodemandyouflushthetoiletaftertakingadumpathisplace.”Bellenarrowedhereyes,clearlyignoringhervowtostoptrash-talkingmyhusbandafterlosingapokergame.“Yourmarriagecamewithaheftypricetag,andeveryfeministboneinyourbodyain’toneofthem.”
“Irefusedhim,”Isaidcalmly.
Ashreachedtorubmyarm.“Atleastyoutried.”
“Andsucceeded.”Ibroughtanotherforkfulofspaghettitomymouth.“Hebackedoff.”
“What?”bothBelleandAshsquealed.
“Areyousure?”Aislinglookedbetweenmysisterandme,hermouthhangingopen.“I’veknownKillsincethedayIwasbornandcancounthislossesononehand.Onefinger,actually.Maybehalfafinger.Apinky.”
“Positive,”Isaid,leaningforwardanddroppingmyvoicetoawhisper.“CanIaskyouafewquestions,Ash?”
“Goeswithoutsaying.”
“DoesCillianhaveademonfountaininhisgarden?”
I’dthoughtaboutthatfountainsincethedayHunterhadpointeditoutduringourtimeattheranchbutcouldn’tfindit.Yesterday,whileCilliantookmefrombehind,myeyessearchedeverypointinhisgarden.Myonlybetwasthefountainwasinthesmallcourtyardbehindthegarden.Therewasanivy-laceddoorwithhightimberwallsthatseemedoutofstylewiththerestofthegarden.
“Hedoes,”shesaid.“Atleast,hedid.”
Did
Ofcourse.
Maybehejusttorethefountainpriortotheweddingceremony.Eitherway,IknewaskingCillianwasfutile.Iwasnevergoingtogetastraightanswer.
“Thanks.Nextquestion.”Iclearedmythroat.“DoyouknowwhathisbeefwithAndrewArrowsmithisabout?Thereseemstobebucketsofbadbloodbetweenthem,butyourolderbrotherisn’tthemostforthcomingmanofourgeneration.”
“Criminalunderstatement.Youcouldextractmoreinformationfromagarlicpress.”Belleunscrewedabottleofwater,rollinghereyes.“Hashtagfact.”
“IknowofArrowsmith.”Aislingfrowned,weighingherwords.“There’sanagegapbetweenCillianandme.IwasstillindiaperswhenheandArrowsmithwerefriends,butfrommyunderstanding,theywereinseparableatapoint.Thewaythestorygoes—mindyou,Ipickedscrapsandpiecesofitfromdifferentsourcesandpuzzleditalltogetherinmyhead—KillandAndrewwerebestfriendsfrombirth.Theywerebornonthesameday,atthesameBostonhospital,bothalittleunderweight.MyfatherhadmetAndrew’sfatherwhilebothofthemwerewatchingtheirnewbornsonsthroughaglasswindow.Shortlyafter,AthairhadhiredAndrew’sdadasanaccountantforRoyalPipelines.CillianandAndrewdideverythingtogether,andwhenitwastimeforKilltogotoEvonasperourfamilytradition,AthairfootedhalfthebillandsentAndrewalongwithhim.KillandAndywerelikebrothers.Spendingtheirsummervacationstogether.Ridingtogether,havingsleepovers,planningworlddominationsidebyside.UntilAthairfiredAndrew’sdadandsuedhimforallthemoneyhe’dstolenfromRoyalPipelines,leavingtheArrowsmithfamilypennilessandstrugglingtomakeendsmeet.AthaircutoffthecashflowtoAndrew’seducation,punishingthesonforhisfather’ssins.Andrew’sdadrefusedtoadmitdefeatandpullhissonoutofEvonthefirstyear.Hewantedtosaveface.Thefamilyresortedtobeggingtheirrelativesforloans.SomesayAndrew’smother,Judy,becamesomerichguy’splaythingtokeeptheirheadsabovewater.Andrew’sparentsdivorcednotlongafter.HedroppedoutofEvonthefollowingyearandmovedintoatinyapartmentinSouthiewithhismotherandsister.Theirlivesfellapart,andsodidtheclosefriendshipbetweenAndyandKill.ThefamiliesdrewaninvisiblelineinBoston,splittingitdownthemiddle,avoidingoneanotheratallcosts.”
Andrewknowsmysecret,Killhadsaid.
Icouldn’tthinkofonethingthatwouldembarrasstheimmaculate,flawlessCillianFitzpatrick.ButifAndrewusedtobehisbestfriend—hehadaccesstohissoul,too.
Backwhenhehadone.
“DidAndrewtrytoretaliateforyourfather’sdecisionthroughKill?”Iasked.
Ashshookherhead,hitchingashoulderup,inabeats-mekindofway.
“MomsaidtheoneyearAndrewandCillianspentinEvontogetheralmostcostherason.Myolderbrotherlostalotofweight,quitplayingpolo,andwithdrewcompletelyfromtheworld.Mybrotherhasalwaysbeencoldanddifferent,butafterthatyear,everyoneagreedhe’dbecome,well…”Ashtookadeepbreath,droppinghergazetothescarredtableinfrontofus.“Soulless.”
Thewordslammedintome,burstinglikeacid.Iwantedtoflipthetableanditscontentsoverandscream,hehasasoul.Somuchsoul.Morethanyou’deverknow.
Bellepassedmeadrinkofwater,sensingthethreadsofmypoisetattering.AndrewdidsomethingterribletoCillian.ThatmuchIwascertainof.
AndCillian,inreturn,becamewhohewastoday.
“Thanksforsharingthiswithme,Ash.”Ireachedtosqueezeherhand.
Shesealedmyhandinhers.“That’swhatsisters-in-lawarefor,right?Justpleasedon’ttellKill.He’llneverforgiveme.”
“Yoursecret’ssafewithus,”Belleassuredher.
Thequestionwas,wasmyhusband’ssecretsafewithAndrewArrowsmith?
Onethingwasforsure:Iwasn’tabouttowaittofindout.
Laterthatday,Iwalkedintoanemptyapartment.
Thenakednessofitdidn’tregisteratfirst,maybebecauseIneverconsidereditfullymine.
Thefurnitureremainedinplace,shiny,futuristic,andcherry-pickedbytheinteriordesigner.Thekitchenappliancestwinkled,thequirkyfamilypicturesandscentedcandlesI’dbroughtwithmewhenImovedinwerestillperchedoverthemantel.
Istrodeintomywalk-inclosettogetreadyforayogaclassandrealizeditwasempty.
Myclothesweregone.Soweremyshoes,mytoiletries,andthefewpersonalbelongingsI’dstashedinoneoftheguestrooms.Itiptoedthroughtheapartment,mypulsestutteringagainstmywrist.HadIbeenrobbed?
Itmadenosense.ByrneandKaminskiexitedmylife,leavingskidmarksintheirwake.IknewIwasunderSamBrennan’sprotectionforaslongasIwasCillian’swife,whichhadaddedaperversesenseofinvincibilitytomyexistence.
Besides,burglarswouldhavetakentheexpensiveJacksonPollockpaintingsandflashyelectronicsIhadn’tevenbotheredtolearnhowtouse.
Ipaddedbarefoottothekitchenandfoundanoteonthegraniteisland.
Inthespiritoftryingtoknockyouupandgetridofyouassoonaspossible,Iammovingyoutomyestateuntilyouarewithchild.
Faithlessly,
Cillian
Myinitialinstinctwastopickupthephoneandinformmyhusband,indecibelsmorefittingtoanIronMaidenconcert,thatthepigscalled—theywantedtheirchauvinismback.
Ibitmytongueuntilwarm,thickbloodfilledmymouth,thendrewaraggedbreathanddecided—again—tobeatKillathisowntwistedgame.
Cillianwasconcernedabouthispositioninmylifeandwantedtokeepmeclose.Whateverbullshitexcusehegavehimselfformovingmystuffintohismansion—theArrowsmiths,myvisitingMrs.Veitch,theshapeofthemoon—didn’tmatter.Thebottomlinewas,hewasbreakinghisownrule—nolivingunderthesameroof—tokeepmeclose.
Itsurprisedmethathehadletmegetawaywithbreakingthenon-competeclause.WhenI’dtoldhimIwasgoingtoworkforAndrewArrowsmith,andthatifitdidn’tsuithim,hewaswelcometofileforadivorce,Iwasalmostcertainhe’dkickmeoutofhismansionandlife.
IthadalsosurprisedmehowheseemedtoacceptthatIkeptintouchwithGretaVeitch.Notthathehadanysayinthematter,butIfiguredhe’dputmethroughhelloncehe’drealizedIwasn’tgoingtocatertohiswhimslikeeveryoneelsedid.
IprobablyshouldhavetoldhimaboutmyweeklyvisitstoGreta.Thenagain,Killnevergavemeachancetotalktohim.Sincehehadn’taskedmeaboutmyrelationshipwithPaxtonevenonce,Ihadn’tofferedanyinformation.
Intruth,PaxandIweredonebeforeI’devenfoundoutthathelostallourmoney.
BeforeI’dseteyesonmyex-husbandforthefirsttime.
BeforeI’dtuggedPaxtonbehindalivingsculptureforamake-outsession,franticandfullofvengeance,inapatheticattempttoforgethowCillianrejectedme.
Moveon.
Marrysomeoneboring,likeyou.
Paxtonhadworkedattheweddingasapartofthesecuritystaffandenjoyedmyattentionstheentirenight.EverytimeIbumpedintoKill,withhisfrostydetachment,IranbacktoPaxton’sarms.Bythetimethesunrosethenextmorning,withSailorandHunterofftotheirhoneymoon,Paxtonwastuckedinsidemybed,armflungovermynakedback,snoringcontently.
He’dstuckaround,andI’dneverquestionedhisexistenceinmylife.
IjustthoughtAuntieTildahadworkedhermagicandsentmealovetohelpmeforgettheoneIwasnevermeanttohave.
Grabbingmybag,IslidintomyTeslaanddrovetheshortdistancetoCillian’shouse.Petaropenedthegateanddirectedmetomynewparkingspot.Heledmetoaroomonthesecondfloor,rightnexttothemasterbedroom,blabbinghappilyaboutthehometheatersystem,joggingtrailthatframedtheproperty,andindoorpoollikeaneagerrealtor.
“Petar,canyoushowmethedemonfountain?”Iaskedhimwhenweclimbedupthestairs.
Hefroze,thenshookhishead.“Mr.Fitzpatrickwouldn’twantmeto.No.”
Dangit.
Iwasn’tsurprisedtofindallmythingsinmyroom.Mypossessionswereunpacked,andmyclothesfolded,hung,andarrangedneatlyinawalk-incloset.
“Anythingyouneed,justletusknow.”Petarbowedhishead,animpishbeamonhisface.“Seriously.Ahome-cookedmeal,extrapillows…thenameofagoodshrink.I’matyourservice,Persephone.Oncalltwenty-fourseven.”
Chuckling,Igavehimthethumbs-up.“Thanks,Petar.You’reastar.”
HeturnedtoleavewhileIpulledoutmylaptop.Myyogaclasshadalreadystarted,soImightaswellpreparenewmaterialfornextweek’sschoollessonplans.
“MayIsaysomething?”Petarstoppedatthedoor.
Ilookedupfrommylaptop,surprised.“Ofcourse.”
“Ican’ttellyouhowhappyeveryoneinthisplaceistohaveyouhere.I’mnotsurehowexactlyyoumanagedtopersuadeMr.Fitzpatrickintomovingin—I’veneverseenawomanwhowasn’tanemployee,hissister,orhismothersetfootinthishouse—butI’mgladnonetheless.”
Mysmilestayedintact,butsomethingrattledinmychest.SomethingveryclosetomaternalwrathIcouldn’tcompletelyunderstand.HowlonelywasCillianthathehadn’tentertainedanywomeninthisplacebefore?
ThefactKillhadbrokensomanyofhiscontractclauseswithmehadplantedaseedofhopeinmyheart.IknewifIwatereditwithwishfulthinkingandfaith,itwouldgrowandblossomintoexpectations.
Andexpectationsfromamanwhosworetoneverloveyouwereadangerousthing.
“Iintendtostickaround.”Ikeptmyvoiceneutral.
“Ihopeyouwill.”Petarnodded.“Andifthere’sanythingIcandotomakeyoustay,pleaseletmeknow.”
Assoonashespunonhisheelandleft,ImademywayintoCillian’sroom.
IhadsomehomeworktodoifIwantedtolearnwhomyhusbandreallywas.
IendedupdozingoffonCillian’sbed,themixtureofadrenaline,heartache,andangermakingmysystemscrash.Ishouldhavegonebacktomyroom,buthislinensweredrenchedwithhisscent,andthetemptationtonuzzleintothemwastoomuch.Besides,pissingoffmynewhusbandhadbecomesomethingIwasdazzlinglygoodat—whybreakatradition?
Itwashourslater,afterthesunhadalreadyset,whenanudgetomyfootstirredmeawake.Istretchedontheking-sizedbed,blinkingtheworldintofocus
Killsatontheedgeofthemattress,cladinasharpnavysuit,completewithagraytieandapeacoat.Hisaroma—ofice,thecrispnight,andcedarwood—toldmehejustgothome.Didn’tevenstoptotakehiscoatoff.
“That’snotyourbed,”heannounced.
“IfI’mgoodenoughtowarmit,I’mgoodenoughtosleepinit.”
Ipusheduponmyelbows,blowingmyhairoutofmyeyes.
“Noonesaidyou’regoodenoughtowarmit.Itookyouonthekitchencounterandagainstthewindow,notmybed.”
“Keepingtrackandcherishingeverymoment,Isee.”Ibattedmyeyelashes.
“Don’tberidiculous.”
“Aww,butyoustartedit,hubs.What’sthetime,anyway?”Ilookedaround.Mystomachgrowled,beggingtobefed.
“Ninethirty.”
JesusChristandhisholycrew.
“Doyoualwaysworkthislate?”
Heundidhistiewithonehand,shruggingoffhiscoatatthesametime.
“Mysocialcalendaris—bychoice—wideopen.AsyourlegsshouldbeeverynightwhenIcomebackhome,bytheway.ItisnotmyjobtoundressyoutocandlelightandFrankSinatra.”
“IpreferSamCookeandincense.”
“Idon’tcarewhatyouprefer.”
“Rectifythat,”Isaiddryly.“Today.Orlivealifeofcelibacy.I’mnotyourblowupdoll.Ifyouwantmetofulfillmymaritalduties,youbetterbelieveyouaregoingtofulfillyours.Youwillnever,evertouchmythingswithoutmypermissionagain,movemearoundlikeI’machesspiece,ormakeadecisionaboutourliveswithoutconsultingmefirst.Additionally,youwillbehomeeveryeveningnotaminuteafterseven,sowecanhaveamealtogetherbeforewehavesex.Likeanormalcouple.”
“Whatpartofourrelationshipgaveyoutheillusionofanormalcouple,thefactIboughtyourasslikeyouwereadiscountedbreadmakeronBlackFriday,orhadyousignathirty-seven-pagecontract,anNDA,andawaiverbeforeputtingaringonyourfinger?”Hetossedhistieandcoatonanupholsteredreclinerinthecorneroftheroom.
Iignoredhiswords.ThescartissueAndrewhadwrappedaroundthismanmadeithardtopiercethroughandtouchhiscore.
Tough,butnotimpossible,Ihoped.
Iwasn’taquitter,andIsureashellwasn’tgoingtoquitonamanwhoIwasprettysurehadbeenletdownbyeveryoneelseinhislife.
“Furthermore,”Idrawledinmyteachertone,ignoringhiswords,“duringdinner,we’llperformthetaxingtaskofsmalltalk.”
Icouldswearmyhusbandactuallypaled.Helookedlikehewasgoingtogag.Icontinued,undeterred.
“You’lltellmeaboutyourday,andI’lldothesame.Then,andonlythen,willwemakelove.”
HiseyesnearlypoppedoutoftheirsocketsatthementionoftheL-word.
“Theanswerisno.”
“Fine.Let’sgothroughthewholeroutinewhereIrefuseyouafewweeksinarow,andyoumarchbacktoyourbedunsatisfied,thengototheoffice,seeHunterwavingaround3Dultrasoundpicturesofhisfuturechild,thendoitmyway.”Ismiledsunnily.Heopenedhismouth,abouttosaysomethingsnarky,butheknewIwasright.
Heneededanheir.
Ineededmoretimetoprovetohimwecouldbemore.
“Careful,FlowerGirl.”Hewrappedhiscold,strongfingersaroundmyjaw,drawingmeclosetohislipswithasnarl.“Runwithscissorsandyou’llgethurt.”
“I’vebeencutdeepbefore.”
“Whateveryou’retryingtodowon’twork.”
“Humorme,then.”
“Humormefirst.”Hetuggedatmyleg,onehandstillonmyneck,andhoistedmeintohislap.Istraddledhim,wrappingmyarmsaroundhisshoulders.Mycorelandedstraightonhiserection,andwhenIlookeddown,Isawitnestledonthesideofhisleg.Swollen,hard,almosttoomuchtohandle.
Hisfingerstrailedthedelicatespotsonmythroat.
“Icangiveyouanythingyourheartdesires,Persephone.Jewelry,lavishvacations,everyHermèsbageverproduced.”Hebrushedalockofhairfrommycheek,hisvoicesomenacingitalmostsoundeddemonic.“ButIcan’tgiveyoulove.DonotaskmeforsomethingIamincapableofdelivering.”
Ipressedmycheektohispalm,kissingitsoftly,refusingtolethiswordssinkin.
“Myheartisaterribleplace.Nothingevergrowsthere.”
“Stop.”Ishuthimupwithakiss.
Maybeitwasbecausehe’dmovedmehere,intohiskingdom.Draggedmetotheunderworld.Becausehewantedtoprovetohimselfthatmybeingheremeantnothing.
“Eversteponartificialgrass,FlowerGirl?”hemurmuredintomylips.
“Yes,”Igrowled,kissinghimdeeper.
“It’sshinierthanregulargrassbutfeelsawful.”
Youdon’tfeelawfultome.
Hislipsdemandedmysurrender.Iyielded,ridinghismuscledthigh,allconcernsformystill-sorebuttflyingoutthewindow.Hebrokethekiss,hisforeheaddroppingtomine.
“I’mgoingtoruineverygoodthingaboutyou.”
“I’dliketoseeyoutry.”
IproducedwhatI’dfoundearlierthateveningonmytreasurehuntinhisroom.I’drummagedthroughhisdrawers,usingeverypieceofinformationIcouldfindtopiecetogetherthepuzzleofwhohewas.Myhusbandleftmuchtobedesired.Hekepthisroomblankandimpersonal.
Havingseenhiscloset,I’dhadnodoubtCillianwasincapableofanythingbutanarrangedmarriage.Hisclotheswereorganizednotonlybyseason,butalsobycolor,brand,andcut.Hewasn’texactlyafanofsurprises.
Kill’seyesnarrowedatthewhiteribbonIpulledoutofmybra.ItnestledbetweenmybreastswhileIwasasleep.
“Wheredidyoufindthis?”
“Yourcigarbox.”
“Youweregoingthroughmythings.”
“Yourtalentatdeductionisstaggering.”Icurvedaneyebrow,willingmyhearttostopsomersaultinglikearecklesskidinthesun.“Youtookmythingsoutofmyapartmentwithoutconsultingme.Consideritmegettingeven.Whydidyoukeepthefasteningband?”
“Tradition.”
“Please.”Isnorted.“You’renotthesentimentaltype.”
Hepushedoffthebed,seizingtheribbonfrombetweenmyfingers.
“Goodpoint.It’snottoolatetothrowitout.”
Hegallopedtothebathroom,presumablytothetrashcan.
“Shame.Youweresogoodattyinguswithit,”Ipurredfromhisbed.
Hestoppedmidway,turningaround,staringatmeinannoyance.
Atthatmoment,allmyenergywaschanneledintonothavinganorgasmbasedonthatexchangealone.ItwasfittingthatCilliancouldn’tfeelanythingandIwasapuddleoffeels.Iwasangry,depraved,lustful,anddesperate.Everysensewasheightened,everycellinmybodyrawwithcarnalhunger.
“Younoticed.”Adevilishsmirkcurvedonhisface.
Inoticedeverythingaboutthisman,sothiswasn’texactlybreakingnews.
“Whyareyoudoingthat?”Iwetmylips.
“Doingwhat?”Hisdarkeyebrowsfurrowedinmockinnocence.
“LookingatmelikeI’myournextmeal.”
“Becauseyouare,”hedeadpanned.“That’swhyyou’rehere,isn’tit?”
Somethingsizzledbetweenus.Icouldn’tlookawayfromhim.
Headvancedtowardme.Iscootedtothecenterofthebed.Killflippedmeoveronmystomachandpinnedmetothemattress.Pressinghiskneebetweenmythighstoprythemopenwhilemybuttwasintheair,hegrabbedmywristsandlockedthembehindmyback.Thesatinoftheribbonflutteredaroundmywrists,makingmeshiver.Hewrappedtheendsoftheribbon,reversingthedirectiontosecuremeinplace.Hediditquicklyandexpertly,cinchingandcompletingasecondlooptoensureIcouldn’tmovemyarms.
“Sothisishowyouknewhowtotieusbothwithonehand,”Ipanted.
“It’scalledahogtie.”Hegavehisworkofartatug.“Liftyourfeetup.”
Next,hetiedmebythelegs,connectingtheribbonbetweenmywristsandankles.Likealittlepiggyabouttogetbarbecuedinafire.Ilaughedbreathlessly,partlybecauseIwasarousedandpartlybecausetherewassomethingthrillingaboutgivingupcontrol.ThebeddippedasCillianleanedback,examininghisworkbehindme.Icouldn’tseehisexpression,whichsomehowmadethingseverhotter.
“Should’veundressedmefirst,”Imutteredintothelinen,frustrated.
Iwantedoutofmyclothessobadtheyburnedagainstmyskin.
Mydesirescaredme.Itwasforeign,overwhelming;IenjoyedsexwithPaxton,butitwasalsosomethingIcouldgowithout.Thefamished,depravednotionthatcamewithbeingwithKillwasnewandfrightening.
“Doyoutrustme,Persephone?”
Hisvoicesoundedsofaraway,hemightaswellhavebeenonanotherplanet.
“Yes.”
Thespeedandconvictioninmyanswerstartledme.Ididn’tknowwhyItrustedhim,orevenifIshould.IjustknewIdid.Thathewouldneverhurtme.Thathewouldstopifthingswenttoofarformytaste.
Hegotupfromthebedandwalkedtoasmalldeskfacingoneofhiswindows.Icranedmynecktowatchhimfrommyposition,tiedonhisbed,stillinmyconservativeteacherdress.Heopenedadrawerandreturnedwithaletteropener.Myentirebodyblossomedwithgoosebumps.
“Sureaboutthat,FlowerGirl?”Herantheedgeoftheletteropenerovermycalf,sogentlyandteasinglyIwantedtopushmyselfintoit.
“I’mnotscared.”Itrainedmyvoicetosoundasblandashis.
Iwascarefullybowedlikeagift—hisgift—andIwantedhimtounwrapandravishme.
“Why?”Hesoundedcurious.Almost…hopeful?
No.Itcouldn’tbe.
Hopewasanemotion,andKilldidn’tdothose.
“BecauseIknowyouwouldneverhurtme.”
“That’sanoptimisticassumptiontomake.”
“Yousavedmylifethreetimes,andcounting,”Isaid.“That’soptimistic.I’mrealistic.”
Thenextparthappenedsofastmyheadspun.Oneminute,Iwasinmydress,andthenext,itwasrippedfrommybodybytheletteropenerinonecleanmovement.Killgrabbedthefabricsoitdidn’tclingtomyskinandranthebladethroughit,allthewaydownmybutt.Thedresspooledbeneathmewhilemyhusbandgotridofmypanties,clippingthemfromeachside,boomerangingtheletteropenerbacktohisnightstand.
Iwormed,pushingmyassupward,towardhim.ItwassobrazenthatIdidn’trecognizemyselfintheact.Iwasn’tthatgirl.AtleastIdidn’tthinkIwas.ButIguessedadormantpartofmewaswildallalong.Isimplyneverletmyselfexploreit.
Cillianpaused.Foramoment,everythingwassoquiet,Ihalf-suspectedhewasn’tintheroomanymore.Maybeitwasapartofthegame.Thewaiting.Thesuspense.Theanticipation.
“Yourass,”hesaidfinally,pullingawayfromme.“It’s…”
Redashell.Iknow.Ipeedsquattingintheairallday.
“Oh,that.”Ilaugheditoff.“Myskinissupersensitive.Welshheritage,andall.”
“Ididthattoyou,”hesaidgruffly.
“It’snothing,”Iprotested.Anditwas.Yes,hespankedmelastnight,butitwasn’tsomethingIhadn’theardaboutfromfriendsorseenonHBOshows.Heck,I’dbeenspankedworsebymyownmothergrowingup.Anditwasn’tlikeIhadn’twiggledmybuttinhisdirection,askingformore.
Hishandwenttothebondage,andIfelthimunfasteningit,lettingmeloose
“Don’tyoudare.”Iusedmyfirmteachervoice.“Mr.Fitzpatrick,youdidnotaskforpermissiontountieme.YouwillnotdosountilIexplicitlyrequestit.AmIclear?”
Theairwasscorchedwithsex,bloatedwithendorphins.
“Idon’tnormallyseethemthemorningafter,”headmittedtersely.“I’veneverstoppedtowonderwhatitlooks—”
“Don’ttellmeaboutyourwhoreswhilewe’reinbed!”
Iwasscreamingatthispoint.IwassodeepinteachermodethathewasluckyIdidn’tsendhimtotime-out.Hesaidnothing,andIwasannoyedIcouldn’tseewhatwasonhisface.“Actually,don’ttellmeaboutthemoutofit,either.”
“Therearenowhoresanymore,”hebarkedback.“Youmadesureofthat.”
“Good.”Ifeltsupremelyauthoritativeforsomeonewhowastiednakedonabed.“Ihopeyourmistressesgobankruptnowthatyouarenottheretopaythem,andgetarealjobtosupportthemselves.”
“You’reinsane,”heoffered,hisvoiceascalmasever.
“Well,luckyforme,hubs,you’renotchartinghighonthesanityspectrum,either.Nowdowhatyouwanttodotome.Andmakeitworthmywhile.”
Cillianpulledtheknotbetweenmywristsandankles,onegentlehandonmybuttcheek.Heslippedtwofingersbetweenmyfolds.Thesoundofmywetnessagainstthemfilledtheroom.
Iclosedmyeyes,hissing.“Yes.”
Killfingeredme,theslurpsofmywantforhimdrownedbymymoans.Hecurledhisfingerswhenhewasinside,hittingmyG-spot.
Hewasagenerouslover,somethingheomittedfromourconversationduringournegotiations.
Hesnuckhisfreehandtomylowerbelly,proppingmeupandsupportingmybodyashismouthjoinedtheparty,feastingonmydrippingpussyfrombehind,histonguelappingbetweenmyfolds.
Groansofpleasureanddelightescapedbothourmouths,andImentallyyelledatmyselfthatitmeantnothing.Thatthiswasn’tintimacy.Itwassex.Foreplay.Nothingbutameanstoanendforhim.
Idroppedmyheadtotheblacksatinpillows,breathinginhissingularscent,awhite-hotthrillzingingthroughmyspine.Theelectriccurrentsofanimpendingorgasmchasedoneanother.Iquaked,losingcontrol,mumblingincoherentthingsintohispillows.
Theminutetheclimaxhitme,hewithdrewhistongueandfingers,rippedthebondageonmyanklesoff,andslammedintomeinonego.Ididn’tknowifthiswasatrick,butitsuremademypeakfeeltwiceasviolentasitrippledthroughme.Hisentirebodypressedagainstmyback,hisheavyarousalslidinginandoutofmefrombehind.
Igroaned,adjustingtohisweightonme.
Cillianwentverystillwhilehewasinsideme.
“Tellmetostop.”
“Goharder.”Ipushedmyselfagainsthim.
Hedid.
Wewereendlesstogether.Onesearingentitywithoutabeginningoranend.
Hebrushedacurtainofhairplasteredtothesideofmyneck,pressinghislipstoitasherodemehardanddeep.
“Youpleaseme,Persephone.”
Isankmyteethinhisskin,notevensurewhatIwasbiting.Heletme.
Allowedmetotouchhim,tomarkhim,toclaimhim.
Progress.
Hecametohisrelease,andIfoundmineagain,inhiswords.
Oncehewasdone,heuntiedmywrists,kissedthetopofmyhead,andlefttheroom.Hisunspokenwordswereclearandcuttingasblades—weweredone.
Islippedbacktomyroom,feelingmiserableandelatedandconfusedandfrustratedanddefeatedandvictorious.
Hiswordsechoedinsidemelikeflashesoflightthroughthedark.
Youpleaseme,Persephone.
Hissoulbledallovermetonight.
NowIwasexpectedtofallasleepsmearedinhispain.
CillianandIfellintoaroutineafterthatnight.
Heshowedupforourdailydinnersobediently,butmadeitapointtowalkthroughthedoorthreeorfourminutesafterseven,evenifitmeantwaitinginhisAstonMartin,scowlingatthefrontdoorlikeitwasaningrownhairhecouldn’tgetridof.
Hedefiedmelikeanunrulychild,waitingtoseehowhismotherwouldrespondtohispushingthelimits.Thiswasamanwithoutlimits.Atycoonwhohadspenthislifedemandingandreceivingeverythinghe’deverdesired,inquickfashion.Hewasraisedinthearmsofnannies,privateboardingschools,andaupairswhohadtaughthimLatin,tablemanners,andhowtotieatiefourdifferentways.
Noonehadtaughthimlove.
Patience.
Compassion.
Howtolive,laugh,andenjoythesensationofraindropsonhisskin.
Noonehadshownhimhumanity
Maybethatwasoneofthereasonshewassofondofbondage.Itallowedhimtoremainincontrol,eveninasituationwherelettinggowasrequired.
DinnersattheFitzpatrickhouseholdwere,toputitmildly,apaininthebutt.
I’dtriedtospicethemup,nopunintended.I’dinvitedPetar,Emmabelle,Hunter,Sailor,andAislingtojoinusafewtimeseachweek,sincethecookhadmadeenoughfoodtofeedtheentireneighborhood.Onetime,Ieventookituponmyselftoinvitehisparents.
Cillianacceptedhisnewrealitywithquietresignation.HewasclearlyunhappywiththesocializationIinjectedintohislife,buthesufferedthroughit,knowingournightstogetherwereworthit.
Notonlydidwehavedailydinnerstogether,butImadesuretofillthemwithstoriesaboutmyday.FunnyanecdotesaboutthekidsItaught,andthingstheysaidanddidintheclassroom.Mostofthetime,heansweredwithmonosyllabicgroans.HevolunteerednexttonothingabouthisdaysatworkandrefusedtoaddresstheGreenLivinglawsuit.
IknewhewantedtoaskmeifIeverheardbackfromAndrewArrowsmithaboutthatjob.
Theanswer,bytheway,wasabig,fat,disappointingno.
ButIdidn’tvolunteeranyinformation.Waitedforhimtoascendfromhisunderworldkingdomandplaywithhislittlemortalwife.Takeinterest.Makeconversation.
SomethingcompelledmetostillsendhimpicturesoflonecloudswheneverIfoundtheminthesky,eventhoughhe’dfailedtorespond.Maybetoremindhimmiraclesdidexist,andsodidmagic.
Wemadeloveeverynight.
Sometimes,itwasdepravedandrough,andsometimes,itwasslowandtaunting.Itwasalwaysawildexploration.AsymphonyofnewnotionsandtastesandcolorsI’dneverexperiencedbefore.
ThreeweeksafterImovedin,Igotmyperiod.
IcriedwhenIsawthefirstspotofbloodonmypanties.Iwipedmytears,tookashower,threwtheunderwearinthelaundrybasket,anddranktwoglassesofwatertocalmmyselfdown.ItwasmysecondperiodsinceI’dstartedsleepingwithmyhusband.
Iwasn’tsurewhathurtmore—mywantingababysomuchandnotgettingmywish,orlettingCilliandown,whichIwasundoubtedlygoingtodo.
“AuntFlowisintown,”Iannouncedduringdinnertime.Itwasoneoftherareoccasionswhereitwasjustthetwoofus.
“BetterthanAuntTilda,Isuppose.”Killdidn’tlookupfromhisplate.
“Isthissupposedtobefunny?”Iaskedinathinvoice.Hepattedthecornersofhislipswithanapkin,stillstaringathisplate.
“Thanksforlettingmeknow.I’llplanmyeveningaccordingly.”
“Havefun,”Igrittedout,thistimenotbotheringtohidemydisappointment.
“Iintendto.”
Ididn’texpectavisitfromhimthatnight.
Tohiscredit,hemanagedtoholdhimselfoffuntilhalfpasteleven.I’dlistenedtohimthroughtheadjoiningwallofourrooms,goingabouthisevening.Typingonhislaptop.Flippingsportschannels.Takingbusinesscalls.
Finally,therewassilence.Aknockonmydoorsoundedafewsecondslater.Ilovedthathealwaysaskedtocomein,neverassuming,neverdemanding.
Iopenedthedoor.
Westaredateachotherforabeat.
“Didyoucallme?”Hefrowned.
Isuppressedasmile.“No.”
“IthoughtIheardyourvoice.”
Mychestfilledwithsomethingwarm.
AllIdidwasshakemyhead.Thistime,hehadtoworkforit.
“Icamefor…”Hebrokeoff,runninghisfingersthroughhissilkybrownhair,furiouswithhimself.“Idon’tknowwhatthehellIcamefor.”
“Yes,youdo,”Isaidsoftly.
Iwantedtohearitfromhim.Thatheenjoyedit.Us.Thathedidn’tonlydoitbecauseweweresupposedto,butbecauseitmadehimhappy.
Godknewitmademehappy.
Toohappy,maybe.
Heleaneddowntokissme.Lettinghimoffthehookwastempting,butforthesakeofhissyntheticgrassheart,Iputahandonhischest,pushinghimaway.
“Sayit.”
Hisdownturnedlipsflattened,andhiseyeshardened.Hesnappedhisknuckles,somethingI’dnoticedhetriednottodowhentherewereotherpeopleintheroom.Hewashangingontohiscontrol.Barely.
“Icameheretomakeoutwithyoumiddleschoolstyle.Happy?”
“Very.”IpulledhimbythewhiteV-neckofhisshirtintomyroom,closingthedoorbehindus.
Onthatnight,andthefournightsafterit,allwedidwaskissandfondleandexplore.Hesuckedmynipplesuntiltheyweretoorawandsensitiveformetowearabrathenextday,andIgavehimhandjobswhilewebothstaredatmysmallhandwrappedaroundhiscockinawe.
Whenmywriststartedhurting,Igraduatedfromhandjobstoblowjobs.Atfirst,Cillianwasskeptical.
“IlikeyourhandsandmouthwhereIcanseethem,”hedrawled.
“I’mnotarabidanimalfromthewilderness.”Ilaughed.
Hegavemeajury’s-still-out-on-thatsortoflook,whichmademelaughevenharder.Ibitdownonmyteeth.
“Sree?”Iasked,myvoicewasmuffled.“Nrroteeth.”
Grinningdownatme,hegotupfromthebed,standingupandloweringmyheadwithhishanduntilIwasonmykneesinfrontofhim.
“Fine.Butwe’lldoitmyway.I’vegotrequirements.”
“Shocker!”Igasped.Webothlaughed.ThenIsaid,“I’mlistening.”
“Lickitfirst.Thoroughly.”
Hereleasedhiscock,velvety,throbbing,andimpossiblyhard.Icaptureditinmyfist,myfingersbarelycreatingafullcircle,andbeganlickingitshafttotip.Hegroaned,fistingmyhairandtuggingonitroughly.
“Faster.”
Iobliged.
“Moretongue.Moresaliva.More.”
Heorderedwiththatsharp,princelytwanghehadthatmadehimsoundliketherulerofallthings.IdidasIwastold,gettingsowet,Iselfishlywishedhe’dchoosenottocome,tossmeintobedandenterme,AuntFlowbedamned.
“Well,”hesaidcalmly,evenasIwasdoingmybesttodrivehimnutswithmytongueandmouth.“Iwasgoingtokeepthelinebetweenrespectfulwifeandmyflingsfirmlydrawn,butIsuppose…”
Igroaned,continuingtosuckandbobbingmyheadbackandfortheagerly.
Iwanttobeyoureverything.Yoursexynymphandvirginalbride.
“Isupposethelinehasalreadybeencrossed.Chokeonmycock,youbeautifulslut,”hefinishedhismusingsbygrabbingmyhairharderandbegantofuckmymouthruthlessly.Eachtime,histiphitthebackofmythroat.Andeachtime,Ialmostcamewhenithappened.Myeyesgotteary,butonlybecausemygagreflexwasonhighalert.
“Tapmythightwiceifyouwantmetostop.”Hisvoicehoveredabovemyhead.Ididn’twanthimtostop.Isuckedharder,moregreedily,takinghimallin,moaninglikeIneverhadbefore.Icouldtellhewasgettingclosetohisrelease.Histhighsbegantoquiver,andthatmalescentofsexhungthickintheair.
Thoughheseemedlikethetypetofinishinthemouth,myhusbandpulledoutofme,cameintohisfist,thentenderly—almostlongingly—usedhiscum-coveredfingerstowipemyhairfrommyface,tiltingmychinup.
“Thatwasgood,”hesaid.“YougetanA+,FlowerGirl.”
“Thenwhydidn’tyoucomeinmymouth?”Itriedveryhardnottowhineand,inmyopinion,almostsucceeded.
“Instinct,Isuppose.”Hewasalreadygettingdressed.“Escortshavebeenknowntostealbillionaires’sperm.MygroundrulesareIalwaysbringmyowncondomsandneverleavemycumunattended.”Heloweredhimselftohisknees,sowewerealmosteyetoeye.“Now,howaboutIreturnthefavorandeatthatsweetpussy?”
Myeyeswidened.“Onmyperiod?Never.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Ido.”
“Fine.Nipplesitis.”
Hedidn’tstopuntilhemademecome.
ItwasthefirsttimeIcamelikethis.
Oneofmanyfirstsmyhusbandintroducedmeto.
Whilemyhomelifewasstillfarfromblissful,itwasresemblingnormalcymoreandmoreeveryday.Myhusbandwasmine,atleastforthetimebeing.
Iknewhewasn’tseeingotherwomen.
Thathewasfaithfulanddesiredme.
EvenAsh,Belle,andSailorbackeddownfrombadmouthingKill.Maybeitwasbecauseofthepokergamethey’dlosttohim,ormaybetheyhadnoticedI’dbeenhappiersincemovingintomyhusband’shouse,buttheyseemedacceptingofmynewrelationship.
Somenights,IwouldlookoutthewindowatalonecloudandtalktoAuntieTilda.I’dtellheraboutmylife.Myjob,myplans,mynewmarriage.
ShealwaysstuckarounduntilIgotsleepy.
NeversailedawaybeforeIsaidmygoodbyes.
Andso,I’dforgottenaveryimportantlessonAuntieTildahadtaughtmewhenIwasyounger.
IbelievedIcouldchangemyhusband.
Iwaswrong.
IttookafullmonthforJoelleArrowsmithtopickupthephoneandgivemeacall.
SheexplainedherhusbandgavehermyphonenumberandaskedifIcouldhelpthetwinsforafewhoursunderhersupervision.Tracelettersandnumberswiththem.
“Theyfellabitbehindonthematerial.Asyouknow,therearecertainmilestonestheyneedtohitbythetimetheygotofirstgrade,”shehuffedoverthephone.
Iknewthiswell.Asapre-Kteacher,myjobwastoteachchildrenagefourandfivetousetrainingscissors,knowtheirlettersandnumbers,andsharpentheirintellectualandphysicalskillssothey’darriveatpublicschoolequipped
WeagreedI’dcometotheirhousethefollowingSaturday.ItworkedwellbecauseSaturdaysweremydaytovisitGretaVeitch,somethingIdidreligiouslydespitemyhusband’sdisdain.IcouldeasilyslipoutearlyandusetheextrahourstospendtimewithTinderandTree.
Itwasn’tlikeCillianwasatthehouseduringtheweekends.
Hewenttohisranchtospendtimewithhishorsesandneverinvitedme.Myhusbandalwaysmadehiswaybackfromtheranchtoourhouseintimetoconsummateourmarriage,butwokeupextraearlythenextdaytoleavebeforeIwokeup.Godforbidwe’dhavebreakfasttogether.
IarrivedattheArrowsmiths’housefirstthingSaturdaymorning.Joelleopenedthedoor,herhairstickingoutineverydirectionandbloodshoteyes,andwavedmein.
“God,youlookfreshasadaisy.”Shesoundeddisappointed.
Ilaughed.“Well,Itrytogeteighthoursofsleepeverynight.”
“Thetwinswakeupseveraltimesanighttogotothebathroomandaskforwater.”
“Youneedtosleeptrainthem,”Isaid.“Icanhelpyouwiththat.”
Sheledmethroughanarrow,modernhallwaypaintedinscarletred.TheArrowsmithslivedinanup-and-coming,trendySouthieneighborhood.Theirhouseresembledanactualhomefromtheoutside—deliberatelyhumble—butinside,itstillreekedofwealth.Withgraniteflooring,crownmoldings,andalltheothereye-poppingthingstheFitzpatricksweresofondof.
TinderandTreejumpedonmeinunison,tacklingmetothefloor,excitedtohaveaplaymate.
“Children,pleasecalmdown.Iapologize.”Joellewoveahanddisapprovinglyatthem.“Thenannyisamiddle-agedwomanfromFrance.See,wereallywantedthemtobebilingual.Butshedidn’tknowwhatImeant.Myeyestraveledtoherdesignershirt,whichwasnotonlystained,butinsideout.
“Very.”
“ThenIsuggestyoudroptheFrenchlessonsandhiresomeoneyoungandfuntododailyactivitieswiththem.Takethemtoswimminglessonsordocartwheelsatthepark.Teachthemhowtorideabikeandascooter.Dothingsthatwouldbuildtheirconfidence.”
Thesekidslookedthirstyforattention,conversation,andexploration.Asecondlanguagewasthelastthingtheyneeded.IgotupfromthefloorandheadedtothekitchenwiththetwinsandJoellefollowingmeasthoughtheyweretheguests.
“Maybeyoucandoallthosethingswiththem,”Joellemused,quicklylosingherreservations.Ittookherafullmonthtocometotermswiththefactsheneededmyhelp.Afterall,Iwasherhusband’senemy’swife.Nowthatshetooktheleap,shefiguredshe’dsqueezethehelloutofthearrangement.
“Icandothreetimesaweek.Dotheygotoschool?”Iasked.
“Yes,butonlyuntilnoon.Andrewworksnonstop,andIamonthepanelofthreedifferentcharitiesandonthecountyboardofsupervisors.Nottomention,Andrewjustsignedanotherbookdeal.There’llbeagrandtour…”
Ieyedherindisbelief.Shegaveherhairatoss.
“Don’tlookatmelikethat.Andrewwantstorunformayor.”
“Isee.”
Ididn’tseeanything,otherthanhowthiscouplehadtheirprioritiesallwrong.
“What’syourrate,anyway?”sheaskedprimly.
“Twenty-fiveperhour,”Ianswered.Shetiltedherhead,takenaback.
“Really?Solittle?”
Ismiled.“It’snotsolittleforme.”
NotthatIdiditforthemoney.Infact,I’dalreadydecidedIwoulddonateeverypennygiventomebytheArrowsmiths.ItfeltmorallywrongtospendCillian’senemy’smoney.
“Itakeityouandyourhusbandhaveseparateaccounts.”
Joellescannedmeinneweyes,herfacelightingup.
“Wedo.”
Itwastechnicallytrue.KillandIdidhaveseparateaccounts.Butthatdidn’tmeanIdidn’thaveaccesstohismoney.MoneyI’drefusedtospend.IstillonlyusedwhateverIwaspaideveryFridaybyLittleGenius,lettingtheastronomicalamountofdollarsKilltransferredpileupinmycheckingaccount,untouched.
“Allright.Threetimesaweek.IncludingfullSaturdays.Ihavetocatchuponadminwork.”Joellestretchedherarminmydirection.Ishookit.
“HalfaSaturday.Ivisitmyformergrandmother-in-lawonSaturdays.”
“Oh,that’sright.”Shegaveherselfaway.SoshewastheonewhotoldKill.“Yougotyourselfadeal.”
Turningaroundtothetwins,Iexclaimed,“Guesswhat?We’regoingtomakeletter-shapedcookiestoday!Ibroughtalltheingredients.Youready?”
“Yes!”Treepumpedtheairwithhisfist.
Tindernodded,eyeingmeshyly.Hewasobviouslymorereservedthanhisbrother.Iherdedtheboystothebathroomtowashourhands,rubbingbetweentheirfingersaswemadefunnyhygienesongsthatincludedalotoffartjokes.Meanwhile,Joellesetupherlaptopinthekitchensoshecouldseeus.Iappreciatedthat,ifnothingelse,shewasconcernedenoughtokeepaneyeonus.
Isetbowlswithflourandsugaronthekitchencounteranddraggedtwochairsfortheboystostandon.Wecrackedeggs,addedoilandwater,thenbattered,sang,andwhistledasweworked.
Everynowandagain,I’dcatchJoellewatchinguswithlongingmixedwithenvyandfascination.
Andrewwasn’tathome.Ihadthefeelingherarelywas,whichmadespyingonhimalittleharder.
Wepouredthebatterintoletter-shapedcutters.Whilewewaitedfortheoventoheat,Iemptiedamixedbagofcolorfulsprinklesintoabowlandaskedtheboystoseparatethecolors.Itwasagreatexerciseinpatience,self-soothing,andteamwork.
“Don’tforgettosavemeallthereds,”Ising-songed.“Redismyfavoritecolor.”
Thecolorofpomegranate.
“Iloveblue.”Treeexplodedintogiggles.“LikeSullyfromMonsters,Inc.”
“AndIlovepink,”Tindersaid.“Likeflamingos.”
“Pinkisforgirls.”Treeblewaraspberry.“TinderlikesElsa,too.”Theboystubbedapudgyfingerathisbrother’schest,leavingacloudofflouronhisshirt.
“SodoI.”Ihigh-fivedTinder.“Isn’tshecool?Shehasawesomesuperpowers.”
“CatboyfromPJMasksiscooler,”Treesaiddefensively,pitchingtheideatome.“Heisasfastaslightningandcanhearanything.Evenants!”
“B-Butcanhefreezesomeone?”Tindergrinned,gainingconfidencewithmebyhisside.
ThedifferencesbetweenTreeandTinderwerestaggering.
Treewastalkative,animated,andnaturallycurious.Tinderstuttered,andhislefteyetwitchedfrequently.Hisjerkymovementsandlow-hangingheadtoldmehewasextremelyinsecure.Healsochewedonthecollarofhisshirtuntilapoolofsalivaformedaroundit.
“Moooooom.”Treenarrowedhiseyesathisbrother.“Tinderruinedhisshirt.”
“JesusChrist,Tin,again?You’rereallysomething,aren’tyou.”Joelledartedfromthetable,advancingtowardus.
ShegrabbedTinderbytheshoulder.Iputmyhandonhers,stoppingher.
“Pleasedon’t,”Isaid.“It’stotallynatural.Ihaveafewkidsinclasswhodoit,too.”
“Hegoesthroughdozensofshirtsaweek!”sheburst,herlowerliptrembling.
“Lethim,”Iwhisperedundermybreath.“Ifit’shiswayofcopingwithstress,makingafusswouldonlyescalatetheissue.”
Weheldeachother’sgazesforasecond.Luckily,theovendinged,signalingithadreachedourdesiredtemperature.
“Excuseme.”Igrabbedthetrays.
Isentthechildrentowashtheirhandsagain,askingthemtosingthesongswe’dmadeuptogetherfromthetopoftheirlungswhileItidiedupthekitchen.ThatgaveJoelleandmeafewminutesalone.
“Joelle,”Istartedcautiously.Ididn’tknowhowmuchtimeIwasgoingtohavewiththisfamily,butIknewtheyneededme.“Tinderis—”
“Iknow,”shecutmeoff,fidgetingwithhernecklace.“Histherapistsaiditistooearlyforanofficialdiagnosis.Wearemonitoringhimclosely,butIfeelcompletelyinthedarkastowhathisconditionentails.”
“Criticizinghimwon’thelp.”Iputmyhandonherarm.“Everychildisdifferentinpersonality,progress,andneeds.Frenchistheverylastthingthesekidsneed.Tinder,especially,needsalotoflove,andaffection,andattention.Heneedstoknowyoulovehimunconditionally.Ifyou’reconfused,thinkaboutwhatheisgoingthrough.Heisstartingtorealizeheisdifferent.”
Hershoulderssaggedwithadeepsigh.Bytheexhaustedlookonherface,Icouldtellshe’dbeenwantingtotalkaboutthiswithsomeoneforalongtime.
“I’mataloss.Myfamilyproducedhappy-go-luckykids.Wedon’thaveahistoryofanythingoutsidethenorm.Treeremindsmesomuchofmybrothersandmewhenwewerelittle.Independentandathletic.WhileTinderis—”
“Othergreatthings.Andnotevenapinchlesstreasuredthanhisbrother,”Icompletedforhercurtly.“Differentkidsrequiredifferentsetsofrulesandtechniques.Youwereblessedwithtwohealthychildren.That’smorethansomanywomendaretodreamof.”
Me,forexample.
Ihadn’ttoldKillbutgettingmyperioddespitehavingunprotectedsexwithhimforacoupleofmonthsunraveledmefromtheinside.
Itshouldn’thave.Twomonthsmeantnothinginthegrandschemeofthings.
Ireadsomewherethatittakesbetweeneighttoelevenmonthsfortheaveragecoupletogetpregnantiftheyactivelytry.Butothercouplesweren’tonadeadline.IknewifIfailedtogivehimheirs,Cillianwouldgetthemelsewhere.
Thethoughtmademewanttothrowup.
“You’reright.”Joellestraightenedherspine.“You’resoright.Ineedtostopthisself-pity.Tinder’sagreatkid,youknow?Alittlebehindonthelettersandnumbers,buthecanpaintlikenobody’sbusiness.Andheissoimaginative!”
Thelightinhereyeswasback,andthatwaswhenIrealizedI’dneverseenitoninthefirstplace.
“Tellyouwhat.I’mabouttoreadthemafewstorieswhilethecookiesbake.Whydon’tyoustickaround?Spendsometimewithus?”
“Youthinkit’sagoodidea?”Sheseemeduncertain.“Theydon’tseemtolikemeallthatmuch.”
“You’retheirmother.”Isnorted.“They’reboundtoadoreyouunconditionally.”
“Icomefromafamilywhereparentingisdonebyothers.I’mnotverygoodwithkids,”Joelleadmittedhoarsely.
“You’rebetterthanyouthinkyouare,”Iassuredher.
“Howdoyouknow?”
“Becauseyoumadethem.”
Wespenttherestoftheafternoontogether.BythetimeIgotoutoftheArrowsmiths’house,IknewIwasindeeptrouble.
AsmuchasIhatedAndrewArrowsmithforwhathedid—andwasstilldoing—tomyhusband,Icouldn’thelpbutlikehisfamily.
Ultimately,Iwasgoingtohurtthem.
Fornow,Itriedtohealthem.ThreemonthshadpassedsincePersephonemovedin.
Threemonthsofirritatingdailydinners,textmessagesfullofpointlesscloudpictures,andanunholyamountofsex.
Physically,I’dneverbeenthissatisfiedinmylife.Mentally,mydispositionandideologiesshriveledintothemselvesandshutthewindowseverytimeIsteppedintomyhouse.
IfFlowerGirlthoughtweweremakingprogressonourwaytomaritalbliss,shehadanotherthingcoming.
Iwasn’taninchmoreinlovewithherthanIwasthreemonthsagoanddidn’tcareforheranouncemorethanIhadthedaysheburstintomyoffice,askingmetobeherknightinshinyloafers.
Yet.
Yet.
Mynewlifestylehadaprice,andIwasnothappytopayit.
IcrackedmyknucklesbehindcloseddoorssofrequentlyIwassurprisedmyfingerswerestillattachedtomyhands,andIspentdoublethetimeatthegymtakingmyenergyoutonapunchingbagtoblowoffsteam.
Itdidn’thelpmattersthatSailorwassportinganimpressivebelly.
She’dstuckitouteveryweekendwhenwe’dallgatheredatmyparents’house,pattingittomakesurenooneforgotshewaswithchild.Myparents’initialeuphoriawithmynuptialshaddieddown,andtheywerebacktocooingandfawningoverSailor’sstomach.
Ineededanheirandfast.MysolemotivationwastoleadtheFitzpatrickclanandsiresomeonewhowoulddothesame.Ididn’twanttoseeHunter’sspawnhijackingmyhard-earnedcompanyandwiththeirDNA,pissingitawayonflashycars,drugs,booze,andaspaceshipfullofsororitysisters.
Havingsaidthat,eachmonthmywifeinformedmethatshehadgottenherperiod,Ifoundmyselfcontent.
Ababydidnotfitintomyworld.
Notyet,anyway.
IneededtogetridoftheAndrewArrowsmithproblem,makesureRoyalPipelineswaslawsuit-free,andensuretheexploratorydrillingsintheArcticwerefruitful.
Besides,knockingFlowerGirlupmeantInolongerhadanexcusetokeepheraround,andhavingasteadylayturnedouttobeconvenient.Somuchso,thatIwastoyingwiththeideaoftakingalocalsidepieceafterthiswasalldoneanddealtwith.
Nottoolocal,butlocalenoughtobeonthesamecontinentasme.SomeoneIcouldstashcloseenoughforcomfortandtoofarawayfordinnerdates.
TherewereothermeritstogettingridofPersephone,ofcourse.
Namely,thefactthatsometimes(althoughnotveryoften,andinacompletelymanageableway)shemademefeellikeIwasfallingthroughanendlessabyssfullofglassceilings.
NexttimeIchoseamistress,I’ddomyduediligence.GetSamonthecase.Findsomeonelessattractivethanmywife,andnothalfasstubborn.Chanceswere,I’dneverhavetodealwiththediscomfortofwantingsomeonephysicallysomuchagain,simplybecausePersephonehadalwaysstirredinmewhatnootherwomanhad.
Now,IplayedthememoryoflastnightinmyheadwhileIentertainedmyfriendsduringourweeklypokernight.
Ofmywifeinherlacywhitenightgown.Howwemethalfwayinthehallwayasweoftendid.Iwascomingtoseeher,andshewascomingtoseeme,neitherofusinthemoodforthattug-of-war,who-caves-firstgame.
Weexplodedonthecarpet,fabricripping,teethnipping,moansdriftingdownstairstothestaffquarters.
“Myfavoritewish,”shehadraspedintomymouthwhenIcamedeepinsideher“Mymiracle.”
“IsthatasmileonCillian’sface?”Hunterscratchedhishead,dumbfounded.
Ithadonlybeenfortyminutessincethey’darrived,andalreadyIwantedtokickthemoutwithmyshoesstilldeepintheirasscracks.FlowerGirlwasupstairs,havingaZoomconferencecallwithherfriends,andmymindwasdeepinthegutterastowhatIhadplannedforhertonight.
“Asmile?Surelynot.”Devonsquintedathiscards,takingasipofhisbrandy.“Perhapsheishavingastroke.”
“Maybesomethinggotstuckinhisteeth.”Huntertappedhiscardsagainstthetable.“Like,youknow,feelingsorsomething.”
“Zipit,”Iwarned.
“No.They’reright.You’rebeaming.”Samfrownedatmeinabhorrence.“It’sdisgusting.Peoplearetryingtoeathere.”Hedroppedhissandwichontohisplate.
“Leavehimalone.Ithinkit’scute.”Huntertookapullofhisbeer.“Killcaughtacaseofthefeels,andthere’snovaccineforwhathe’sexperiencing.”
“Areyoureallyonetotalkaboutbeingpussy-whipped?”Ipluckedacardfromthestackinthemiddleofthetable.“YourballshavebeenMIAsinceyourwifecameintothepicture,andnosearchunitintheworldcanfindthem.”
Everyheadintheroomsnappedinmydirection.
“What?”Ibaredmyteeth.
“Yousaidpussy-whipped.”Devon’sforeheadcreased.“Younevercurse.”
“Pussyisnotacurseword.”
“Ihaveagayjokeonthetipofmytongue.”Huntersquirmedasthoughhewastryinghardnottopee.
“Swallowit,”Isnapped.
“That’swhathesaid.”Huntercouldn’thelphimself.Ishothimalook.Hezippedhislipswithhisfingers,makingashowofthrowingthekeyacrosstheroom.
“Sorry.Hadtogetitoutofmysystem.I’mdonenow.”
Jokesaside,IknewI’dhaveprobablynotusedthewordsixmonthsago.Thenecessitytoutterprofanitydidnotappealtome,buthowelsecouldIdirectmywifetoparkherpussyonmyface?Toridemycock?Benddownandletmeropeherass?
Callingwhatshehadbetweenherlegsavaginawouldmakemeone.Iwasn’therOB-GYN.Ihadnobusinesscallingpussyanythingotherthanpussy.
“Anyway,pointis,yousayyou’reimmunetofeelings,andIcallbullshitonit.”Hunterlaughed.
“I’mnotimmunetofeelings,”Icountered.“Ihavetwo:pleasureandpain.”
“Yourwife’spussygivesyoupleasure,”Devon,whohadassumedtheroleofCaptainObviousforthenight,supplied.“Butwhenwasthelasttimeyoufeltpain?”
“Verysoon,whenPersyfinallyrealizesshemarriedarobotandkickshimtothecurb.”Hunterchuckled,tossinghiscardsatthecenterofthetable.“Ifold.”
“Kill,”Samlitupacigarette,“Ineedawordinprivate.”
“Perfecttiming.Game’sover.”Ithrewmycards.
“We’veonlyjuststarted.”Devonfrowned.“Ihaveagoodhandgoing.”
“Mine’sabouttosnapyourneckifyoudon’tgetoutofhere.”Ismiledpolitely.HunterandDevonleft.NowallIneededwastogetridofSam,andIcouldvisitmywife’sbed.
“What’sup?”Ileanedbackinmychair.
“It’saboutAndrewArrowsmith.”
I’dlawyeredupsinceI’dheardaboutthelawsuit,didmyduediligenceregardingGreenLiving,andmadesuretoshowmyfaceatcharityeventswithmywifeonmyarmandsignfatcheckstononprofitorganizations.
I’dalsopaidsomelocalmediaoutletshandsomelytorunlessthanflatteringitemsaboutAndrew,luredpotentialdonorsfrominvestingtheirmoneyinGreenLiving,andmadesureIchokedAndrew’sworkplacefinanciallythebestIcould
Idideverythingbythebookaheadofthecourtdate,whichwasscheduledforSeptembertwenty-third,stillacoupleofmonthsaway,butIknewArrowsmithhadastrongcaseandthepublic’ssympathy.
Takingadumpononeoftheworld’smostdelicatenaturalresourceswasapparentlyseverelyfrownedupon.
“Ididsomedigging.Spoketooneofhislawyers.”SamhandedmehisiPadfromacrossthetable.“Oneoftheanglesthey’regoingtouseincourtisdefamation.Specifically,thepoorstateofyourmarriage.They’regoingtoimplyyourcharacterisflawedthroughyourestrangedrelationshipwithPersephone.Basically,they’regoingtoheavilysuggestyou’reanabusivehusband.Yourwifeisemployedbythemandreceivesasalaryfromthem.Shevisitstheirhousethreetofourtimesaweek,whichI’msureyouareawareof.”
I’mnot,goddammit.
Whatdidyoudo,Persephone?
“NotonlyisPersyspendingmostofhertimewiththeArrowsmiths,butyoudon’thaveafamilylifetospeakof.Itlooksbad.Theapartmentyou’restillrentingforher,yourseparatebankaccounts…”
Iheldupahandtostophim.“Rewind.Separateaccounts?”
PersephonesignedanNDAandwasdefinitelyinnopositiontotellanyoneaboutthat.
Sampuffedonhiscigarette,eyeingmewryly.
“Don’ttellmeyouweredumbenoughtoaddhertoyourbankaccounts,Kill.”
“No,”Igrittedout.“ButIdepositasixty-thousand-dollarmonthlyallowanceintohercheckingaccount.Seeingasshelivesundermyroof,eatsmyfood,andgenerallylivesatmyexpense,Ifiguredthiswouldbeasufficientamountforhernottolookforanysidegigs.”
“Well,that’swhatshetoldtheArrowsmiths.Youdidknowsheworksforthem,correct?”
Idid,andIdidn’t.
Persephonetoldmemonthsagothatshewasplanningondoingsobutneverfollowedup.Iassumed—fine,hoped—herdeclarationtotutorTinderArrowsmithwasjustanotherwaytogetonmynerves.Tryingtomilkahumanemotionoutofmewasherfavoritehobby.
Ididn’tthinkshewouldactuallyfollowthrough.
ThatTinderkidwasapatheticexcusefora…
“Cillian?”Samslantedhishead.Iclearedmythroat,tuckingmyhandsunderthetableandcrackingmyknuckles.
“Iknew,”Ilied.
“Whydidn’tyoustopit?”
“BecauseIdon’tcaremuchwhatshedoesinherfreetimeaslongasshedoesn’tnagmetospendtimewithher.”
“Well,startcaringifyouwanttowinthecaseagainstArrowsmith.Tellyourwifetodroptheirasses,pronto.Ifthere’sonethingyoudon’tneedrightnow,it’sforPersephonetogiveArrowsmithammo.”
“Howmuchdoesherwordreallyweigh?”Isnarled.“Sheisjustastupidkid.”
“Astupidkidyou’remarriedto,”Samremindedme.“Dismantleher.”
“Iwill.”
“Whydon’twetailGoldilocks?”Samflickedhiscigarettestraightintotheashtray,scanningmyfaceforareaction.“Seewhatshe’supto.”
BecauseIcontractuallypromisedherIwouldneverhaveherfollowed,andeventhoughsheenjoystakinglongshitsalloverthecontractshesignedandbreakittimeandtimeagain,I’veafeelingIwon’tbeabletogetawaywithdoingthesame.
“WhywouldIwastemypreciousresourcesonmywife?”Iaskeddryly.
“Don’tyouwanttoknowifshestillvisitsMrs.Veitch?”
“Shedoes.”
“Andyoudon’tcare?”
“ForallIcare,Persephonecangobacktoherloserexaftershe’sdonehavingmychildren.”Istood,collectingmyphoneandshovingitintomybackpocket.
“Remindheryouwilldropherassifshebreaksyouragreement,”hewarned,hisarmshookedbehindtheback,histhighsspread.
“Anythingelse?”Icheckedthetimeonmywatch.
“Yes.”Hestood,pointingatme.“Getyourshittogether.I’veneverseenyouloseapokergameunintentionally.Theseassholesrippedyouanewholetoday,andithasn’tevenbeenanhour.I’veneverseenyouathomebeforenineo’clockintheeveningbefore,either.Guesswhat?Lastweek,Idroppedbyyourofficeathalfpastsixandwastoldyou’dgonehomeearly.”
Iwouldn’tcallsixthirtyearly,exactly,butPersephonesentmeatextwithapictureofherwearingnothingbutanightgownthepeachycolorofherclit,andmydickallbutsignedRoyalPipelinesovertoArrowsmithinabidtogohomeearly.
ItinfuriatedmethatSamhadapoint,evenifIwassureitwasnothingbutaphasetogetmywifeoutofmysystem.
“IsaidI’lltalktoher.Knowwherethedooris?”
Heshotmeaconfusedlook.“Ofcourse.”
“Useit.”
Withthat,Iturnedaroundandstompeduptothesecondfloor.
ItwastimetoteachPersephonethatintheunderworld,everythingoutsidethenarrowscopeofwhatIfoundacceptablewasboundtoperish.
Ifuckedherfirst.
Iknewtheconversationwasgoingtoturnthingssourbetweenusanddidn’twantanythingtohindermyattemptstoimpregnatemywife.
Sinceshewassenselessenoughnottousefertilitytests,Ihadtodoiteveryday.
Itiedmywifetothebedrails,ateherout,thenravishedherseveraltimesuntilshewassoreandtendereverywhere.
I’dwaiteduntilwewerebothspentandlyingonherbedbeforeIopenedthecigarbox,whichIhadmovedtoherroom,seeingasI’dspentmostofmytimethere,andlitoneup.
“You’regoingtostoptutoringtheArrowsmithkidsstartingtomorrowmorning,”Iannounced.
Persephonewasstillwrappedinherblankets,hergoldenhairfannedoverbothofus,herskindewylikeaspringmorning.
Sherolledtowardme,herbigblueeyessettlingonmyface.
“Excuseme?”
“Iknowyou’vebeentutoringthem.Itstopsrightnow.”
“Haveyoubeenfollowingme?”Hervoiceturnedfromsweettocoldinseconds.
Iflungtheblanketoffmeandsatup,jammingmylegsintomybriefs.
“Sweetheart,let’snotpretendIcareenoughtohaveyoufollowed.SamfollowsAndrew,andhesawyougoinginandoutofhishouse.”
“Sam’sanasshole.”Shejumpedoffthebedasthoughshe’dbeenburned.
IpulledaV-neckshirtovermyhead,ignoringherhysterics.
“WhatSamisandisn’tisnotmyconcern.I’mnotmarriedtohim.You,however,arecurrentlybreakingacontractyousigned.Thenon-competeclause.Youwentandranyourmouthtomyenemylikethelittleidiotthatyouare,tellinghimwehaveseparateaccounts.NowAndrewisgoingtouseyouremploymentincourttoshowthatIamanunloving,neglectfulhusbandinordertoestablishmybadcharacter.”
“Youareanunlovinghusband.”Shethrewherhandsintheair,laughingbitterly.
“Lovewasn’tinthecontract.”
“Screwyourcontract!”shescreamed,losingherusual,saintlypatience.
“Why?Screwingyouissomuchmoreenjoyable.”Iwasalreadymakingmywaytomyroom.Iwaspleasedwithmyselffornotallowingustosleepinthesamebedsincewe’dgottenmarried.Itgavemesomesemblanceofcontrol.
Istoppedbythedoor.
“Quittomorrowmorning.Iwon’tasktwice.Thisisnon-negotiable.”
“Orelse?”Shejuttedherchinout.“WhatareyougoingtodoifIdecidetocontinuetutoringthesekids—Tinderespecially,aboywhoneedsme,whoreliesonme,whoisattachedtome?”
Iturnedaround.Staredherdownwiththesame,colddisdainI’dusedwitheveryoneelseinmylife.
Shewasjustawarmhole.
Adistraction.
Ameanstoanend.
Gettingattachedtosomeonewho’dbeenboughttosaveherlifewasaspecialkindofstupid.ThetypeofcautionarytaleIwassupposedtopassontomyownsonasmyfatherhaddonetome.
“Disobey,andIwillgiveyouwhatyou’vebeenbeggingfor.”
Divorce
She’dbeenthrowingthewordaroundoftenenough.LikeIwastheoneathermercy.
“Sayit,”shehissed,hereyeschallengingme.“Tellmewhatyou’lldo.TellmeImeannothingtoyou.”
Igrippedthebackofherneck,feelingmydickhardeninginmybriefsasIdid.Icouldn’tallowittoturnintomakeupsex.Thedailydinnerswereenough.Herconstantpresencepushedmetomylimits.
“Ifyoucontinuetoignoreourcontract,I’llhavetobreakmypartofthebargain,too.IfyoustillworkfortheArrowsmithsbymid-week,I’mputtingSamonyourasstotailyoureverymovement.Next,I’mtakingaflighttoEurope,tofuckeveryabledbodyinmyvicinity.Then—withouttakingashowertowashthemoff—I’llcomebacktoputababyinyou,withovulationtests.”MylipstouchedhersasIspoke,andIfelthertremblingagainstme,bothwithangerandlust.“Theirsmellandjuicesinsideyou.Toremindyouthatyouarenothingbutaplaythingtome.Thesadpartisthatwebothknowyou’dletme,FlowerGirl.You’vebeenhotforthisdicksincethedayyousawme.Butyou’dhateyourselfforit,andeverytimeyouwouldlookatourchild,youwouldseewhatI’vedonetoyou.Knowyourplace,Persephone.Youarenotheretoco-rulethekingdombymyside.Merelytohelpmecontinueit.”
Sherippedhermouthfrommine,pushingmychestashardasshecould,herteethchattering.
“Youwouldn’ttouchsomeoneelse.”Shepouncedforward,pushingmeagain.“Youwouldn’t.”
“Really?”Iraisedmyeyebrows,feigninginterest.“Whatmakesyousaythat?”
ItwasbadenoughIcouldn’tspittheworddivorceoutofmymouth.NowIhadtostandhereandlistentowhyIwasapparentlyinamonogamousrelationship.
Mylifecertainlytookaturnfortheworsesinceourgenitalsbecameacquainted.
“Youwillneverfindwhatwehaveelsewhere,”sheseethed.“Andyou’rethestupidestsmartmanalivetothinkthatyoucan.”
“Areyoudonebeingdramatic?”Ileanedashoulderoverthedoorframeofherbedroom,crossingmyarmslikeanexasperatedfather.
“Areyoudonebeingheartless?”shecountered.
“No.Whichbringsustotheonlyreasonyou’restillhere—you’renotpregnantyet.”
“HaveyouconsideredImightnotbeabletohavechildrenatall?”Shebeganputtingherclotheson.Pantiesfirst,thenanoversizedshirt.
“Ihave,”Isaid.“TheminuteIcameupwiththisplan,Imadealistofpros,cons,andpotentialcomplications.Possibleinfertilitywasatthetopoftheconslist.”
“And?”
“Andeveryoneisreplaceable.”
Shefroze,notmovinganinch.
“Isee,”shesaidcarefully.“Inthatcase,don’tletmewasteyourtime.”
Shehadalreadytakenmonthsofmytimebuttellinghersowouldbecounterproductivetousreproducing.
“I’llbecontinuingmyemploymentwiththeArrowsmiths.Youcanfindanothersuitablecandidatetohaveyourpreciouschildren,”shesaidmatter-of-factly,pluckingabrushfromhernightstand,runningitthroughherhair.
PerhapsImisheard.Noonewasasstupidastothrowawaywealth,mind-blowingsex,andfreedomforastupidprinciple.Whatwehadwasdifferent.Itwas…
What?Avoiceinsidemechuckled.Youjusttoldheryouweregoingtovisityourpaid-forflingsifshedoesn’tcomply,thenaddedthat,bytheway,ifshecan’tgetpregnant,youwillreplaceherwitha2.0version.
IknewIneededtoturnaroundandwalkaway,butsomethingtoldmeIwasn’tgoingtogetagoodnight’ssleepifweleftthingsastheywere,whichwasabsurd.I’dalwayssleptlikeababy.Camewiththeterritoryofnothavinganyregrets,worries,orasoul.
“You’restillhere.”Sheflunghermagnificenthairtooneshoulder,partingitintothreesectionsandbraidingitasshegotreadyforbed.“Why?Itoldyoumydecision.”
“Don’tbestupid,”Iwarnedher.
“TheonlystupidthingIdidwasmarryyou.”Shestoppedmid-braidtolungeforward,pushingmetherestofthewayoutofherroom,thenslammedthedoorinmyface.
Itrudgedbacktomybedroom,tooangrytothinkstraight.Isaiddivorcewasn’tanoption,andI’dmeantit.IfPersephonewantedoutofthismarriage,it’dhavetobeinacoffin.WhetherIwastheoneinsideitorherwastherealmystery.
OnceIgottomyroom,Inoticedmyphonewasflashingwithnewtextmessages
Sam:Stopherbeforeshecostsyouthisfuckinglawsuit.
Sam:Don’tletanythingfuckitup.Leastofallawoman.
Cillian:Haveherfollowed,tracked,andsurveyedatalltimesstartingtomorrowmorning.Trackherphoneandtextmessages,too.Idon’twantmywifetotakeapisswithoutknowingaboutit.
Sam:Whateverhappenedtonotgivingashit?
Cillian:Businessisbusiness.
Sam:Finally,yougotyourheadscrewedright.Consideritdone.
Thenextday,IemptiedallofAndrewArrowsmith’sBritishVirginIslandsaccounts.ThemoneySamtoldmehe’dstolenfromhisfather-in-law.Thesumcameuptoalittlelessthaneightmilliondollars.
AndrewshowedupatmyofficedoorlessthananhourafterImovedallthemoneytonumerouscharitiesacrosstheglobe,makinganonymousdonations.
“Sothisishowyouchosetoplaythis?”Hestormedintomydomain,runninghisfingersoverhishair,nearlyrippingitfromhisskull.
Iswungmychairaround,rippingmygazefromamonthlyreportconcerningmynewdrillings.
“Playwhat?”Iaskedinnocently.
“Youknowexactlywhatwentmissing.”
Headvancedtowardmydesk,crashinghispalmoverit,expectingareaction.
Hegotone,allright.Iyawned,wonderingwhatcausedmyrestlessstuporlastnight.
Itwasprobablythelinguini.Ishouldneverhaveeatencarbsfordinner.
Thealternativetowhathadcausedmyrestlessnesswastooridiculoustoconsider.
“Whereisit?”hefumed.
“Where’swhat?”
“Thethingyoustolefromme.”
Ofcourse,utteringthewordsaloudwasadmittingmisconduct.
Irubbedatmychin.“Stilldoesn’tringanybells.Caretobespecific?”
“Cutthebullcrap,Fitzpatrick.Where’smymoney?”Hetriedtograbthecollarofmydressshirt,leaningovermydesk,butIwasquicker.Pushingbackinmyseat,Imadehimdiveheadfirstontomydesk,hiseyeslandingonthemouthwateringnumbersthatcamebackfromthemonthlyreport.
Istood,buttoningmysuit.
“What’smoneyinthegrandschemeofthings,Andymyfriend?YouhavetheArctictosave.”
“Youwon’tbesosmugwhenIknockontheFBI’sdoorandtellthemhowmuchmoneyyoustolefromme.”Hescurriedtohisfeet,straighteninghistie.
“Pleaseletmeknowwhenyoudothat,soIcanpayavisittotheIRSandinformthemyou’vebeenkeepingundeclaredmillionsinoffshoreaccounts.Asurewaytokillyournonprofitcareerfasterthanafishoutofwater.”
Hestiffened,knowingdamnwellIhadapoint.Andrewwouldhavetotakethefinancialhit.Noonewassupposedtoknowhestashedmillionswherenoonecouldseeortouchthem.
Henarrowedhiseyesatme.
“YouthinkIcare?”hehissed.“Youthinkthat’dstopmefromsendingTinderandTreetoEvon?Togivethemallthethingsyourfamilystolefromme?Youcannevertouchmypersonalwealth.Mywifeisamillionaire.”
“No,herparentsare,”Ipointedout,stridingalongthefloor-to-ceilingwindow,watchingthehumandotsgoingabouttheirdayonthestreet.“Realestate,right?Herdaddyisapropertytycoontype?Betthere’sawholecanofwormstoexplorethere,too,”Itutted.“NevermetaNewYorkrealestatemogulwholikedtopayhistaxes.”
Atthispoint,myarmwasshovedsodeepinsideJoelleArrowsmith’sfamilyfortune,onthelookoutforanytransgressions,IcouldtellAndrewthingsabouthisin-lawsIdoubtedtheyknewaboutoneanother.
Andrewrealizedthenoosearoundhisneckwastightening.
“Rememberonething,Fitzpatrick.Yourwifevisitsourhousefrequently.Shetalks.”
IcouldonlyimaginewhatthingsPersephonesaidaboutme.Shewasn’tafanunlesswewereinbed.IhadnoideawhyshetriedtoburstthroughmywallssopersistentlyonlytoruinmydefenseagainstAndrew.
Soshecanhavepoweroveryou.
Arrowsmithhadusedthattacticbefore.Whywouldn’tshe?
“Watchyourback,Cillian.”Hepointedatme.“Ibrokeyoubefore.Iintendtodoitagain.”
Ismiled.“Giveityourbestshot,Andy.Isureashellamgoingtodothesame.”
Therestoftheweekwasanelaboratetorture.
SamsenttwoofhisinvestigatorswiththecombinedIQofacucumbertotrackPersephone.Hepromisedthey’ddotheirbesttoremainunnoticed.
Thedaysfollowingourfight,Ireceivedhourlytextmessagesaboutmywife’swhereabouts.Herpredictableroutinewastheonlythingkeepingmypulsefromexploding.
Shewaseitheratwork,atyogaclass,tutoringtheArrowsmithkids,orwithherfriendsandsister.
Oneplaceshewasnotablymissingfromwasmybed.EventhoughIcouldn’tfaultherfornotcrawlinginmylapatnighttooffermehersweetness,Ihatedthatshewouldn’tletmeinherroom,either.
Theeveningafterourfight,Iarrivedatourmoronicdinnerasifnothinghappenedandwasevencharitableenoughtoofferapieceofinformationaboutmyday.ItoldherIhadfiredthreepeoplethatmorning—didn’tshesayshewantedmetosharethingswithher?—butafterIgotoutoftheshowerandknockedonherdoor,shedidn’topenit.
I’dknockedagain,thinkingshehadn’theardmethefirsttime.
Nothing.
“Iknowyou’rethere,”I’dgrumbled,loathingmyselfforpushingit.
I’dneversoughtoutawomanbefore.AllofmycompanionsexpressedpriorattractiontomebeforeItookthemon.Icouldhavegottenwhattheyofferedforfree.Isimplydidn’twanttohavethemontheirterms—onlyonmine.
“I’mnottryingtopretendI’mnothere,”Persephonehadansweredfrombehindthedoor.
CrackingmyknucklesandremindingmyselfthatshehadeveryrighttobeangryafterIdeclaredIwouldreplaceherwithsomeoneelse,I’drestedmyforeheadonherdoor.
“Youhavemaritaldutiestoperform.”
“Ifyouthinkyou’rewalkingthroughthatdoor,you’renotjustacoldfish,Cillian.You’readumbone,too.”
Cillian.NotHubsorKill.
Shealsocalledyouadumb,coldfish.Perhapsthat’sthepartyoushouldfocuson.
IfeltmynostrilsflaringandmylipsthinningasIuttered,“I’llbequickaboutit.”
“No.”
“Please.”Thewordtastedfunkyinmymouth.Icouldn’thavesaiditmorethanahandfultimesinmylifetime.
“GotoEurope,Cillian.Havefunwithyourlittlegirlfriends.Maybethey’llgiveyouthechildyouwantsobadly.”
Mypulsewasthroughtheroofnow.
Icouldfeelthetensionandpressurecurlingaroundmyneck,andforthefirsttimeinyears,Iknewtheyweregoingtowin.
Beingturneddownbymywifewasn’tevenoneoftheworstthingsthathappenedtomethismonth,yettheideasherejectedmemademewanttotearoffmyskinandcannonballitalloverSamBrennan’shouse.
ItwashisideaIthrowmyweightaroundwithher.NownotonlydidIhaveArrowsmithasaproblembutIalsohadawifewhorefusedtogetknockedup.
Iturnedaround,stormingdownthehallway,zippingpastthemasterbedroomlikeademon,continuingallthewaydownthehall,tothefarthestroomonthesecondfloor.Myfingertipsitched.Myeyelidsticked.Icouldnolongerholditinside.
Couldnolongerreinitin.
Forthefirsttimeinyears,Iwasgoingtoletthebeastcomeout.
Iflungthedooropen.
ItwasanoldstudyroomIconvertedintoaspa.WhateverBSexcuseIcouldgivethebuilderstosoundprooftheroomandfillitwithsoft,unbreakablethings.
Islammedthedoorbehindmeandletthemonsterinmetakeover.
Hopingthebruisesandcutsitwouldsurelyleavewouldbegonebytomorrow.
Onmyseventhdayofcelibacy(butwhothehellwascounting?),wemetforpokeragain.
Samwaswatchful,Hunterwasinhisusualdevil-may-caremood,andDevonlookedlikehewastryingtoworkoutwhatcrawledupmyass.
ExactlyoneweekfromthemomentI’dtoldFlowerGirlshecouldn’ttutortheArrowsmithkidsanymore,andsheproceededtopissallovermydemandsandcontinueaboutherlife,banishingmefromherbedintheprocess.
I’dbeenonedgeallweek,channelingmysimmeringangertowardArrowsmith.Eachday,Ifoundanewwaytopokehim.
Onetime,IsentpaparazzicameramentotakepicturesofAndrewpickinghisnoseatarestaurant.Theother,IhadaPIsitinfrontofhishouseallnightjusttomesswithhishead,andonanotheroccasion,IhadaneditorofoneofthelocalnewspapersrunastoryofthattimeSaintAndrewhimselfwascaughtinathree-wayduringhisfratyearsatwhatevercommunitycollegehe’dattended.
Theissuewithmysecretwas,revealingitwouldbedamagingtoAndrew,too.Iwantedtopushhimtoapointwherehehadnothinglefttolose.Togotomyfatherandtellhim.Exposeme.TurnmefromthegoldenchildtothefraudhethoughtIwas.
Today,Iwasparticularlysour.SomuchsoIhadn’tevengonetotheranchtovisitthehorses.Itstartedinthemorningwhenitoccurredtomethatsomethingwasamiss.ThatsomethingwasthelackofcloudtextsI’dbeenreceiving(andignoring)formonths.
Icouldn’tbelieveImissedAuntieTilda.
Theoldhagneverceasedtocreateproblemsforme.
Persephonewastakingthingstoofar.
IknewIhadtwochoices—eitherIwasgoingtobackdownandthrowmywifeabone,tellherifshecouldn’tgetpregnant,orIwasinfertile,orboth,thatwecouldadopt—whichIwasgenuinelyopento.
OrIcouldflexmymusclesandkickherout.
Ihadthedecencytopretendtodebatethetwooptionsforthesakeofmyegoasweplayed.
Hunterkeptcheckinghisphone.Sailorwasn’tanywherenearreadytopop—shewasn’tevenhalf-closetodelivery—butheactedlikeshewasthefirsthumantogivebirthtoanotherone.
Earliertoday,Sam’sspieshadtextedmeatninea.m.thatPersephonehadarrivedattheArrowsmithhousehold.ShespentawhoopingsixhourstherebeforegoingstraighttoanursinghomeontheoutskirtsofBostontovisitherformergrandmother-in-law.Shewasstillout,probablybathinganddressingGretaVeitch,puttinghertobed.
Mywife,Ihadtoadmit,waseitherthemostna?veordisloyalpersonalive.Possiblyboth.
Onethingwasforsure:forallhertraits,shewasn’tthepushoverIexpectedhertobe.Notbyalongmile.
Snippetsofconversationslicedthroughtheair,unabletopenetratemythoughts.
“…rippinghimanewone.Youhavetocalmdown,Kill.You’vebeengoingsohardatArrowsmith.You’reluckypeoplehaven’tnoticedyet.”
“Killthinksluckisjustlazymath.”
“Killisnotthinkingatall.Checkouthisface.HelookslikeheisabouttokickallofusoutagainsohecanhaveasnugglingsessionwithWifeyDearest.”
Speakingoftheshe-devil,thedoortotheentertainmentroomburstopen,andHurricanePersephonethunderedin.Raindropsscatteredaboutherfaceandlipsliketinydiamonds,atelltalesignoftheshowerspouringoutside.
Tinydiamonds.
OnepremiumcuntandIwasdownforthecount.
Ithadbeengettingwarmerandnicerrecently,butthisweek,it’dbeenpissingrain.
ThestrongresemblancetothesceneofPersephoneacceptingmyproposalinfrontofmyfriendslickedmygut,andIgrinned,watchingherwithanairofamusement.
Finally,she’dcometohersenses.
Mywifeslowedtoastop.BythetimeIrealizedshewasclutchingsomethinginhercurledfist,shetosseditatmychest.Asoaked,heavyclothslithereddownmydressshirt.
IcouldalmosthearSam’s,Devon’s,andHunter’sjawsastheyslammedagainstthefloorinunison.
“You’vebeenfollowingme!”Persephonethumpedheropenpalmsonthetableandinonemovement,wipeditcleanofcards,glasses,andashtrays.Thecontentsofthetableflewtothefloor.“IfoundyourstupidsoldierswaitingbymycarwhenIleftMrs.Veitch’snursinghome,soIdecidedtochasethem.Gotoneguy’sbeanie.Theotherwastoofast.”
“Whichonedidyoumanagetocatch?”Samaskedconversationally.“SoI’llknowwhotofire.”
Hergazeboltedinhisdirection.Shepointedathim.“Shutup,Brennan.Justshutthehellup!”
Iremovedthenowidentifiedbeaniefrommyabs,dumpingthethingonthefloorwithasneer.Iknewanapologywasn’tonthetablerightnow.
AFitzpatrickneverboweddownorcoweredtohiswife.
Hemarriedanagreeablewomanwhosiredotheragreeablewomen,andsonswhowereasimpossibleastheywereawestruckbytheirfathers.
ThatwaswhatI’dbeentaught.
ThatwaswhatI’dlivedby.
ThatwashowIwasgoingtodie,too.
Huntermighthavebeenanexceptionmarryingforlove,buthewasn’ttheeldest.Theleaderofthepack.Themanwho’dbeenburdenedwiththetaskofcarryingonallthefamilytraditions.
Besides,Ihadareputationtouphold.
“Backtohysterics,Isee,”Icommentedblandly,smoothingmyshirt.“CaretotellmesomethingIdon’tknow?Itoldyouaboutmyplanslastweek.Oneofthemwastohaveyoutailed.DidyouthinkIwasn’tgoingtofollowthroughwithmythreats?Didyouthinkyouwere…special?”Ipoutedsarcastically,feigningsadness.
Hereyeswidened.Wewereboththinkingthesamething.Myso-calledplansalsoincludedvisitingmymistressesandhumiliatingherpublicly.
“You’refollowingthroughonallyourthreats,”shesaidhoarsely.Therewasn’taquestionmarkafterthesentence.IknewIshouldbackdown.Everyboneinmybodytoldmeto,butIhadtoseizetheopportunitytoprovetomyselfshedidn’tmeananythingtome.Thatshewasnothingbutatoy.
Ismiledcruelly.“Allofthem.”
“Followingmewasagainstthecontract,”sheremindedme,havingtoomuchpridetomentiontheotherthingIpromisednottodo.
“Actually,Ifoundaloophole.Samdidthefollowing.Ionlygavetheorder.”Iwinked.
“Thedevilisinthedetails.”Samslouchedinhisseat,thoroughlyentertained.
“Now,that’sjustbadmanners,Brennan.Showsomerespecttothemistressofthehouse.”IsnappedmyfingersinSam’sdirection,stillstaringatmywife.“Apologize.”
“Mysincereapologies.”Sambowedhisheadtheatrically,laughing,enjoyingridiculingher.Hewasn’tcapableoflovingawomananddidn’twantmeto,either.“Myheartbleedsforyou.”
Itwasapeculiarchoiceofwords,consideringI’dtauntedPersephoneaboutherbleedingheart.I’dnevertoldSam—noranyotherlivingsoul—aboutthetimeI’dspentinthebridalsuitewithher.
ThedayIcouldn’tstopthinkingaboutforyearsafterward.
ButFlowerGirldidn’tknowthat.
Herfacereddened,andsheclutchedthesidesofherdressinherfists.
NowwasagoodtimetotellherIdidnottellSamwhathappened.
Thathedidn’tknowshepoisonedherself.
BeforeIcoulddoanyofthesethings,Persephoneturnedaroundanddisappearedlikeafleetingray.
Alleyeswereonme.
“Readyformymonsterhand?”Ileanedforwardonthenowemptytable,fanningthecardsIstillheldinmyhand.
Huntergroaned.
Devonrolledhiseyes.
ButSam…Samknew.
Helookedatmewithhiscalm,grayeyesthatdidn’tmissanything,bigorsmall.Importantormundane.
Iplasteredmykingsonthetableandsatback.
HunterandDevonchoked.
“Goddamn.”Huntersmackedhiscardsontherichoak.“Youalwayswin.”
Notalways.
Iglancedattheemptydoorway.
Notthistime.
Threehourslater,myfriendswerefinallygone.
Iclimbedupthestairs,takingthemtwoatatime.Iwasforty-fivethousanddollarsricherandamilliontimesmorelikelytostabSamBrennaninthefaceforhisbadadvice.
Whatonearthmademeputsurveillanceonmywife?Ialreadyknewshewasgoingtodoasshepleased.AndwhatdidSamknowaboutwomen,anyway?Heloathedtheveryideaofthemunlesstheywerehisstepmotherandsister.
Ididn’tbothertogothroughthewholepretending-to-get-ready-for-bed-in-my-roomroutine.IwentstraighttoFlowerGirl’sroomandknockedonherdoor.
Afterthreeknocksandradiosilence,Ipushedthedooropenafewinches.
Theroomwasempty.
“Petar!”
Myroarnearlytoremyvocalcordsandlikelycausedthewindowssomedamage.Myestatemanagerwastherewithinseconds,havingneverheardmeraisemyvoicebefore.
Iwassortingthroughhercloset,tryingtoseeifshe’dleftsomeofheressentialshere.Thethingsshelovedandcherishedthemost.
Shehadn’t.
Dammit.
“Sir,doyouneedanything?”Petarsaidfromthedoorway.
Iturnedtohim.
“Yes.Ineedtoknowwherethefuckismywife?”
Bythelookonhisface,Iwasn’tdoneshockingpeoplewithmyrecentuseofprofanity.Hesnappedquickly,shakinghishead.
“I…ah…she…shedidn’tsay.Ifiguredshewasgoingonaweekendsomewhere?”
“Andwhywouldyoufigurethat?”Iaskedthroughgrittedteeth.
“Well,becauseshetookseveralsuitcaseswithheranddidn’twantanyhelpwiththem.”
“Didshesaywhereshewasgoing?”Idemanded.
“No,sir.”
“Howmanysuitcasesdidshetakewithher?”
“Quiteafew.”
“Doyouknowhowtocount,Petar?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Now’sthetimetousethosemathskillsandgivemeafuckingnumber.”
Hegulped,doingthemathwithhisfingers.
“Seven.Shetooksevensuitcases,sir.”
“Andyouthoughtshewasgoingforaweekend,”Ilamented.Iwassurroundedbyidiots.Heswallowedhard,abouttosaysomething,butIwasn’tinthemoodtohearit.Istormedintomyroom.Apartofmewantedtochaseherassandbringherbackhome,wheresheshouldbe,butanotheracknowledgedthatI’ddonequiteenoughoftwistingherarmtomywill,andthatshecouldverywelldecidetotestifyagainstmeintheArrowsmithcaseifIcontinuedpushingher.
Thethoughtshockedme.
TheideaofPersephonesittingonthestandtellingpeoplehowI’dmistreatedhersickenedme.
Igrabbedmyoakdesk,lookingoutthewindow,diggingmyfingersintoitsohard,thewoodbrokeintosplinters.Iclutchedthesurfaceuntilmyfingerswerebloodiedandshakingwithexhaustion.Untilthetremorsinmybodyceased.
Don’tloseit.
Don’tloseitbecauseofawoman.
Don’tloseitatall.
Igrabbedmyphoneoutofmypocket,abouttotextSam.
Hehadtotellhismentostopfollowingher.
ThenIhadtotellherIwasn’tsleepingwithanyoneelse.
IslidmythumboverthescreenjustasIgotanincomingmessage.
Persephone:Yourefusetoletmego,butyouwon’thaveme.Ifyouwon’tgetadivorce,Iwill.Youcan’tkeepmeagainstmywill.Don’tcallme.Don’ttextme.Don’tcomeanywherenearme.Don’tworry.Iwon’tfileuntilafterthetrialagainstGreenLivingisover.Yoursecret’ssafewithme.Youwantedtomarryastranger.Congratulations.Youjustmademeone.“I’mgoingtokillmybrother,”Sailorannounced.
ShewasstandinginthemiddleofBelle’sstudio,cradlingherbabybump.
Mysister,Ash,andIweretuckedonthecouchinsideagiantthrow,sippingwineinglassesthesizeoffishbowls.IcalledthegirlsforanemergencymeetingtheminuteI’dleftmyhouse.
Myhusband’shouse.
Ourmarriagewasn’treal,andneitherwasourpartnership.
Rightnow,bothseemedinrealjeopardyofsurvivingthelatestblow.
“You’lloffSam,I’llmurderKill,”BelletalkedtoSailor,rubbingmyarmreassuringly.“I’mleaningtowardcastratinghimandlettinghimbleedout.Notnecessarilyusingabluntobject.Somethingthatwouldmaketheprocessslowandpainful.”
“Medicallyspeaking,Idon’tthinkthere’sanon-painfulwaytocastrateamantodeath,”Ashmurmuredintoherwineglass,hereyesflyinginmydirection.“Wasitreallythatbad?”
“Yes,itwas,”SailorretortedbeforeIhadthechancetoanswer.“YouknowPers,she’dneverbreatheabadwordaboutsomeoneifherlifedependedonit.Hunterwasthere,andhetoldmehimself.SaidhewasshockedbyKill’sbehavior.Recently,hewasundertheimpressionCillianandyouhadagoodthinggoing.”
“Honestly?Iwasdumbenoughtothinkthesame.”Iburrowedintomysister’sneck.NowthatIdidn’thavetobestrongandresilientanymore,allIwantedwastobreakdownandcryinthearmsofthepeopleIknewwouldneverjudgeme.
Aislingwrinkledhernose,placingahandonmyknee.
“YouknowIthinkKillhavingprivateinvestigatorsfollowyouisdeplorable,butyouneveractuallytolduswhatthenatureofyourrelationshipwas.Again,I’mnottryingtomakeexcusesformybrother.Igrewupseeinghimathisbestandhisworst,soIknowbothversionsofhimarefrighteningtotheaverageperson.Butyourrelationshipwasneverexplained,”Ashsaidgently.“Ijustwanttomakesurewe’regettingtheentirepicturesowecanadviseyouaccordingly.”
“Ash’sgotapoint.”Bellepeereddownatme.“Youjusttoldusyou’regettinghitchedoneday,thenpoof!”Shesnappedherfingers.“Youwereamarriedwoman.Everytimeweseeyouwithyourhusband,helooksatyoulikeyou’rethebrighteststarinthesky.Atthesametime,weallknowyoudidnotgotheusualcoupleroute.TellushowyoubecameMrs.Fitzpatrick.”
Thequestionwasn’tunwarranted.Whatwehadlookedbizarretooutsiders.
Heck,itwasweirdfromtheinside,too.
Myfriendsrolledwiththepunchesbecausethatwaswhatwedid—wehadeachother’sbackunconditionally—butnothingaboutmymarriagemadesense.
Igrabbedahandfuloftissues,dabbingmynoseandeyes.Myheadhurtfromallthecrying.Takingabreath,Istarted.
“WhenPaxtonleftme,hedidn’tleavemewithnothing.Heleftmewithahundredthousanddollarsofdebt.Itwastheworsteightmonthsofmylife.Theloansharkshe’dbeenindebtedtochasedmearound,lurkedoutsidemyworkplace,patrolledBelle’sapartment…itgotrealbad.Theyevenphysicallyattackedmeonetime.”
AshiverthatfeltawfullylikeKaminski’sfingerrandownmybackbone.
Belle’sholdonmetightened.Aislingheldherbreath,andSailorstaredatmewithopenhorror.Iturnedtomysister.
“ItwasthetimeItoldyouIgotmugged.Ididn’twanttoaskHunter,Sailor,orAislingforthemoney.Itwasn’tasmallsum.Itwasastraightupfortune.”
“Wewouldn’thaveminded!”Aislingcriedout.
“Don’tbestupid.”Sailorrolledhereyes.“Ofcourseyoucould’veaskedusforit.You’refamily.”
Ishookmyhead.Itdidn’tmatterthatIalmostdid.AllthatmatteredwasthatIhadn’t.
“Whenthingswentfrombadtoworsewiththecreditors,IwenttoCillian’sofficeandaskedforaloan.Hesaidno.Afewdayslater,hecamebackwiththemarriageproposal.HesaidallmyproblemswouldgoawayifIsaidyes,and…well,hekepthispromise.”
Itoldthemaboutourcontract.Aboutmyhesitation,stemmingfromhowmuchI’dalwayslikedhim.Howmycrushonhimneverfullyworeoff.HowIconvincedmyselfmarriagewouldcomefirst,butthathewouldgrowintolovingmebackastimewentby.
Itookashovel,dugintotheuglyparts,anddumpedthemonthecoffeetableformyfriendsandsistertodissectandinterpret.BythetimeIwasdone,therewasonlyonemoreconfessiontomakeinordertofeelcompletelyliberated.
“Wannaknowwhattheworstpartis?”Igrabbedthecheapbottleofwine—wasitourfourthorfifth?—pouringageneroushelpingintomyglass.“ThatIstilllovehim.I’vealwayslovedhim.ThefirsttimeIsawhimatthatcharityballSailordraggedustobecauseshedidn’twanttobealonewithHunterandIsetmysightonCillian,Iknew.Iknewonedayhewouldtakemysoul,setitonfire,andwalkallovermyasheswhenitwasalldoneanddealtwith.I’dknownitfromtheverymomentIfoundmyselfstaringathimwhilehewaswatchingEmmabellefromacrosstheroom.Hewaslostinmysister,butIfoundmyself—everythingI’deverwanted—inhim.”
“Killneverlooksdirectlyatthethingshewants.”Ashsqueezedmyhand.“Hesaysdesireisaweakness.IfhewantedBelle,hewouldn’thavelookedather.”
“Idon’tknowwhattodo.”Idroppedmyheadtomeknees,sighing.“ItoldhimIwantadivorceaftertheGreenLivinglawsuitisover.Ineedtoleave.Leavebeforehebreakswhatever’sstillleftinme.Leavebeforeheleavesme.”
Thelastsentencerobbedmeofmybreath.TherewasagoodchanceCillianwasgoingtocometotheconclusionIwasn’tworththedrama.Cuthislossesandmoveontothenextwifeonthelist.Nothingwentsmoothlybetweenus.Iwasn’tpregnantyet.Iwasworkingforhisenemy,stillkeepingintouchwithmyex-husband’sgrandmother…
Itwasnotwhathewanted,andKillFitzpatrickalwaysgotwhathewanted.
Nottomention,Icouldn’tlivelikethisanymore,either.Straddlingthelinebetweenrealandfake.
Bellewasthefirsttospeak.
“Mymindandmyheartareatwarrightnow.Ican’tbelieveI’msayingthis,butI’mabouttogiveyoumyheart’sadvice.Rememberatthecabin,allthosemonthsago?WhenCillianbethisassinpokerandleftthemoneyforSailorandmetotake?Theonlythingheaskedwasforusnottobadmouthhimtoyou.Itwasverytelling,mostlybecauseKill’snameisbeingdraggedthroughthemudonadailybasisinthenewsandhedoesn’tseemtogiveashit.Ithinkhecaresforyou.Ithinkhedoesn’twanttocareforyou,buthedoes.Hedoesn’twantyourlovedonestotellyounottobewithhim.Ilostabet,andIintendtorespectit.Ican’ttellyoutoleavehim,Pers.Notnow.Notyet.”
Myguttwisted.
“Samalwayssays,achildwhoisnotlovedbyhisvillagewillburnitdowntofeelitswarmth,”Sailorsaidquietly.Shetookaseatontheedgeofthecoffeetable,rakingherfingersthroughherfire-redhair.“IthinkCillianhasbeenwatchingeverythingaroundhimburnforfartoolong.TheFitzpatrickmenarewounded,buttheyhideitverywell,andfromwhatIgather,verydifferently.Ifanyonecanstophimfromdestroyingtherestoftheworld,it’syou.Givehimtime,”Sailorwhispered.“It’sthemostpreciousgiftofall.”
IturnedtoAisling.Shewastheonlypersontoremainquiet.Shewasalsotheonlypersonwhodidn’tlosethebetwithKill.
“Ithink”—shebitherlowerlip—“mybrotherwantsyou.Ithinkhecaresforyou.ButIalsoknowhewasthesamemanwhoblackmailedyouintomarryinghim.Heknewyourlifewasindanger,andhetookadvantageofyou.Idon’tknowifthisisthekindofenvironmentyouwanttoraiseyourchildin.”Sherubbedatherforehead,strugglingtoletthewordsout.“Igrewupinadysfunctionalfamily,andIdon’thaveitinmetorecommendyougothesameroute.Idon’tthinkyoushouldstay.”
Weweresplitdownthemiddlenow.
Stayorwalkaway?
Myheartsaidonething;mybrainsaidanother.
Intheend,itwasmybodythatwon.
Ifellasleepinthearmsofmybestfriends.
Myestrangedhusbanddidnotcontactmefortwoweeks.
I’dspenteverysingledaywithTinderandTree,ignoringCillianrightback.JustbecauseIdidn’ttrulyleavehim,didn’tmeanIwasgoingtoactivelyseekhimout.SomethinghadbeenbrokenthedayI’dfoundouthehadmefollowed—maybeevencheatedonme—andIneededtime.
Imovedbacktotheapartmenthe’dsetupforme.JustalittleF-youtomyhusband,lettinghimknowIintendedtomakeuseofalltheplushamenitieshe’dofferedme.
WhenSaturdayrolledaround,IshoweduptomytutoringsessionwithTinderandTreebearinggifts.Iwasn’tGeraldFitzpatrick.Icouldn’tfaultthetwonuggetsfortheirfather’ssins,andI’dgrowntoloveandcareforthem.
EspeciallyTinder,whoneededeveryounceoflovehecouldget.
“Guesswhoishere,andwithpresents!”Joelleannouncedwhensheopenedthedoorformethatmorning.Imarchedincarryingbagsofgoods.TinderandTreedescendedthestairway,squealingindelight.TreesliddownthebannistersmakingpiratenoiseswhileTinderbouncedonhistoesallthewaydown.Theybothtackle-huggedme.Wefellonthefloorinaheapofbreathlessgiggles.
“AuntiePersy,lookwhatImadeforyou.”Tindershovedadrawinginmyface.Thetitlegavemepause.Hethoughtofmeasfamily,andIwasn’tfamily.Iwas,infact,justtheopposite.Still,Ipluckedthepaperbetweenhispudgyfingers,gaspingandaskingquestions.
“It’samap.Ifwefollowit,we’llgettoheaven,andinheaven,everyoneisnice,andnoonehitsyou!”Tinderexclaimed.
Iwhippedmyheadinhisdirection,abouttoaskhimwho,exactly,hithim,whenTreepouncedonme.
“What’dyougetus?”Treegrabbedmycheeks,squashingthem.“Isitatruck?ItoldMommyIwantoneforChristmas.Red.Ithastobered.Itmust.Yourfavoritecolor,right,AuntiePersy?”
“Tree,mygosh,whywouldyousaythat?Anygiftiswelcome.Thefactshethoughtaboutyouisenough.”Joellescoffed.Oureyesmet,andwesharedasmile.Inthepastfewmonths,we’dbuiltatentativefriendship,basedonoursharedloveforhersons.Iknewitwasn’teasyforhertoopenuptome.Especiallyseeingasshehadtoslamherdoorinthefacesofjournalistsandcameramenonadailybasiseverytimemyhusbandleakedanunflatteringpieceofnewsabouthers.
AndrewArrowsmithwasnolongerthemedia’ssweetheartthankstomyhusband.
Nowtheywerebothbadmenwhohatedeachotherandstoppedatnothingtodestroyoneanother.
IwantedtogiveherthetoolstobethereforTinderandTree.
EspeciallynowthatI’dbeenwiththefamilylongenoughtoknowAndrew’spresenceintheboys’lifewasalmostnonexistent.
“You’rehere,”Andrew’ssteelyvoicerumbled,andwealllookeduptothetopofthestairways.
Thetimingofhimbeingheremademyheartleap.“Andrew.”
“How’reyoudoing,sweetheart?Isthatsavagehusbandofyoursstillgivingyoutrouble?”
“Andrew!”Joelleyapped,blushing.
Iraisedmyhandup.
“It’sokay.”Iturnedtosmileatherhusband.“Actually,Imovedout.”
Thewordsfeltbitteronmytongue.Whatanincrediblytraitorousthingtosay.ButIhadtothrowmyplanintohighgear.Ididn’tknowhowmuchtimeIhadwiththefamily.HowmuchtimeIhadwithCillian.Iwasworkingagainsttheclock.
“Youdid?”Hiseyebrowsjumpedtohishairline.“Why,ifImayask?”
Iwasstillsittingonthefloor,thetwinsinmyarms.
“I’mnotsosureit’sgoingtoworkoutafterall.”
“Isee.Howunfortunate.”
Ismiledpolitely.“Well,Ihaveadayfullofactivitieswiththekids.Ibettergetstarted.”
Henoddeddistractedly.“Yes.Ofcourse.Iwon’tkeepyou.Ihavesome…somephonecallstomake.”
Tohislawyers,nodoubt.Heprobablywonderedifitwastherighttimetoaskmetotestifyagainstmyhusband.
“Thankyouforsharingthisinformation,Persephone.Itmeansalottoustohaveyourtrust.You’dtellusifMr.Fitzpatrickmistreatedyouinanyway,wouldn’tyou?”
Andthereitwas.
Thebottomline.
Themasterplanwebothhadformybeinghere.
“Ofcourse.Youguysarelikefamilytome.”
TheLannisters,butwhatever.
Andrewturnedaroundandmadehiswaybacktohisoffice.IproceededtohandTreeandTindertheirgifts,withJoellestandingnexttous.Imotionedforhertocomejoinus.Shedid.
“Thankyou,youshouldn’thave.”Shecroucheddown.“Iknowyousaveeverypenny.”
“Ilovetheboys.”
Tinderunwrappedhisfirstgift.Achewingnecklace.Shark-toothedshaped.Heyelpedindelight,thrustingitinhismother’shand.
“Cany-youputitonm-me,Mommy?”
Shestaredathimforamoment,shocked.Ihadafeelingshedidn’thavemanymomentslikethesewithherchildren.
“I…ofcourse.Turnaround,sweetie.”
IwatchedthemasTreeunwrappedhispresent—abikehelmet—blabbinghappilyabouthowhewantedamotorcyclewhenhegrewup.Joelle’shandsshookasshewrappedthetoddlernecklacearoundherson’sneck.Tearsprickedmyeyes.Somewherealongtheway,Joellehadforgottenhowtomother.Ormaybeshenevergotthechancetobeoneatall,alwayshelpingherhusbandchasehisdreams.
Tindertwitched,curlinganduncurlinghisfists,makinganimalnoises,whichhedidoften.
“Iwasraisedbyaupairs,”Joellesaidgrimly,hereyesstillonthenecklaceshewasputtingonTinder.“Ithoughtthat’sthewaythingsweresupposedtobe.Ineverplannedonhavingasonwhois…”
“Special?”Ifinishedforhersoftly.“It’sablessing.Itmakesyougrow.Findyourstrength.There’salotwecanlearnfromchildren.Thingswe’dalreadyforgottenbutshouldn’thave.”
“Likewhat?”
“Likewhat’simportantinlife.Family.Friendship.Thebeautyofalonecloudsailingacrossaperfectlybluesky.Kidshavetheirprioritiesstraight.It’susadultswhosometimesforgetthemeaningoflife.Nowcome.”Istood,offeringhermyhand.IwasforminganunlikelyfriendshipwithawomanwhofantasizedaboutdestroyingmyhusbandnolessthanIwantedtotopplehers.“Let’smakenewmemorieswiththeboys.It’snottoolate.It’snevertoolate.”
IledeveryonetothetwobikesI’dpurchasedearlierthatweek.Iusedmyownpaycheck,refrainingfromtouchingKill’sallowance.Themoneycontinuedpilingupinmyaccount,likeamountainofbrokenpromisesandcrackeddreams.
Wespenttherestoftheafternooninthebackyard,teachingtheboyshowtorideabikewithnotrainingwheels.TreegotthehangofitquicklywhileTinderclungtomeandmademepromisenottoletgoofhisbiketheentiretime.IttookfourhoursandahundredattemptsbeforeTindermanagedtorideazigzaggedline,buthedidit,andmyheartwasreadytoburstwhenIsawhisfacelightup.
“I’mdoingit!I’mriding!”Helaughed.Treefollowedbehindonhisbike,makingracecarnoises.JoelleandIlookedatthem,laughing.
“Ineverthoughthe’dlearn.”Shegiggled.“Thankyousomuch.”
“I’m-I’m-I’mgoingto-to-totellD-D-DaddyIcanrideabike.Maybehe’llcomedownstairsands-seeus?”Tindertuggedatmyblouse.Ilookeddownandsmiled,ignoringJoelle,nexttome,whosesmileturnedintoagrimace.
“That’sagreatidea,Tin!I’msurehe’sgoingtobeoverthemoon.”
Tinderpaddedbackintothehousethroughtheglassdoor,makinghappynoises,hisarmsjerkingabout.
“Mommy!Look!Nohands!”Treebragged,stretchinghisshortarmsoneithersideofthebike.Joellehurriedtohersoninamixtureofaweandanxiety.Iwonderedwhatitfeltliketowatchyourownchildspreadtheirwingsandtaketheirfirstflight.Thehorrorofknowingeveryonefalls,getshurt,getsscarred.Thatyoucannotshieldyourchildfromtheuglinessoftheworldforever.
Notwantingtointerrupttheirmoment,Iturnedaroundandenteredthehouse.I’dbeenwantingtocheckiftheyhadingredientsforaspongecake.Theboyslovedbakingintheafternoons,andeventhoughGretadidn’trememberwhoIwasanymore,shealwaysappreciatedagoodcake.
TheminuteIwalkedintothehouse,Inoticedthewallsrattledwithapiercingscreamcomingfromupstairs.
“Justfuckingsayit.Don’tstutterit.Say.It!”
Itoreupthestairsinaflash,thesoundsofAndrew’sshoutsdrowningthethudsofmyfeethittingthewood.
“Ican’tfuckinglistentoyouanymore,youno-goodpieceof…pieceof…crap!Youremindmeofhim.You’rejustlikehim.Alittle,stupidloser.”
IscreechedtoahaltonthethresholdofAndrew’soffice,panting.ItwasthefirsttimeI’deverbeenthere.Hewascrouchingdown,shakingTinder’sshoulders,sprayingspitalloverthepoorkid’sface.
Ididn’tthink.
Ididn’tevenstoptodigestwhatwashappening.
Istormedinside,scoopingTinderinmyarms,rippinghimfromhisfather’shands.Andrewstoodandstaggeredbackward,hisfacemorphingfromangertoshock.Hedidn’tthinkhe’dhaveanaudience.
“Persephone.”
Mynamefellfrombetweenhislipslikeacurse.Likehewantedtoshakeme,too.Howoftendidhedothistohim?Tinder’swordsvibratedinmybody,makingithumwithrage.
“It’samap.Ifwefollowit,we’llgettoheaven,andinheaven,everyoneisnice,andnoonehitsyou.”
ThebetterquestiontoaskwashowmanymoreoutburstscouldTinderexpectinhislifetime—many,Isuspected—andhowmanymorevictimswereoutthereintheworldwhosufferedunderAndrewArrowsmith’swrath?
Thelastquestionhitmehard.
Ithitmehardbecausedeepdown,IknewtherewasatleastoneotherpersonclosetomewhowasshatteredbyAndrew.
Traumatizedenoughtoswearofftheentirehumanraceafterward.
“Look,Iknowwhatitlookslike…”Andrewmadeamovetowardme,hisvoicesoftandsoothing.
IjerkedTindertomychest.
Ishookmyhead.“I’mnotreadytotalkaboutwhatIwitnessedherebeforeItalkwithyourwife.”
“What’shappeninghere?”Joelle’svoicedriftedfromthehallway.Iturnedaroundtofaceher.Thelookonmyfacesaiditall.Thehopeful,opensmilethatgracedherlipstheentireafternooncollapsedintoaglare.
“Oh,no.Whatdidyoudonow,Andy?”
Nowimpliedtherewerealotofbefores
“Ijusttoldhimtospeakclearly.”AndrewtriedtolaughitoffandtousleTinder’shair,buttheboyburiedhisfaceinmyshoulder,sniffing.
“Heshookhim,”Isaidquietly,notwantingtoaddanymoredetailstoavoidembarrassingTinder.Kidsweremuchmoreperceptivethanadultsgavethemcreditfor.“I’mgoingtotaketheboysdownstairstomakeaspongecake.I’msureyouhavethingstotalkabout.”
IofferedmyhandtoTree,whostoodbehindhismother,andwentdownstairsstillholdingTinder.
“Canwemaketrianglesandwichesfirstandcutoffthecrust?Ihatethecrust.”Treegiggled.
“Ofcourse.Whataboutyou,Tin?Wouldyoulikeanythingforasnack?”
“A-A-Antsonalog,please.S-S-SorryImadeDaddyupsetwithmystut-stut-stuttering.Ididn’tmeanto.”
Hecoiledintohimselfinmyarms.Ishookmyheadbriskly.
“Nonsense.Iwantyoutoremembersomethingveryimportant,okay,boys?SomethingIwantyoutocarrywithyoueverywhere,nomatterwhereyougo,likethenecklaceIgaveyou.”
Wereachedthebottomofthestairs.IputTinderbackonthefloorandcrouchedtotheireyelevel.
Theynodded,theirbig,innocenteyesclingingtomyface.
“WheneverDaddyloseshistemperandyellsatyou,it’snotyourfault.Wearenotresponsibleforotherpeople’sactions.Onlyforourown.Thatisnottosayweareneverwrong.Itisourjobtotrytodoourbesttobecomebetterandalwaysholdourselvesaccountableforourownactions.ButneverblameyourselfforwhatDaddyorMommyisdoing,okay?Promiseme.”
“Scout’shonor!”Treeputtwofingersup.
“I-Ipromise,too!”Tinderjumped.
Myheartrattledinmychestlikearusty,emptycagefulloffeelingsIdidn’twanttoface.
ThefamilyIwastryingtobuildwasathreattothesechildren.
Andtheirparentswereathreattomine.
ButIcouldn’tturnmybackonthem.
Notanymore.
Idroppedmyhalf-fullduffelbagtothefloor,scowlingatPetar.
“Really,dude?Youpromisedhewouldn’tbehere.”
ThesoundofthefrontdoorbeingthrownopenwasenoughindicationmyhusbandwalkedintothehouseeventhoughI’dspecificallycalledPetartomakesurethecoastwouldbeclearsoIcouldpickupthesmallstuffI’dlefthereandmoveitbacktomyapartment.
Petarhitchedashoulderuphelplessly.
“Hewasn’tsupposedtocomeuntiltenoreleven,Iswear.Eversinceyouleftthehouse,he’sonlycomeheretosleep.Sometimesnoteventhat.ThreetimesIhadtosendacouriertotheofficewithanewsetofsuitsforhimthisweek.”
ThoughitwastemptingtofeelbadforKill,Ipushedtheemotionoutofmyheart.
Ithrewtheduffelbagonmybed,stuffingtheknickknacksI’dforgotteninmyhastetoleavetwoweeksago.
“Whereisshe?”IheardCillian’srumblefromdownstairs.Petardidthesignofthecross,lookedup,anddashedoutofmyroom.Itdidn’ttakearocketscientisttoknowwhereIwas,soIleftthequestionhangingunanswered.
Sureenough,notfivesecondslater,Cillianwasstandingatmybedroomdoor,darkandsurlyasHadesholdinguneatenpomegranates.
“Backsoearly?”Ihuffed,stuffingoneofmyonehundredthousandfloweryself-helpjournalsintomybag.“WhatwouldDaddysay?Ithoughtyouwereborntowork.”
Hewalkedin,closingthedoorbehindhim.
“Shouldn’tyoubeatwork?”Imadeidleconversation,knowinghowmuchheloathedit.
“Shouldn’tyoubelivingwithyourhusband?”heshotback.
“No,”Isaidevenly,zippingthebloatedbag,tuggingatthestuckzipper.“Youspentthepastfewmonthscementingthefactthatwearen’tarealcouple.AllI’mdoingisfinallylisteningtoyou.Youdidagreatjobconvincingmewe’renothingmorethanacontract.”
Iavoidedlookingathimdirectly.Thehornet-stingthatcamewithlayingmyeyesonhismagnificencewastoomuchonanormalday,andcompletelyunmanageablewhenwewereestranged.
Astrangeroranally,Cillianalwayshadthetalenttomakemyheartsingandmysoulweep.
Foralongbeat,hejuststoodthere,drinkingmein.
Hetookastepforward,puttingahandonmyarm.
Iwantedtobreakdownandcry.
TotellhimwhatIsawAndrewdo.
ToconfessIcouldn’teatorsleepwell.
“ItoldSamtopullthesurveillance,”hesaid.
Ilookedupathim,throughacurtainofunshedtears.
“And?”
“AndIhaven’ttouchedanyonesinceIputaringonyourgoddamnfinger.”Hislipsbarelymoved,hisjawwassotight.
“And?”Iarchedaneyebrow.
Givemeanemotion.
Anyemotion.
“AndIshouldn’thavebrokenthecontract,”hesaidgruffly,lookingawayfromme.“Itrustyou.”
“Bullshit,”Ichokedonadrylaugh.
Hesaidnothing.
IwasbeginningtoseenothingIcouldsayordowasgoingtochangehismindaboutpeople.Aboutme.Hewasincapableoffeelingsandpushinghimtolovemewouldachievenothingotherthantomakehimresentme.Evennow,hedidn’twantmebecausehelikedme.
OnlybecauseIwasacomfortablearrangement.Ameanstoanend.
“You’renotleaving,”hesaidsimply.
Ipulledthebag,hoistingitovermyshoulderandturningtofacehim.
“I’msorry.”
Hesteppedtowardme,snarling.
“Sorryforwhat?”
“Forchangingtherulesonyou.Forbreakingthecontract.Foraskingformore.IrealizethatIwasoutofline.Iwantyoutomarrysomeonewhogivesyouwhatyouwant.Whoishappywithwhatyou’rewillingtogiveback.AndI’mnotthatperson.ImeantwhatIsaid.Assoonasyourlegal/PRissuesareoverandeverythingquietsdown,wecangetadivorce.”
Isidesteppedhim,buthematchedmystep,gettinginmyfaceagain.
“Allthisbecauseofonemistake?”Hescowled.“IalreadytoldyouIhaven’ttouchedanyoneelse.Youwerewatchedexactlyoneweek,Persephone.”
Ithrewmyheadback,laughing.“Youthinkthat’stheonlyproblem?Onemistake?Getreal,Kill.Younevertreatedmeasyourwife.Neverspenttheentirenightinmybed.Nevertookmeononedatethatwasn’tafancyevent.Nohoneymoon.Nomeaningfulconversation.Iwasneveryourequal.Theonlythingthat’schangedisthatnow,IfinallyrealizeIneverwillbe.”
Hiseyesthundered.Ibethispreciouspulsewasskyrocketing.Ididn’tthinkherealizedIevenknewaboutit.Howheputhisfingerstohiswristdiscreetlytokeephimselfincheck.
Howhecrackedhisknuckleseverytimehegotruffled.
“Idinedwithyoueveryevening.Ifuckedyoueverynight.Itookyoutoballs.Tofamilydinners.Iboughtyoujewelry.Whatmoredoyouwantfromme,Persephone?”
“Arelationship.”Ihurledtheduffelbagonthefloor,growling.
“Idon’tknowhowtohaveone!”hescreamedbackinmyface.
Killbegantopace,shakinghishead.
“Idon’tknowwhatthatevenmeans.Ineverhadarelationship.Yourequestsomething,andImakeithappen.Isthatnotwhatarelationshipisabout?”
HowcouldIevenanswerthatquestionwithoutsoundinglikeacompletebitch?
“HowdidyouknowIwashere?”Iasked.
“Thishouseiswiredmorethanapoliceinformantinabadcopshow.”Herolledhiseyes,stoppingtoexamineme.
“Soyoulefteverythingandcamehere?”
Heparkedahandonhiswaist.“YoutalklikeIdon’tgiveadamn.”
“Youdon’t.”
“Well,newsflash.”Hetookastepforward,plasteringmetothewall,hishandcomingtothebackofmyneck,grabbingitashetiltedhisheaddown.“Ido.I’mnotfuckinghappyaboutit,tobesure,butthatdoesn’tmakeitanylesstrue.”
ItwaseverythingI’dwantedtohearsincethedayImetCillianFitzpatrick,yetatthatmoment,itwastoolate.
Iflifetaughtmeanything,itwasthatgivingyouralltosomeonewhoonlyagreedtoreturnafractionofthemselvestoyouwasabadidea.
“Comehome,FlowerGirl.”Hiseyesflutteredshut,hismouthmovingovermine.Thesensationwaslikearollercoaster,whenyoutipovertheedgeandyourstomachdips.Therushofwarmthflaringinmychestmademybodybuzz.Kill’swordsdriftedthroughmycloudedbrain.“Letmefuckyou.BethewifeIneed.Youjustneedabitmoretraining.Afewmoremonthsandwecanfuckeachotheroutofoursystem.”
Months.
Wehadanexpirationdate.
Wewouldalwayshaveanexpirationdate.
Irippedmymouthfromhis.
Hedidn’tgetit,andIwastiredofexplaining.
“Givemeonereasontostay,Cillian.I’mnotaskingformany.Justtheone.Somethingtoholdonto.”
“BecauseIwantyouto.”
“No.Somethingelse.Somethingthat’snotcompletelyselfish.”
“Ican’tbeanythingotherthanselfish,”hesaidbrusquely.
Ipickedupmyduffelbag,pushingathischest.
“Assoonasthelawsuitisover,we’regettingadivorce.”
ThistimeIdidn’tlookback.
Ipushedthroughthepain.
Numb,prideful,andonlyhalf-alive.
Ifinallyknewwhatitmeanttohaveyourheartbroken.
Understanding—finally—thatPaxtondidn’tasmuchasputadentinmine.
Igotbacktomyapartment,threwmyselfintotheshower,andshovedafewdryricecakesdownmythroat.Myimprovisedversionofdinner.
Ihadn’tevenunpackedthebagIretrievedfromCillian’shouse.Justfellonmysofainmylivingroomandflippedthroughchannels,battlingaheadache.
Allthelocalnewsheadlinedthesamestory,aboutCillianandAndrewgoinghead-to-headinthetrialthatwouldtakeplacesoon.ThenewsanchorcuttoavideooftheoilrigintheArctic,anuglyblackthingstickingoutlikeasorethumbinthemiddleoftheinfiniteblue.Crushedshardsoficescatteredarounditlikebrokenglass.MyheartbledforthepieceofnaturethatfellvictimtoCillian’scruelty.
Youandmeboth,Arctic.
Ipickedmyphoneupandtypedmyhusbandamessage.
Me:StoptheArcticdrilling.
Me:Youwantheirssomuch,haveyoueverstoppedtothinkaboutwhatkindofworldyouareleavingforthem?
Hisresponsecamepromptly.
Cillian:Yes.Onewherethey’llbefilthyrich.
Me:Doesbeingrichmakeyouhappy?
Cillian:Happinessisafeeling,ergo…
Me:Youcan’tfeelit.Gotcha.WhatdidAndrewdotoyou?
Cillian:Hemademe.
Me:Andwhatareyougoingtodotohim?
Cillian:Undohim.
Mydoorbellrang,nearlymakingmejumpoutofmyskin.
Itwasn’tKill’sstyletoshowupwherehewasn’tinvited.ButIknewtherewaszerochanceofitbeinganyoneelse.Myparentsdidn’tknowIlivedinthisapartmentandnotmyhusband’shouse,Emmabelleworkednights,Sailorwasprobablyoffsneakingintoarcheryranges—onlytobechaseddownbyherworrisomehusband—andAislingveryrarelyraisedherheadupfromthemedicalbooksthesedays.
Rollingupfromthecouch,Ipaddedtomydoor.
“Youreallyhavesomenervecominghereaftertheconversationwejusthad.”Iopenedthedoor,readytogivemyhusbandapieceofmymind.
MyheartdroppedassoonasIsawwhoitwasontheotherside.
Paxton.
JustbecauseIcalledoffSam’sprivateinvestigatorsdidn’tmeanIletgoofmyunhealthyobsessionwithmywife.
No.Thatwouldbethenormal,sanethingtodo.
Notmyfuckingstyle.
Inmydefense,Isetmyphonetoreceivenotificationseachtimeherapartmentdooropened,notbecauseIsuspectedshe’dcheat,butbecauseIwantedtoknowshe’dmadeithomesafely.
WhyIstillgaveadamnaboutherwell-beingwasbeyondme.
Thepilingevidenceagainsthershouldhave,inandofitself,mademedropherlikeamicafteranamateurrapnight.
Persephoneworkedformynemesisonadailybasis.
VisitedPaxton’sgrandmother.
Whatonearthmademebelieveshe’dbefaithful?
Nothing.Theanswertothatwasnothing.AndasIwatchedtheblond,broad-shoulderedmanintheNextDoorappshiftingfromfoottofootonherdoorstep,headbowed,fingerstappingthesideofhislegs,waitingforhertoopenthedoor,IrealizedI’dbeenplayed.
Ridiculedandundermined.
Betrayedtothehighestdegree.
Samwarnedmehewasunfinishedbusiness,andIdidn’tlisten.
Nowherehewas,intheflesh.
PaxtonVeitch.“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?”
TheF-bombwasaguestofhonorinmyvocabulary.Irarelyuseditbutfelttheurgetospititoutforthisspecialoccasion.MybodyshooksobadlyIhadtograbthedoorhandletostopmyselffromcollapsing.
Myex-husbandstoodinfrontofme,lookingappallinglyhealthyforsomeonewho’dbeenontherunforthepastyear.Tan,muscled,andatleastasfarasIcouldtell,stillinfullpossessionofallhisteeth.Hisblondcurlsscatteredabouthisheadplayfully,hissoulfuleyesblinkingbackatme.
“Babe.”Hislipstwistedinarelievedsmile,andheletoutasigh.“Fuck,youlookjustasgorgeousasIremember.Holyshit,Persy.Lookatyou.”
Hegatheredmyhandsinhis,bringingthemtohismouth,laughing.Tearscoatedhissparklingeyes.Iwastooshockedtoshovehimaway.
Paxtonwashere.
Intheflesh.
Afterhundredsofunansweredphonecalls,emails,andsleeplessnights.
Myheadswarmedwithquestions.Wherehadhebeenhiding?Whendidhecomeback?Howdidhefindhiswayintomybuilding?Therewasadoormanattheentrance.
Mostly,Iwantedtoknowwhy.Whydidheleavemetodealwithhismess?
AndifImeantsolittletohim,whycomebackandstandatmydoorway?
Myhandswerestillinhis,scorchingwithhisbetrayal.Isnappedoutofmyreverie,pushinghimaway.
“I’llrepeatmyself.”Itookastepback.“What’reyoudoinghere,Paxton?AndhowdidyouknowwhereIlive?”
“DroppedbyGrandmaGreta’snursinghome.Yournameandaddresswerelistedasanemergencycontact.”
“That’srightbecauseyou,heronlylivingrelative,wereMIA.”
“Iknow.”Hisvoicebroke.“I’mheretomakeamends.Letme?Please?”
Hekissedmycheekhastily,wormingintomyapartmentuninvited.
Iclosedthedoor,knowingIwasgoingtoblowtherooftopwithscreamsinabouthalfasecondandnotwantingtogetevictedorcausingCilliananyembarrassingheadlines.
“GivemeonegoodreasonnottotellByrneandKaminskiyou’rebackintown.”Icrossedmyarmsovermychest.
Paxtongavehimselfatouraroundmylivingroom,whistlingashedrankintheexpensivefixtures,gourmetkitchen,andquartzcountertops.Hisneckcranedashestudiedthelighting,onehandbrushingoverafloor-to-ceilingartpiecethatcostmorethantheapartmentwe’drentedtogetherwhilemarried.
“Wow.Okay.Nicedigs.”
WhenhesawIwasstillstandingbythedoor,fullyreadytothrowhimout,hepokedhislowerlipout.
“C’mon,babe.It’sbeenaminute.Weneedtoironthingsout,butthere’salottotalkabout,don’tyouthink?”
No,mymindscreamed.
SamhadtoldmeI’ddodgedabulletthenightofthestorm,whenItriedtoacceptCillian’sproposalandfoundouthe’dalreadywithdrawnit.ButthedeadlybulletI’descapedwasthedayKilltookmeasawife.
Hemademyproblemsdisappear.
Putmeoutofharm’sway,nomattertheprice.
“I’mnotbuyingyourcharade,”Isaidpointedly.
“Fine.”Hisvoicedroppedtoalowgrowl.“Thenlet’sgetreal.I’mgladyourboujiassislivingthegoodlife.Gotyourselfasugardaddyandfoundyoursass,huh?”Paxtonwinked,hischarming,dimpledsmileonfulldisplay.Hejerkedmyfridgeopen,takingoutaglassbottleofjuice.ThekitchenhadbeenstockedthriceaweekbyCillian’speople.
ThethoughtofPaxtonbeinghere,drinkinganorganicpressedjuiceatKill’sexpensemademewanttopunchhimintoawall.
Ihadn’tbeenfairtomyhusband.
Hefulfilledhisendofthebargain,providingmewitheverythinghe’dpromisedandmore.Inreturn,Ipushedhimintogivingmethingshewasincapableofproviding.Love,sympathy,andtenderness.
Killdeservedtoknoweverything.
AboutmyplantodestroyArrowsmith.
AboutPaxtonbeinghere.
“Thewordyouarelookingforisahusband.Myhusbanddoeswellforhimself,yes,”Icorrected.“Butevenmoreimportantthanhisdeeppockets,hewaskindenoughtogetmeoutofthetroubleyougotmeinto.KnowingCillian,hewon’tappreciateyoubeinghere,soIsuggestyougetoutofherebeforehedoesthejobByrnecouldn’tfinish.”
Paxtonsnappedhisheadtowardmemid-sip,hiseyesbulging.
“Don’ttellmeyoufellinlovewithhim.That’ssuchasapmove,Pers.Richboysdon’thavehearts.”
“NeitherdopooronesfromSouthie,apparently.”
Hecollapsedontoabarstool,groaningashescrubbedhisface.
“Look,IknowIhaven’tbeenthemanyoudeserve,babe.ButIneededawayout.Iknewyouweregoingtogetusoutoftrouble.Icouldn’tkeepintouchwhileyouwereworkingongettingusoutofthis,butIstoodonthesidelinesandwatched,readytopounceiftheyactuallydidsomethingtoyou.Ialwayshadyourback,Pers.Ididthistoprotectyou.Protectus.”
Theliewassohalf-assed,thatIfelthystericallaughterbubblinginmythroat.Hecontinued,undeterred.
“Ourgoodbyewastemporary.Ialwaysplannedtocomeback.Youweresmart,resourceful,andresponsible.Ijustneededyoutodomethislittlesolid.WhenIsawthearticleaboutyourmarriagetoCillianFitzpatrick,Iwantedtokissyou.Ithought,‘that’smygirl.’IwasbeginningtoworryByrnewouldfollowuponhisthreattopimpyouout.Iwasabouttostepin.”
Heputahandtohischest.Helookedlikeabadsoapoperaactor.ThetypetowinaRazzieawardeveryyearandbearrogantenoughtowalktheredcarpettoacceptit.
Mybloodbuzzed.Iwasonthebrinkofsmashinghisnoseinwithmyfist,andIneverhurtsomuchasafly.
“Youknewtheywerefollowingme?”Igrittedout.
Henodded.“Ikeptaneyeonyoutheentiretime.Madesureyouwereokay.Iwasworriedsick,Pers.”
“Iwasn’tokay.”
“Youreallyneedtogiveyourselfmorecredit,babe.Youdidgreat.”
“Howdidyoukeeptabsonme?”Idemanded.
“Friends.”
“Whichfriends?”
“C’mon.”HewavedhishandaroundasthoughIwasmissingtheentirepoint
“Wherewereyou,Paxton?”Ipressed,takingasteptowardhim.
Nopartofmewasunsureorambivalent.
Nodisappointment.
Nosorrow.
NopangofthatwildheartbreakthattoreatmeeachtimeCillianleftmybedatnight.
AllIfeltwasdisgust.
“Hereandthere,”Paxtonsulked,avertinghiseyesfrommetohisshoes.
Theidiotthoughthecouldwaltzintomylifeandreclaimme.
Hemistookmybleedingheartforadumbbrain.
“YoueitheranswermyquestionsorI’mcallingsecurity.”Iraisedmyphoneintheair.
Heshotmeatiredsmile.
“How’dyouthinkIendeduphere?Thesecurityinthisplaceistrash.”
“Inthatcase”—Iswipedmyfingerovermyphone’sscreen—“I’llcallmyhusband.Don’tlethisrich-boyreputationconfuseyou.Heisverygoodwithhishands,beyondjustmakingmecome.”
Paxton’sjawconstricted,hiseyesdarkening.
“Don’t,”hebitout.“Fine.Whatever,Persy.Youwannaplay?I’mgame.Whatdoyouwannaknow?”
“WhotoldyouaboutByrneandKaminskifollowingme?”
“Mitch.”MitchwastheguyhewaspairedwithbyByrneforassignments.“HewasstillhustlingforColinafewmonthsafterIbailed.StillshootstheshitwithKaminskieverynowandagain.”
“Wherewereyouallthistime?”
“CostaRicawasmyfirststop.ThedaywordgotoutthatByrneknewIblewalloursavingsandcouldn’tpayhimback,Iboughtaone-wayticket.Ilaidlowthere.Workedinconstruction.SavedupwhateverIcould.Atfirst,I’dhopedIcouldcomeupwithhalfthemoney,thenpaytherestinBoston.Ialwayswantedittoworkbetweenus,Persy.Ijustknewkeepingintouchwithyouwasgoingtoputyouinawholelottarisk.ThenthenewsofyoumarryingFitzpatrickbrokethefuckinginternet.Therewerememesaboutit,dude.IpickedupthephoneandcalledMitch.Askedifitwastrue.HetoldmeyourhusbandmadesureKaminskicouldnevertakeapissstandingupagainhetrashedhimsobad.Byrnewasn’tdoingsohot,either.IrealizedIwasprobablynextonyourhusband’sshitlist.ThathewasgoingtounleashSamBrennanonme.Brennanhaseyesandearseverywhere,soImoveduptoMexico.Cancun.Stayedwithafriend.”
“Afriend?”Iaskedwithasnort.TheonlypieceofinformationtomakemyheartstutterwasCillianbeatingupKaminski.Ihadnoideahedidthat.
“Achickfromhighschool.She’srunningaspringbreakresortthere.Itwasalwayscrowded,lotsofpeoplemovinginandout.IknewBrennanwouldhaveabitchofatimecatchingmethere.Icleanedherpool.”
“Platonically,Iassume.”Irolledmyeyes.Hewassuchacliché.
Helaughedhumorlessly.
“Please,Pers.Let’snotpretendyouhaven’tbeensuckingFitzpatrick’scockeverynightthebetterhalfofthisyear.Webothdidwhatwehadtodoinordertosurvive.”
“Inmycase,Ienjoyedthetaskimmensely,”Ilamented.“Youhaven’tevenpickedupthephonetocheckinonyourgrandmother.”
IknewbecauseIaskedatthenursinghomeifthey’dheardfromhimeachtimeIvisited.
Paxtonfloppedhischeekoverhisfist,sighing.
“Iknewyouwouldtakecareofher.I’dtrustyouwithmyownlife.Youalwaysdotherightthing.Listen,we’reoutofthewoodsnow.Mitchtoldmethedebthasbeenpaid.Byrne’soutofthepicture.Wecanbetogether,Persy.Startoverfresh.Pickupwhereweleftoff.Hedidn’tmakeyousignaprenup,right?”
Myex-husbandwasn’tonlyinsane,hewasalsoasdumbasashoestring.ItriedtorememberwhatIsawinhiminthefirstplace,beyondhisInstagrammodellooks.Theanswerwasclearasitwasembarrassing—hewasthedesignatedrebound.TheantidotetoCillian’srefusal.Theuntriedvaccinethatendedupnearlykillingme.
“We’rehappilydivorced.Imarriedsomeoneelse.”Ierectedmyweddingfinger,anengagementringwithadiamondthesizeofhisfacesparklingbackathim.
Inevertookitoff.EvenwhenIknewIshould.
Paxtonjumpeduptohisfeet,hurryingovertome.Maybeitwasbecausehewasn’tbuiltlikeCillian—notquiteastall,asbroad,ascommanding—ormaybeitwasbecausehesimplywasn’tCillian,buthisverypresenceannoyedme.
“Igetit,babe.You’reangry.You’rehurt.Youhaveeveryrighttobe.Butyou’renotfoolinganyone.Yourmarriageisn’treal.”Hestoodbeforemenow,grabbingmyarms,itchingtoshakeme.
“Ourswasn’t,either.Inthespiritofbeingcandid,I,too,haveaconfessiontomake.”Ibrokeoutofhisgrip,takingastepforward,mybreathfanninghisface.“Youwerealwaysnothingmorethanadistraction.ItwasalwaysKillYouwereonborrowedtime.ButCillian?Cillianismyforever.”
Thewordssettledbetweenus,aninvisiblebarbed-wirebarrier.
BythewayPaxtonstaredatme,Iknewhewantedtoripitapart.
Thehungerinhiseyesalarmedme,evenifIknewitwasn’tforme,butforallthethingsIrepresentednow:wealth,power,andconnections.
“Allright,”herustled.“Youwin.I’llbethesidepiece.Butit’sgonnacostya.”
“Idon’twantasidepiece.EvenifIdid,youwouldbethelastpersonontheplanetI’dconsider.Youaremeanandselfish,Paxton.GetoutofmyapartmentbeforeIspeed-dialSamBrennanandthrowyououtmyself.”
“Babe,”hegroaned,seizingmebythejaw,walkingmebackwarduntilmybackhitthedoor.“Iknowyou’repissed,butweweregoodtogether.”
Hislipsspokeovermine.Hewaskissingme.Half-kissingme,anyway.Hisbreathandheatandbodypressedagainstmine.Histonguerolledovermylowerlip.
“Idon’twantgood,”Ispatintohismouth.Hetrippedbackward,hiseyeswide.
Aslow,vicioussmilespreadonmyface.Ididn’trecognizemyselfinmybehavior,andforthefirsttime,Iwasfinewithit.“Iwantdivine,andIfoundit.Getthehellout,Veitch.”
“You’recrazyifyouthinkI’mlettingyougo.”
Itwaspromise,awarning,andadeclaration.Hesteppedaway,givingmeaonce-over,assessingmebeforehemadehisnextmove.“I’llchangeyourmind.Iwonyouonce,andIcandoitagain.Whetherit’stheeasywayorthehardway,you’llbewrithingbeneathmeinnotime,andwhenyouare,Ipromiseyou,Persephone,Iwillmakesureyourhusbandknowsit.”
“Out!”
Heshoulderedpastmewithhistailtuckedbetweenhislegs.
Iclosedthedoor,locked,andboltedit,thenpressedmybackagainstit,lettingoutaraggedbreath,feelingratherthanthinkingawordthat’dbeenpulsatingagainstmyskinfromthemomentIsaid“Ido”tomynewhusband.
Saved.
“Youdumbpieceofcock-suckingshit.”IraisedafisttoSamBrennan’sfacetheminutehewalkedthroughmydoor,slammingitagainsthisthrice-brokennose
I’dtextedBrennanatfiveinthemorningtolethimknowifhedidn’tshowupatmydoorstepinfifteenminutes,IwasgoingtobuyeverybuildinginSouthie—federalandprivate—andbulldozethrougheachchildhoodmemoryinhisneighborhoodjusttoshitalloverhisday.
Hemadeittomyhouseinnineminutesanddidn’tevenlookruffled.
I,ontheotherhand,movedfromnoprofanitytonothingbutprofanity.
“Goodmorningtoyou,too,”hesaidcalmly,readjustinghisnosebacktoitsplacewithoutasmuchasawinceasbloodspurtedoutofhisnostrils.Thecrackthebonemadealonewouldmakeanyonebutthetwoofusgag.“TowhatdoIowethisgreeting?”
“Tobeingabullshitprivateinvestigatorandaterriblefuckingfriend.Youslackedoff.Guesshowmywifespenthernightyesterday?”Iplasteredhimagainstmyfrontdoor,swingingmyfistagain.
Ijabbedhisribs,feelingandhearingatleasttwoofthemcrack.
“Withyourdickinherass?”heaskedflatly,tappingthepocketofhisleatherjacket,takingoutapackofcigarettesandlightingoneup.Hereallywasimmunetopain.“Isuggestyoutryotherholesifyou’reinterestedinknockingherup.”
“You’reasickhuman.”
“Thankyou.”HedroppedhisZippointohisfrontpocket.
“Itwasn’tacompliment.”
“Tome,itwas.Mostpeopledon’tconsidermehumanatall.Sowhatwasyourwifeuptoyesterday?”
Isteppedbackfromhim,realizinghislackoffearandpainmadeitpointlesstobeathimup.Iwalkedovertothebarcart.Itwasfiveo’clock.Sure,itwasinthemorning,butIneverletsemanticsgetinmyway.
“PaxtonVeitchpaidheravisit.”Ipouredafingerofcognacintoagoblet,trainingmyeyesonthegoldenliquid.
Samlimpedinmydirection,hisexpressionunfathomable.“He’sintown?”
“Youshould’veknownthat.”
“Youtoldmenottocheckonhim.Youwerefuckingspecificaboutit,too.”Heleanedagainstthewall,watchingme.
Hehadapoint.I’drejectedtheideaPaxtonVeitchposedathreattomymarriageforsolong,beingproveddifferentlywasn’tonmyradar.
“Youneedtotailhim,”Iinstructed.“Findoutwhyhe’shere.Whathewants.”
“Icantellyourightnowwhyhe’shere—he’sherebecausehisex-wifejustmarriedintooneofthewealthiestfamiliesinthecountry,andbecauseheisamoney-grabbingscumbag.Doyouneedmetodeal-dealwithhim?”Heraisedhiseyebrows.
Myinstinctstoldmetosayyes.
HaveSamoffhim,chophimup,andthrowhimintotheocean.
NotnecessarilytheAtlantic.Thatwastooclose.TheIndianOceansoundedgood.
I’dnevermadesucharequestbefore,butinVeitch’scase,Iwasreadytomakeanexception.I’drefusedtogivemywifetheonlythingshe’deveraskedfromme—love—andsentherrightintothearmsofherex-husband,whowasprobablywaxingpoeticatherallnight.
Iprettymuchwrappedherupinabowandhandedherovertohim.
YetIcouldn’t,forthelifeofme,dothistoher.
Haveheridioticex-husbandkilled.
NomatterhowmuchIwantedhimoutofthepicture.
Ishookmyhead,clutchingthegobletsohard,itdentedoutofshape,theliquidrainingdowntothefloor.Sam’sfaceremainedunmoved,asifIhadn’tjustbentagoldchalicewithmyownfist.Idumpedittothefloor,turningtothebarandpluckinganapkin.Ipattedmypalmcleanofalcoholandblood.
“Don’ttouchhim.Justfindoutasmuchasyoucan.Wherehelives,whathe’sdoing,what’shisangle.I’lldealwithhimmyself.”
Samnodded.
“Doitnow.Dropeverythingelse.”
Anothernod.“Anythingelseyouwanttoknow?”
Yes,IwantedtoknowifIwastrulylosingPersephone,butthatwasbeyondSam’sscope.
“Justdoyourfuckingjob.”Iturnedaround,ascendingthestairwaybacktomyoffice.
Icursedagain.
Butthistime,noonewassurprised.
Iwasbeginningtounfurl,break,crack,andshatter.
Iwaschanging
Feeling.
AndIhatedit.
Ispenttherestofthedaypretending.
Pretendingtobepresent,pretendingtowork,pretendingnottogiveadamn.
Iattendedmeetings,scoldedemployees,wentthroughourquarterlyreports,andgrabbedlunchwithDevon,inwhichwestrategizedourdefenseincourtagainstGreenLiving.
“Ishouldnothaveeatenthesashimi.Itupsetmystomach,”Icomplainedwhenwepartedwaysattheentranceoftherestaurant.
Devonbarkedoutalaugh.“Thesashimiwasfine.Thequeasyfeelinginyourgutislonging.IsPersystilllivinginherCommonwealthflat?”
Ididn’tevengracethatwithananswer.LongingwassomethingteenagegirlsdidwithArmieHammer.Theonlylongthingaboutmewasbetweenmythighs.
Atsixo’clock,Icalleditaday.Idrovebackhome,parked,thenspottedPersephone’sTeslaatthefrontgate.
Killingtheengine,Igotoutofthecar,somethingweirdandwarmrattlinginmystomach.
Foodpoisoning.Fuckingrawfish.Isawadocumentaryaboutit.Iprobablyhadmaggotsthesizeofshitsinsidemyintestines.
Takingmeasuredstepstothefrontdoor,Iglancedthroughthewindow.Ispottedmywifestandingbythestairway,herdelicatehandperchedonthebannister
Sheworeawhitedress,herblondhairtumblingdownhershouldersallthewaytothesmallofherback.Adirtyangelwithagoldencrownforahalo.
Imaginaryantstraveledupmytoes,allthewaytomyskull.
Iroundedthefrontentrance,tryingtogetabetterangleofher.IsawhertalkingtoPetar,herbacktome.PetarwasstandingdirectlyinfrontofthewindowIwasstandingbehind.Hespottedme.Hisfacewentfromdistressedtosurprisedinseconds.Iwasn’tknownforhidingbehindbushesandwatchingpeople.Especiallypeoplewhowereinsidemygoddamnhouse.
Hismouthopened,probablytotellherIwasthere.Ishookmyhead.Heclampeditshut.
Whywasshehere?
Takeawildguess,asshole.
Shewasheretothankmeforthemoney,divorce,andenthusiasticdick,packtheremainderofherpossessionsandrideoffwithPaxtonintothehorizonintheTeslaIwasdumbenoughtopurchaseforher.
UnfortunatelyforFlowerGirl,playingintoherhandswasn’tinmyplans.Notanymore.Ifshewantedtodestroythismarriage,shewasgoingtohavetodoitthelong,slow,excruciatingway.Iwasn’tgivingherthechanceatacleankill.
ThememoryofmyvisittoColinByrnestirredsomethingviolentinme.
“Veitchwantedtowhoreouthiswifeallbyhimselfbeforehefuckedoff.Hewantedtokidnapherandgivehertome.”
Irememberedhiswords,verbatim.
I’dneverwantedtokillapersonmorethanIhadwantedtoputabulletinPaxtonVeitch’sskull.
AllIneededtodowaswalkinsidethehouseandtellher.
Itwasthatsimple.
ButIknewit’dhurther.
Breakherspirit.
Showherthatthemanshechosetospendtherestofherlifewithwantedtosellher.
Itwasaterribletimetogrowaconscience.
Iturnedaround,walkedbacktomycar,andcalledSam.
“GivemePaxton’saddress.”
Iwasn’tgoingtobreakPersephone.
ButIsureashellwasn’tgoingtolettherealvillaingetthegirl.
PaxtonVeitch’stemporaryresidencewasnothingmorethanashackinthebackroomofanillegalpokerjointinSouthie.Judgingbytheexteriorofthedecayingtwo-storybuilding,hewasprobablysleepinginacotmadesolelyofgarbage,pubichair,andSTDs.
Ratherthanannouncemyarrivalwithaknock,Ikickedtheflimsyscreendoordown,bargingin.
Threeroundtablesfullofmenwithoilanddirtstainsontheirfaceslookedupatme,theireyessnappingofftheircards.
“PaxtonVeitch,”Igrumbled.Nootherwordswerenecessary.
Silencerangintheroom.
Iknewdanglingmysharpsuitandexpensivehaircutinfrontofthemwasinvitingtrouble,butIwelcomedit.Sighing,Itookoutmywalletandraisedahundred-dollarbillbetweenmyindexandmiddlefingers,wavingitaround.
“I’llaskagain,where’sPaxtonVeitch?”
Thistime,themenshiftedintheirseats,glancingateachother.
“Oh,forfuck’ssake,wedon’tevenknowhim,whyareweprotectinghim?He’sinthebackroom!”oneofthempipedup,banginghiscardsoverthetable.“Takethestairsup.Hisistheseconddoorontheleft.”
Idroppedthebilltothefloor,proceedingasafewmenrushedtothefloor,fightingforthemoney.
WhenIgottothedoorIwaslookingfor,Itookafewbreathstocalmmyselfdown.I’dimaginedgoinghead-to-headwiththebastardlongerthanI’dliketoadmit.BeforePersephoneandIwereonspeakingterms.
ThememoryofherkissinghimatHunterandSailor’sweddingstillmademybloodboil.
I’dwalkedalongthehedgegarden,inwardlyconvincingmyselfIwasn’tacompletemoronforrejectingthePenrosegirlIwantedsomuch.Thetopiaryassaultedmyeyesight.Atackymixtureofangels,animals,andheartshapes.Thesoundofpantingmademeslownexttoacloud-shapedshrub.
“Oh,Paxton,”athroaty,sweetvoicehadmoaned.
Mybloodrancold.
Itookastepaside,pretendingtoreadasignexplainingthedesignofthegarden.Frommyposition,Icouldseestrandsofwhite-blondhairwovenintheshrubs,adelicate,snowyneckextended,andamalemouthpepperingkissesalloverit.
“God,you’resofuckingsweet.What’syournameagain?”
“Persephone.”
“Persy-phone-ay.”Hishandswereeverywhereashemispronouncedhername.“Whatdoesitmean?”
I’dstrainedmyneck,developingperversesatisfactioninmakingmyselfwatchherinanotherman’sarmsaftersnubbingher.Hisheadtraileddownherbreasts,disappearingfrommylineofvision.Shewaspantinghardandfast.
Takeagoodlookatwhatyoudid.Sheisinsomeoneelse’sarmsnow.
Someonenormal.
Whodeservesher.
Now,Paxton’sdoortauntedme.
Ipusheditopen,unbotheredaboutstompingintohisterritoryunannounced.Hedidthattwicetome.Itwastimehegotatasteofhisownmedicine.
Hewasintheroom,havinganintensephoneconversation,standinginfrontofasmall,dirtywindowwithhisbacktome.
“YouthinkI’mnottrying?It’snotaseasyasIthought.She’schanged,man.Probablyallthatdoughandgold-platedcock.”Hesnickered,snorting.“I’mnotgonnahurther.IstilllovePersy,youknow.She’salwaysbeenmygirl.Ijustwantinwithherass,soIcangetmyway,too.There’stoomuchmoneyinthatpotformenottogetmyshare.”
AtleastnowIknewshehadn’tfuckedhimyesterday.
Silverliningsandallthatjazz.
Igrabbedthephonefrombehindhimandkilledthecall,tossingthedeviceontohisbed.Hewhippedhisheadaround,hismouthhangingopen.
“Shi—”
Ishovedhimtowardawoodendeskpushedagainstthewall,shuttinghimup.
Hesaggedontoit,ploppingdown.
“Timeforalittletalk,Veitch.”
“You’retheFitzpatrickguy.”Hisbrowsfurrowed.“Thedudeshemarried.”
“AndhereIthoughtyouwerejustaprettyface.”
Weexaminedeachother.Hewasagood-lookingkid.Lighthair,softfeatures.Cladinabroken-inleatherjacketandsaggyjeansthatmadeitlooklikeheneededhisdiaperchanged.
Paxtonfoldedhisarmsoverhischest.
“Look,man,Idon’twantanytrouble.”
“Ifyoudidn’twanttrouble,youwouldn’tchaseitacrosstheplanet.DoyoureallythinkI’dletyoutouchwhat’smine?”
Heshookhishead.“Idon’tknowwhattothink.AllIknowisthatPersyandIhadagoodthinggoing.Ifuckedup,butshe’sagoodgirl.Shecouldstillforgiveme.”
Thatmeantshehadn’tyet.MyheartslowedforthefirsttimesinceIsawhimenterherapartment.Ituggedattheleatherglovesinmybackpocket,slappingthemovermythighandputtingthemon.Histhroatbobbedwithaswallow.Good.HeneededtoknowIwasn’tabovegettingdownanddirtytogetmypointacross.
“Don’tmistakePersephone’sgoodnesswithnaiveté,”Iwarned.“Sheispastforgivingyou.”
“Youdon’tknowherlikeIdo.”Heshookhishead.
“WhatIdoknowisthatyoutriedtopayByrnewithherascurrency,whichiswhyI’mhere.Now,you’regoingtolistencarefullyandfollowmyeveryinstruction,andIwillspareyourmiserable,pointlesslife.VeeroffthelaneIputyouon,andI’llmakesureyouslamintoaten-tonsemi-trailerandfeedwhatever’sleftofyoutothehyenas.Areyoufollowingmesofar?”
Heclutchedtheedgesofthetablebehindhim.Ireachedover,grabbingthegunInoticedwastuckedinthebackofhisjeans,cockedit,andpushedthebarrelagainsthisforehead.
“You’regoingtowriteaten-pagelettertoPersephone,inwhichyouapologizeprofuselyforbeingtheshittiesthusbandinthehistoryofcivilization.Inthisletter,youwilltaketheentireblameforthefalloutofyourmarriageandexcuseherfromanywrongdoings.Iwillreadandapprovetheletterbeforeyousendit.Afteryousendit,youwillpackabag,drivetotheairport,andbuyaone-waytickettoAustralia.Oncethere,youwilldrivetoPerth,whereyouwillsettledown.Perth,incaseyou’rewondering,isthefarthestpointgeographicallyfromtheUSofA,andthereforeexactlywhereIwantyoutobe,atleastuntilVirginGalacticoffersflightstoMars,towhichIwouldbehappytorelocateyou.Youwillnot,underanycircumstances,contactmywife.Youwillnot,underanycircumstances,write,call,ormeetheragain.IfIhearyouasmuchasbreathedinherdirection,Iwillunleashmythree-headedhoundsonyou—aHadesreference,incaseitescapedyourbird-sizedbrain—nomatterwhereyouare.Iwillmakesureyouexperiencethemostpainfuldeathknowntoman.Tellmeyouunderstand.”
Ipressedthebarrelhardertohisforehead.Paxtongroaned,closinghiseyes,drippingsweat.
“Iunderstand.”
“Iwillprovideyourflightticket,accommodations,andaworkpermit.Therestisforyoutodealwith.”
“Idon’t…”
“Thisisnotaconversation.”Iheldupmyfreehand.“Thisismefeelinguncharacteristicallycharitableandnotblowingyourbrainsout,mainlybecausebloodmakesmywifefeelqueasy.”
Henoddedagain,gulping.
“Forgetshe’severbeenapartofyourlife.”
Anothernod.
“Oh,andPaxton?”
Islidthegundownthebridgeofhisnose,tuckingitintohismouth.Hiseyeswidened,adropofsweattrailingdownthesamepaththebarrelhadmade,explodingonhisneck.
“How’dyouenduphere?Webothknowyoudon’thaveapennytoyourname.”
“ArruwArrameeth,”hesaidaroundthebarrel.
“AndrewArrowsmith?”Ipulledtheweaponfromhismouth.Hewipedhismouthwiththebackofhishand.
“HefoundmeinMexico.Paidformyflightbackhere.Gotmethisapartmentandtoldmetogetmygirl.Saidshewasintrouble.Thatyouwerehurtingher.Goodguy.Nothinglikeyou.”
AndrewknewPersephoneandIhadbeenestrangedandtriedtotakeadvantageofit.
Iwipedawayastraytearthatslippedfromhiseyeusingthegun.“That,Iagreewith.DoasIsay,andnobodywillgethurt.OtherthanArrowsmith,butIsupposethat’snotyourproblem,isit?”
Heshookhishead.
Iemptiedthegunofbullets,putthemintomypocket,thenthrewtheweaponontothecothe’dusedasabed,nexttohisphone,walkingaway.
“Haveanicelife,Veitch.”Isalutedwithmybacktohim.
Hedidn’tanswer.
Heknewtherewasn’tachanceofthateverhappening.“Mygoodness,Tin,howdidyougetthisboo-boo?”Ileaneddown,brushinganasty,openwoundonTinder’sknee.
Wespentthedaytogether,justthetwoofus.JoelleandAndrewattendedacharityeventanddecidedtoonlybringTree,the“normal”child,along.Theonewhodidn’tmakeanyfunnynoisesormadeheadsturn.JoellelookedguiltywhensheaskedifIcouldtutorTinderalonetoday.Iknewtheideatoleavehimbehinddidn’tcomefromher.Icouldn’thelpbutresentherfornotfightingforherprinciples.Forherson.
IfIcouldgoagainstoneofthemostformidablemeninBoston—amanIloved—whycouldn’tshedemandherboybetreatedashisbrother’sequal?
IvowedtomakeitamemorabledayforTinder.Atreat,ratherthanapunishment.WewenttoSparrowBrennan’shigh-enddinerforbreakfast,whereweshovedpancakesandwafflesdownourthroats,thenloungedbyCharlesRiver,watchingthecloudsasItoldhimGreekmythologytales,justasAuntieTildausedtodowithme.
TinderchewedonthesharknecklaceIgavehim,sniffingashepointedatanalmostidenticalinjuryonhisotherknee.
“T-Thisone,too,”hestuttered.
Ikissedbothkneesbetter.
“Let’sgotoWalgreensandgetsupercoolBand-Aidsforthem.Whatdoyousay?”
“Y-Y-Yes!Maybethey’llhavePuppyDogPals.”Hisnosetwitched.Islippedmyhandinhis.Wewalkedpastthegreenbannisters,kayaks,andpedalboats.Thesunpoundedonourfaces.
“Sowhathappened?”Iasked.“Didyoufalloffyourbike?Ihopeyouknowithappenstoeveryone.”
“No,”heansweredquietly.“Itwasn’tt-thebike.”
“Whatwasit,then?”
Thesilencethatfollowedwascrammedwiththethoughtsteeminginmyhead.LikethatweirdletterIgotfromPaxton,thatsoundednothinglikePaxton,andhismirage-likedisappearance,thathappenedasquicklyashisreappearance.
Orhowmyhusbandhadbeenavoidingmetheentireweek,notonlyrefusingtoacceptmyhousecallseverytimeIdroppedby,butalsododgingmytextmessages.Iwasdaysawayfromshowingupathisofficeandembarrassingusboth.TheonlythingkeepingmefromdoingsowasIunderstoodhisneedtobefullyfocusedontheGreenLivinglawsuitagainstRoyalPipelinesaheadofthetrial.
ButIneededtotellhimaboutPaxton.AboutAndrewArrowsmithandmyplan.
“ItwasDaddy.”
Thewordshitmeinthechest,crackingitopenandspillingafeelingI’dneverfeltbefore.NoteventoByrne.OrKaminski.OrPaxton.
Pure,consuminghatred.
Istoppedinthemiddleofthebusystreet.AwomanwalkingaFrenchbulldogbumpedintous,makingacyclistwhowhizzedbyswear.Ignoringthem,Icrouchedtomyknees,holdingTinder’sarms,myeyeslevelingwithhis.
“Howdidhedothistoyou?”Iasked,inavoiceIjustbarelymanagedtokeepsteady.
Tinderlookeddown,drawingacirclewiththetipofhisshoeinthesand.Heflinched,hismovementsjumpy.
“I-I-I-I…”Hetried,thenstompedhisfootandbithistongue.“Oof!Ican’tgetthewordsout.N-N-Nowonderhehatesme.”
“Tinder,”Iwhispered.Hewashavingaticattack.ThefirstI’dwitnesshimhaving.Herecoiledinthesamemannereveryfewseconds,arepetitivemovement,pinchinghisshoulderstogetherandthumpinghishead.Hecouldn’tstop.
“I’mnotyourfather.I’myourfriend.You’vegotallthetimeintheworldtotellmewhathappened.IjustwanttoknowsoIcanhelpyou.Youarenotintrouble.”
Ilethimridetheticout,takingastepbacktoallowhimasmuchspaceaspossible.Theticssubsidedafterafewminutes,meltingintosmall,familiarnosetwitches.Iscoopedhiminmyarms,stoppedatastreetvendor,boughthimapplejuiceandasoftpretzel,andsathimonabench.
“Tellmeeverything,Tin-Tin.”
“Heusedaruler.”
Sayingnothing,Iwaitedformorewhilemyheartloopedarounditself,rollingintoapileofpainfulknots.
“He-He-He-Hesaidthatitworks.Hesaidhecouldc-c-cureme.Saidhediditb-before.HetoldMommywewillbothbegratefulwhenit-itwasdoneandoverwith.He-heletmereadtheABCsandthensomen-n-numbers,andeverytimeIstutteredorha-ha-hadatic,hehitthemetalruleronmyknees.HedidituntilIbledandM-M-Mommytoldhimshewouldcallthepolice.IcriedeventhoughMommyaskedmeno-no-notto.”
FeelinglikeI,myself,wasonthevergeofanattackofsorts,Iforcedmyselftokeepmyvoicecalm.TherewasnoneedtoscareTinderanymorethanhealreadywas,buttheviolenturgetotakehimawayfromthisfamilyleftmegaspingforair.
“Isthisthefirsttimeyourdaddyhasdonethistoyou?”
Icouldn’tletgoofthememoryofAndrewshakinghissonwhenthelatterhadtroubleexplaininghimself.
“No.”Tinderpickedoffthesaltfromhispretzelabsentmindedly.“Onetime,afterwecamebackfromapartywhereIembarrassedhim,heputmyheadinasi-si-si-sinkfullofwater,inandout,ina-andout.He-He-HesaidthathewouldonlystopifIstoppeda-actinglikeaweirdo.Bu-butitworkedbecauseIstoppedforawholeweek.”
Icouldn’tblink.
Swallow.
Breathe.
Myworldcollapsedundertheweightoftheunspokentruththatlandedonmyfeet,andsuddenly,everythingbecamecrystalclear.
IsteppedontoamineCillianwastryingtokeepmewellawayfrom.Unravelingasecretthatwasn’tformetofind.
“Doesyourdaddytreatyourmommyandbrotherthisway,too?”
“No.HelovesTreeandtellshimhewillsendhimtoafancyschoolinEngland.Ith-thinkhelovesMommy,too.Evenifsometimeshepushesheraround.Heneverpushestoohard.”Hepaused,contemplatinghiswordswithafrown.“Otherthanthetimehepushedherofftherailings,andshefelldownstairs.Butshefelltothecouchandwas-wasn’thurt.Andshelaughedaboutitsomaybeitwasajoke.”
Ormaybeshedidn’twanthersonstoknowwhatapieceofworktheirdadwas
IknewIhadthreeproblemstodealwith.
OnewastokeepTindersafe.
ThesecondwastoexecutemyplanassoonastodaywhileIwasstillwelcomeintheArrowsmithhousehold.
AndthethirdwastoconfrontmyhusbandaboutwhatI’dsuspectedallalong.
Icheckedthetimeonmyphone.Itwastwoo’clock.TheArrowsmithsweren’tgoingtobehomeuntilatleastsix.Ihadakey,thoughIwasexpectedtopassthetimeoutofthehousewithTinder.
Theydidtrustmeenoughtogivemeakeyincaseofanemergency.Afterall,Iwasintheircamp.Supposedly.Livingseparatelivesfrommyhusbandanddespisinghimasfarastheywereaware.Thedifferentbankaccounts,thestrategiccomplainingaboutCillian,andlettingtheminonourseparationhadpaidoff.
Nowitwastimetokickmyplanintothirdgear.
TosaveTinder.
TosaveCillian.
Andwhoknew?Maybeevenmymarriage.
ItypedaquicktextmessagetoSamBrennan.ThefirsttimeI’devercontactedhim.IaskedSailorforhisspecialaccesscodeshortlyafterI’dbeenhiredbytheArrowsmiths,knowingthereweresomethingsIsimplywasn’tequippedtodo.Oncethemessagehadbeensent,read,andrepliedto,Ilookedupandsmiledatthelittleboy.
“Hey,Tin-Tin,feellikebakingsomecookiesathomewhilewatchingPeterPan?”
“S-Suredo!”
IstuffedhimintohisboosterinmyTeslawithburningeyesandheadedtotheArrowsmithresidencyfortheverylasttime.
ThecookiesweregoingtobealmostasbadasthemealI’dtriedtocookCillianonourfirst“date.”
IknewthatwhenItoreopentheready-mademixwithoutbotheringtoreadtheinstructions.Idumpedthepowderintoabowlandgrabbedtheingredientsonthepackagehurriedly.TinderprotestedwhenIdidn’ttakethetimetodoeverythingtogetherwithhim—cracktheeggs,measurethemilk,counteachdropofvanilla.Ikeptglancingattheoverheadclock,waitingforthedoorbelltoring,feelinglikeacriminal.Iwasacriminal.WhatIwasabouttodowasagainstthelaw.Butitwasn’tjustaboutsavingmyhusband’scompany—itwasalsoaboutTinder.
Wescoopedunevenballsontoapan,shovingitintotheovenbeforeitreachedtherighttemperature.Tinder’sirritationmorphedintoconfusion.I’dalwaysbeentheonepersonhecouldcountonforpatience.
“W-What’shappening?”Hefrowned.“I-Idon’tlikedoingeverythingquickly.Areyougoinganywhere?”
“NotbeforeImakesureyou’reokay,”Imuttered,franticallythrowingabagofpopcornintothemicrowave.IputPeterPanonDisneyPlusandsatTin-Tininfrontofthemoviewithhispopcornandjuice.
“I’mgoingtobealittlebusyinthenextfewminutes,okay?ButwhenI’mdone,we’llsitdownwithcookiesandsomechocolatemilkandwe’llhaveatalk.Ineedtotellyouafewthings.Don’tworry,youarenotintrouble.”
Buthisfathersurewas.
WhenSamknockedonthedoor,Ijerkedhiminsideatthespeedoflight.Hewaswearingablackdressshirt,jeans,andhisusualno-bullshitfrown.
“Hislaptopisprobablygoingtobepasswordprotected,”Iwarned,stillholdingthedoorjamb,myheartinmythroat.
Ineverbrokethelaw.Ever.Foranythingoranyone.Hell,Ididn’tevenjaywalk.Myobsessionwithmyhusbandwasturningmeinsideout.
Sampassedthelivingroom,notsparingtheyoungboyalook,andascendedthestairs.Ifollowedhim,pointingatAndrew’sstudy.Heslippedapairofelasticgloveson,producedafoldabledoorlockopenerfromhisbackpack,andopenedthelockeddooreffortlessly.
Webothenteredtheroom.IwashyperawareofTindersittinginfrontoftheTVdownstairs,waitingforme.Guiltwreckedme.Iwasgoingtoturnhislifeupsidedown,andeventhoughIknewitwastherightthingtodo,consideringhisabusivefather,IalsoknewTindermightneverforgiveme.
“SoKillwasright,”Samsaidtonelessly,poweringupthelaptopashetookaseatinAndrew’schair.Hisfingerswereglidingonthekeyboard.HeshovedaUSBdriveintothedevice.“You’renotcompletelyuseless,afterall.”
“Youdon’tthinkveryhighlyofwomen,huh?”Iturnedoutside,tothehallway,craningmynecktolookdownstairsandmakesureTinderwasokay.
“Ithoughtyouwereagold-digger,”Samsaidbluntly,clickingawayonthelaptop,hiseyesgluedtothescreen.“Shit,there’salotofstuffinhiscloud.Amateurmistake.”
“Copyeverything.Iwanttosortthroughallofit,”Iinstructedhim,standingatthedoor,returningtoourinitialconversation.“AndI’mnotagold-digger.”
“Noshit.”Hechuckled.“You’reriskingyourasshere.Youknowthat,right?Youcangetalotofjailtimeforwhatyou’redoing.”
“Really?”Iwidenedmyeyescomically.“Ihadnoidea.Dumbitdownforme.What’sjail?Theonewiththebars,right?IthinkI’veseenamovie.”
Sam’seyesdriftedfromthescreentome.Hesmirked.
“Sothat’swhyhekeptyouallthistime.Youtalkback.”
Iglancedthroughthewindow,huggingmymidriff,speculatingwhetherAndrew’shousewaswiredlikeCillian’sornot.
“Thecoastwasclear.”Samreadmythoughts.“Thehouseiswired,buttheidiot’scamerashavecrappystreetviewduetoovergrowntrees.Apparently,hisconsciencewouldn’tlethimtrimthefuckers.”
Hestood,handingmeadisc-on-key.
WhenIreachedforit,hetilteditawayfrommyreach.
“Yousureyoudon’twantmetogothroughitmyself?That’salotofdata.Youcan’tmessitup.”
“Iwilldoathoroughjob.”
“Letmemakeacopyformyself.Justincase.”
“Ifyoumakeyourselfacopy,I’mgoingtomakesureyouloseyourjobwiththeFitzpatricks.”Itiltedmychinupwarningly.“TheremaybesomeprivatethingsinthereIdon’twantanyonetosee.”
“Likeasextape?”
Men
“Sure.”
SamBrennanwasahandsomeman.ThensowasTedBundy.Ididn’tfindhimattractive,especiallyseeingashisweeklybodycountsurpassedTedBundy’sentirecareer.Ihonestlycouldn’tseewhatAisling’sfascinationwaswithhim.Thenagain,thesamecouldprobablybesaidaboutKillandme.
“Youdounderstandtheconceptofanarrangedmarriage,correct?Nothingaboutwhatyouhavewithyourhusbandisreal.”
“Samuel,”Iusedhisgivenname,mytonehaughty,asIdidwhenoneofmystudentswasmisbehaving,“givemetheflashdrive,please.”
Hetuckeditintomydresspocket,laughingsoftly.
“Ididn’tgetitatfirst.”Hedippedhisheaddown,scanningmyface.“IthoughthewantedEmmabelle.Everytimethethreeofyouwereinthesameroom,hiseyeswereonher.ButthenIrealized,”hedroppedhisvoice,“thetimingwaspeculiar.See,KillalwayslookedatEmmabelleexactlyatthesametimeyoulookedathim.Hewantedtothrowyouoff.Tomakeyoujealous.ThefirstandlasthumanthingI’deverseenhimdo.”
Samtookastepback,lookingaroundtheroom.
“I’llrelockthestudy.Andrewwillneverknowwe’vebeeninhere.Proceedasnormalwhentheygethere.”
Heturnedaround,tappingthedoorframe.
Theovendingeddownstairs,andIheardTin-Tinyelpingindelight.
Wewererunningoutoftime.
IthoughtSamwasgoingtosaysomepartingwords.
Aboutmyboldmove.
AbouttheriskI’dtakenformyhusband.
ButthatwouldimplySamBrennanwasimpressed.
AndiftherewassomethingIknewwitheveryboneinmybody,itwasthat,unfortunatelyforAisling,myfriend,woman-haterSamBrennanwouldneverbeimpressedbytheothersex.
“I’llbegoingawayaftertoday,butthingsareabouttochangehere.Ithoughtyoushouldknow.”IsatTinderdowninfrontoftheburnt,disfiguredcookies.Neitherofustouchedthesweets.HisbigbrowneyesclungtomelikeIwasalifeline.
“C-Changehow?”
“Yourfatherisnottreatingyouwell.Heshouldn’tdothethingsheisdoing,andIcannot—willnot—beabletobehereallthetimetoprotectyou.TherewillcomeadaywhenyougrowupandmakeyourmindupaboutwhatI’mabouttodo.Youwilleitherhatemeorappreciateme.”Ishookmyhead,feelingthetearswellingupinmyeyes,butheldmyselfback.Tinderdeservedmore.Hedeservedmycomposureandreassurance.Hedeservedtheworld.“Howeveryouchoosetofeelaboutme,Iwillacceptandrespectit.IthinkI’mgoingtoputyourdaddyinalotoftroublesoon,butyouwillstillhaveyourmommyandyourbrother,andthey’retheimportantpart,youhearme?They’rethepartIwantyoutofocuson.”
Henoddedslowly,takingitallin.Itwasalot.EvenIwasn’tsureifIfullygraspedwhatIwasabouttodo.IdroppedmyforeheadtoTinder’s,breathinghimin.IfIinhaledreallydeeply,Icouldstilldetectitfaintly.Thatelusivebabysmellthatmademybonesmelt.
“HaveIevertoldyouaboutTheWishCloud,Tin-Tin?”
Heshookhishead.
“I’mabouttogiftyouonewish.Somethingtoremembermeby.Butyou’llhavetochooseyourwishcarefully.Youonlygetone.Andyoucanonlycashinonthewishwhenyouseealonecloudinanotherwiseclearsky.”
“IknowwhatI’llch-ch-choose,AuntiePersy,”hesaid,smiling.“I’llchoosewhatIalwayschoose.I’llchooseyou.”
Twohourslater,therestofthefamilyreturnedfromthecharityevent.Istoodfromthecouchandwalkedovertotheentrance.AssoonasAndrewwalkedthroughthedoor,Ipointedathimwithmyfinger,myexpressionverypossiblymanic.
Joellebackedaway,stumblingwithagasp.Treelookedbackandforthbetweenhisfatherandme.
“What’sgoingon?”Theyoungboysniffed.
“IknowwhatyoudidtoTinder,”IwhisperedtoAndrew.“Ineedtotalktoyoutwo.Alone.”
Andrew’seyeszonedinonmine,hisnostrilsflaring.
“Tree,takeyourbrotherandgouptoyourroom,”heinstructed.Theboysboltedupthestairs.Andrewopenedhismouth,butIheldmyhandup.Wewerestillstandingatthedoorway.
“Saveit.Iknowabouttheruler.Aboutthebeatings.HowyoupushedJoellefromtherailings.”
Joelleshriekedbehindherhusband,coveringherfaceinherhandsandsobbing.Hercarefullystagedworldwascollapsing.
“IknowaboutCillian,”Ifinishedsoftly.Iwasmostlybluffingbutknowingwithcertaintythatburnedinsidemethathedidtomyhusbandsomethingthatmadehimthewayhewas.Thatchangedhimbeyondrecognition.
Andrew’sfacepaled,hisjawslacking.“Hetoldyou?”
Icouldn’tbringmyselftolie,soIsmiledinwhatIhopedresembledconfidence,shrugging.
“Yoursecretisbecomingnotsosecretive.Doesn’tbodewellforyourroleasthechairmanofGreenLiving.Atanyrate,I’mheretotellyouthatwasthelasttimeyouhityourson.IamtakingthistoChildProtectiveServices.Sinceit’snotmyfirstrodeowithCPS,letmetellyouhowit’sgoingtoplayout.Iwillfileacomplaint,they’llvisityourhousewithintwenty-fourhourstocheckforthewellnessofyourchildren,andoncetheyfindsignsofneglectorabuse—whichtheywill,becauseTinderisphysicallyinjured—they’llremovethechildrentoafosterhomeandpresschargesagainstyou.”
Joellenearlychoked.
“SinceI’veworkedwithnumerousschoolsduringmyshortcareerandknowquiteafewCPSagents,IcanprobablyhelpJoellegetfullcustodysinceshewasn’tcomplicitintheabuse.Now,asforyou—”IturnedtoJoelle,whobuckledwithherbackagainstthewall,cryingonthefloor.Herfacewaswetwithsweat,tears,andsnot.
“Youshouldputyourchildrenaboveallelse.Always.”
“Idid.”Joellegrabbedaholdofmydress,tuggingatitdesperately.“Ido!DoyouthinkIlikedwhathedid?Doyouthinkit’smyfault?Ihadnoideaitwasgoingtobethisway.Iwouldhavenevermarriedhim,Persy.Ever.”
Ididn’tthinkitwasherfault.Shewasn’ttheabusiveparty.Ifanything,shewasavictim,too.ButIknewherchildrenmightnotseeitthatway.Theymightgrowuptoresentthewomanwhoclungontheirfather’sarmwithabigsmileonherface,knowingwhathedidbehindcloseddoors.
“Doesn’tmatterwhatyouthought.It’stimeyoutakeresponsibilityandstepawayfromthistoxicrelationship.Putyouandthetwinsfirst.Considerthismyofficialresignation.Oh,andAndrew?Dropthelawsuitagainstmyhusband.You’lleitherhavetoresignorgetfiredwithinthenextfewdays,andyouhavebiggerlegalfishtofry.”
Igrabbedmykeysandbag,glancingbehindmyshoulder.WhatIsawbrokemyheart.TinderandTreewerehuddledtogetheronthelaststepofthestairway,gapingatmewithtearsintheireyes.
Ibrokedown,fallingtomyknees,lettingallthetearsIkeptatbayloose.Startingthisjob,IknewI’dgetattached,butIneverthoughtIwasgoingtolovethemsofiercely.
“Comehere,boys.”Iopenedmyarms.
Theyrantome,yelping.Asalways,Ifellbackfromthemomentum,fromthestormoftheirembrace,allowingthemtoburytheirheadsinmyshoulders,cryingalongwiththem.
Laterthatnight,Isiftedthroughthematerialonthedisc-on-keySamgaveme.
IttookmethreehoursandtwoglassesofwinetofindthefileI’dbeenlookingfor.Itwassimplynamed.CFF.
CillianFrancesFitzpatrick.
Idouble-clickedit,downedthewine,andsaidaprayer.
Ididn’tknowwhatIwasinfor.
IjustknewIwasn’treadyforthis.ThePast.
ThefirsttimeIsteppedintoajuveniletreatmentclinicwasatagefourteen.
Earlierthatweek,Ibeatmyselfupsobad,Iwasstillpissingbloodandspittingteeth.Myfacewassoswollen,ittookthreeofmypeerstorecognizewhoIwaswhentheyfoundmeonthelibraryfloor.
MymotheraccompaniedmeintotheSwissclinic.Reluctantly.Iwascoveredinacoat,hat,andsunglassestohidemybatteredfigure,likeaD-listcelebrityzippingthroughanairport,tryingtoremainunidentified.MotherremainedsilentmostoftheplanejourneyfromEnglandtoZurich,saveforabriefconversation,whisperedafterthestewardesseswereoutofearshot.
“Yourfathercan’tknow.”
Thatwasthefirstthingshesaid.
Nothowyouaredoing.
How’dithappen.
Yourfathercan’tknow.
Istayedquiet.Therewas,afterall,nothingtosay.Shewasright.Athaircouldn’tknow.Andatanyrate,therewasnowaytoexplainwhathadhappened.OnesecondIwassittinginfrontofmytextbooksinthelibrary,studyingmyassofftofinishfirstinclassasalways,thefamiliarweirdpressure—anintangibletensionIcouldn’texplain—skulkingupmyspinelikeaspider,andtheother,Iwasonthefloor,beatentoapulp,notsurewhodidit.
NowIknewwhothatpersonwas.
Itwasme
Ibeatmyselfuptoapointofunconsciousness.
“CillianFrances,didyouhearme?”Motherlinkedherfingerstogetheroverherlap,facerigid,postureperfect.
“Loudandclear.”Ilookedoutthewindowatthepassingclouds.
“Good.”Shefrownedataninvisiblespotonthecockpitdoor.“Hewillblameitonme,somehow.Healwaysdoes,youknow?Icannevercatchabreakwiththisman.”
Mymotherwasn’tabadperson.Butshewasweak.Convenient.Nowmorethanever,havinggivenbirthtomysibling,Hunter,lessthanthreeyearsago.
Thenewbabyhadputastrainonmyparents’marriage.WhenIcameforavisitduringthesummer,they’dbarelyspokenawordtoeachother.WhenmymotheraskedifIwantedtoholdmybrother,myinitialreactionhadbeenhellno,butthenshegavemethatsheepish,poor-melook,andadded,“Yourfatherneverholdshim.”
SoI’dheldhim.Lookeddownatthetiny,old-lookingbaldpersonwhostaredbackatmewithbigblueeyesthatlookednothinglikemineandtoldhim,“Buckleup,littlebro.Youweredefinitelybornintooneheckofafamily.”
“Anyway,”Motherchimedagainontheplane,rearrangingherpearlnecklace,“IhopethishasnothingtodowithAndrewArrowsmith.Youwon’tbeseeingmuchofhimanymoreoutsideofEvon.”
“Ihaven’theardorseenhimsinceAthairfiredhisdad,”Iadmittedinavainattempttotrytogetsomeinfo.
“Hisfatherwouldn’thavebeenfiredifhewasn’tacrook,”Motherhuffed
“Idon’tcareabouthisfather.”
“We’llseeifhefinisheshisstudiesatEvon,”shecontinued,ignoringmywords.I’doftenwonderedwhyIbotheredansweringheratall.“Yourfatherissuinghimforeverythinghestole.”
“Theyusedtogogolfingtogether.Takeannualvacations.VisitcasinosinEurope.Gofishing,”Isaid,leavingouttheescorts,stripclubs,andundergroundjointsthey’dpromisedtotakeAndrewandmetowhenwewereolder.
Sherolledhereyes.“Don’tbena?ve,Cillian.PeoplewilldoanythingtogetclosetousFitzpatricks.Wecan’thaverealfriendships.”
Motherdroppedmeoffattheclinicassoonaswelanded,signedthepaperwork,andtoldmeshe’dcometopickmeupinafewhours.
“Iwouldstay,”shesighed,“butyouknowhowjitteryIgetinclinics.They’renotmyscene.Besides,Ihavesomeshoppingtodo.Youunderstand,don’tyou,Kill?”Shepinchedmycheeks.Isteppedaway,turnedaround,andleftwithoutaword.
Anurseledmetoawhitesmallroomwithadeskandachair.Shelockedthedoorbehindme.Isatdown,lookingupatasecuritycamerathatwastrainedonme.Iwasobviouslybeingwatched.
Theykeptmelikethisfortwentyminutesorsobeforeamalevoicesoundedbehindatwo-waymirror.
“Hithere,Cillian.”
“Hello.”
Iwasn’tafraid.Iwasextremelyadaptable.Camewiththeterritoryofgrowingupinthehandsofaupairsandattendingprivateschoolsawayfromhomefromagesix.
“How’reyoufeeling?”
“Beenbetter.Beenworse.”Icrossedmylegs,makingmyselfcomfortable.
“That’sinteresting,”thedoctorsaid.Itwasn’t,really,butIappreciatedhissympathy,whetheritwasgenuineornot.ItwasmorethanI’dreceivedfrommyownmother,oftentimes.
“Doyouknowwhyyou’rehere?”thepleasantvoiceasked.
“I’mguessingit’sbecauseIhaveathingcalledtheTourette’ssyndrome.”Islouchedbackinthechair,takinginallthewhiteness.Thecalmnessofitpleasedme.Alongsilencestretchedfromtheothersideofthewindow.“Howlonghaveyouknown?”
“Aboutaweek.”
Iheardpagesflippingonaclipboardfromtheotherside.Ismiledgrimly.Normally,itwasthepatientwhowasinthedark.
“Howcanitbe?Itsayshereyourticattacktookplacetwodaysago,”anothervoicesaid.Amiddle-agedfemalewasmyguess.Bothdoctorshadaccents.OnewasprobablyItalian,andtheotherSwissfromtheFrenchborder.
“Yes,”Isaidslowly,givingthemtimetofillintheircharts.“ButI’vebeenfeelingthetensionoftheattackinthedaysbeforebuildingup,soIdidsomeresearch.”
“Soyouknewyouweregoingtogetit?”thewomanSwissdoctoraskedincredulously.“Theattack.”
Inoddedcurtly.Shegasped.Sheactuallygasped
“Poorthing,”shesaid.Veryun-doctor-like.
“Neverbeenaccusedofbeingthatbefore,”Imuttered,checkingmywatchforthetime.
“Whereareyourparents?”thefemaledoctorasked,hervoicegrowingcloser.Weretheygoingtoopenthedoorbetweenourrooms?Ihopednot.Eyecontactwasn’tmyfavorite.
“MyfatherisinBoston,handlingthefamilybusiness,andmymotherisshopping.Zurichisoneofherfavoriteretailspots.”
KnowingMother,shewasgoingtopickmeupwithbagsfullofnewshoes,cufflinks,andsummerclothesforme.Herversionofbeingmaternal.
“Whydidn’tyoutellanyone?”themaledoctorasked.“AbouttheTourette’ssyndrome.”
“Whatwasthepoint?”Ibrushedmydresspantsfromlint.“Knowingmyfamily,wewillbekeepingmyconditionunderwraps.Soeitheryouprescribemewithshit,trynewtreatmentonme,orletmego.I’llfigureoutawaytohideit.”
“It’saneurologicaldisorder,”thefemaledoctorexplained,hervoiceturningevensofter.“Causedbyanarrayofverycomplexthings,mostlybecauseofabnormalitiesincertainbrainregions.Theticswillcomeandgo,andeventhoughwecanoffersometreatmentstorelieveandeasethedisorder,itismostlyheretostay.Youcan’tcontrolit.TheverydefinitionofTourette’sisthatyourticsareinvoluntarily.Youcannottrainyournerves.Theyareeverywhereinyourbody.Tonumbthem,youwillhavetostopfeelingcompletely.”
Perfect
“Thenitisvoluntary.”Istood,headingforthedoor.
“No,”thedoctorhesitated.“Foryoutostopthetics,you’llhavetostopfeeling.Idon’tthinkyouunderstand—”
“Iunderstandeverything.”Icurledmyfist,knockingonthedoorthreetimes,signalingthenurseIwantedtogetout.
“Mr.Fitzpatrick—”
Ididn’tanswer.
IgotwhatIcameherefor.
Asolution.
NowallIneededwaspractice.
OperationCancelFeelingsdidnotgetofftoasmoothstartwhenIcamebacktoEngland.
Tobeginwith,Iwasn’tbigonfeelings.ThatwasnottosayIhadn’tfeltany.Iwascapableofbeingsad,happy,hungry,amused,andjealous.Ihatedalotofpeople—certainlymorethanaboymyageshould—andevenlovedalittle.
Mainlymybabybrother,whohadtheadvantageofnotbeingabletotalkback,hencenotbeingabletopissmeoff.ButIalsolovedotherthings.PoloandChristmasandstickingmytongueoutwhenitrained.Thealluringtasteofwinter.
IalsolikedmyfriendshipwithAndrewArrowsmith.Alot.
NotinthesamewayIlikedgirls.Thewaytheymovedandsmelledandexisted,whichIfoundbothmagicalandconfusing.IknewIwasonehundredpercentstraight.IlikedAndybecausehegotme.BecausewewerethetwokidswiththeBostonaccentswhodideverythingtogether.Westudiedandhungoutandwatchedmoviesandshowsandplayedthesamesports.Wepulleddangerousprankstogether.Wefartedandblameditonhisdogsduringdinnertime.Wewatchedourfirstpornotogether,andfoughtoverfootball,andranawayfromthecopsthatonetimewhenweaccidentallysetatrashcaninthecountryclubonfire…
Wewerebeingkidsandsharedwhateverchildhoodourparentsallowedustohavetogether.
HewastheclosestthingtofamilyI’dhad.WhichwaswhyIwasfuriouswithAndrewSeniorforstealingmoneyfromRoyalPipelines,andwithmyownfatherforfindingout,andalsowithAthairforactingonthebetrayal.
Yes,Andy’sdadstolefromourcompany,butAndywasmylifeline.Couldn’tAthairletthisshitgo?
AfterweeksofnothearingorseeingAndyatEvon,Ifinallyranintohimatthemainchapel.Myreliefwasmixedwithdread.
Iwavedathimfromacrossthechapel.Therewasaswarmofstudentsbetweenus,andallofuswerewearingthesameuniform.Andrewnoticedmeandlookedaway.
Thetingeofpaininmychestalarmedme.Icouldn’taffordtofeel.Feelingswouldinspiremorenerveattacks,andnerveattackswouldmakeAthairdisownme.WhileItrulylikedbabyHunter,Ididn’twanttoseehimsnaggingtheeldestson’stitleastheheirtoRoyalPipelines.
Nottomention,Athair,Mother,andHunterweretheonlyfamilyIhadleft,nowthatAndyprobablyhatedmyguts.
IstrodeacrossthelawnafterSundayMass,handsclaspedbehindmyback,frowningatthelushgrass.Ididn’tevencaremuchthatIhadTourette’s.Itwasinconvenient,forsure,butaftergulpingdownafewmedicaljournalsandacoupleofbooksaboutthesyndrome,I’ddecidedIwouldovercomeitbeforegraduatingandmovingontocollege.
AndwhenIdecidedsomething,Ineverfailed,nomatterthemeansittooktoachieveit.
Thebackofmynecksearedwithsuddenpain.Istopped,bringingmyhandtorubatit.Itfeltwarmandsleek.Iwithdrewmypalm,glancingatit.Itwasfullofblood.Iturnedaround.Andrewstrodetowardmewithsomeofhisfriends,tossingarockinhishand.
Hegrinned.
“Whatthefuck,Arrowsmith?”
“Thefuckisyourfatherisajealousasshole,andmymatesheretoldmethatyou’reafreak.Iheardaboutthelibraryaccident.”
Ifiguredhewould.Istraightenedmyposture,remindingmyselfthattherewasnoneedtowasteanyfeelingsoverthisnonsense.Hewasn’tthefirstpersontoleave.Hewasn’tgoingtobethelast,either.
“Yeah?Well,Ih-h-heardyourda-da-dadstolemoneytopayyourwaythroughEvon.Shortonmoney,Arrowsmith?”Ipunchedmyownfaceoutofnowhere.
Whatthefuck?
Andrew’seyesgleamedasheadvancedtowardme,pickingupspeed.Hisfriendsfollowedsuit.
“Oh,man,you’restutteringnow!”
“I’mnotstuttering.”Iletoutalowgrowl,slappingmyownfaceagain.
No.No.No.
Iwasn’tinanemptylibrarythistime.Ihadanaudience,andtheywerewatching,laughing,gettingaglimpseofthefreakshow.Ihadtostop.
Stopfeeling.
Stopwanting.
Stophurtingrightnow.
“Thegoodthing”—Andrewstoppedonlywhenhewasnexttome—“isthatI’mnotaFitzpatrick.AnArrowsmithalwayscomestohisfriend’srescue.Andyouneedtoberescued,don’tyou,Kill?”
Hisfriendslaughed,handstuckedinsidetheirpockets,glaringatme,waitingforthewordgo
Ilookedbehindme,slappingmyownfaceagain.Icouldprobablyrun,buttherewasnopoint.Theticsweregoingtoslowmedown,andanyway,I’dalwaysbeenfasteronahorsethanwithmyfeet.
Ilookedbackatthem.NowwasasgoodatimeasanytocheckthepainboxonmylistandmakesureIcouldn’tfeelit.
Andrewcrackedhisknucklesloudly.
Ididthesamething.
Notetoself:crackingone’sknucklesisverysoothing.
“I’mabouttofuckyouruglyfaceupevenworsethanyoudid,Fitzy.”
Ismiled,feelingblissfullynumb.“Giveityourbestshot,OliverTwist.”
Andrewendedupfilmingsomeofhisabuse,probablytostashitandremindhimselfithappened.
Buthewasn’tanidiotandwascarefultonevershowhisface.
Itwasoneoftheverythingswe’dbeentaught.Neverfilmanythingincriminating.TheinfamousBullingdonClubhadcostOxfordUniversityenoughembarrassment,andnobodyatfineBritishinstitutionswantedtheirreputationtobestainedbyabunchofteenagedirtbags.
Theabusewasn’tone-sided.
Infact,duringourfirstfight,I’dnoticedwhenAndrewbeatmeup,Istoppedfeeling.Theticshadstopped.Andso,IsoughtAndrewout.Wenttohisroomonaweeklybasis.Goadedhimintofighting,abusing,andmessingwithme.
Andrewtookover.Wecrossedthelinesmanytimes.
Brokenbones.Permanentscars.Cigaretteburns.
Igrewstrongerandmoreindifferenteachtime.
Andhe?Hecriedwhenhedidthosethingstome.Criedlikeababy.
Goingthroughthetrialsandtribulationsofbeingbullied—burned,waterboarded,slappedacrossthefaceeachtimeIstutteredorhitmyself,eachtimeItwitched—provedtobehighlyeffective.
Byfifteen,theyearwhenI’dfoundoutAndrewArrowsmithwasn’tgoingtocompletehiseducationatEvon,Iwasfreeofsymptoms.
Outwardly,anyway.
Istillpoppedmyknuckles.
Stillbreatheddeepandslowtolowermyheartrate.
Stillresistedanytypeoffeelings,smashingthemwhenevertheytriedtoriseabovethesurface.
ThemoreIcontrolledthetics,theworsetheyhadbecome.Fortunately,IalwaysunleashedthemwhenIwasintheprivacyofmyroom.
Ikicked,screamed,hitmyself,brokewalls,torefurniture,anddevastatedeverythingaroundme.ButIdiditonmyterms,andonlywhenIfeltIwasready.ThatwashowsuccessfullyImanagedtosuppressmyemotions.
Untiloneday,theticsstoppedcompletely.
FeelingsweresofarawayfrommyrealmofexistencethatIdidn’thavetoworryanymore.
Butthetapeswerestilloutthere,andAndrewhadthem.
Liketheoneofmelyinginapuddleofmyownvomit.
OrtheonewhereIsatatthebottomofthepoolforaminuteatatimeuntilIwasblue.EverytimeImiscalculatedthetimeandrosetothesurfacetooquickly,he’dstrikeme.
Onethingwasforsure:Andrewwantedrevenge,Iwantedcompletecontrol,andwebothgotwhatwewanted.
Bythetimewepartedways,hisjobwasdone,andsowasmine.
Ithoughtwewereeven.
Ithoughtwebothgotwhatwedeserved.
IthoughtIwasimmunetofeelingseveragain.
Turnedout,everysingleoneofthoseassumptionswaswrong.
ThethirdtimeIrantothebathroomtothrowup,Ithrewinthetowelandshutmylaptop,stashingitundermybed,likethevideoscouldhauntme.Ihadenoughofseeingmyhusband—thenateenager—abused.
Beaten.
Smashed.
Broken.
Stuttering.
Crying.
Laughing.
Losingit.
Findingit.
IwantedtokillAndrewArrowsmithwithmyownhands.
AndknewwithaconfidencethatfrightenedmethatIwascapableofdoingthat,too,giventheopportunity.
Andrew’sfacewasn’tonthetapes.Buthisvoicewasthere.Sowerehismotivestodowhathedid.
Atsixthirtyinthemorning,Irosetomyfeetandwalkedovertotheshower.Myeyeswerepuffyfromcryingallnight.
ThereweretwothingsIknewwithoutashadowofadoubt:
One—IwasgoingtomakesureArrowsmithwasruined,evenifitwasthelastthingIdidinmylife.
Two—Cillianwastrulyincapableoffeelinganythingaftereverythinghe’dbeenthrough.Buteventheunlovingdeservedtobeloved.Evenhedeservedpeace,belonging,andahome.
Fromnowon,Iwasgoingtolethimhavemeonhisterms.
Evenifitslayedmybleedingheart.“Sir,youhaveavisitor.”
Ididn’tlookupfromthescreen,stilltypingoutamessagetomylegalteamregardingGreenLiving.
“Doyouhaveeyes,Serena?”
“Sophia,”shecorrectedmildlyasthoughthemistakewasherfault.“Ido,sir.”
“ThenIsuggestyoumakeuseofthemandlookatmyplanner.Itiswideopenforareason.Idonotacceptvisitorsatthistime.”
Shewasstillstandingonmythreshold,wonderinghowtoapproachhernewboss.Attimes,Iwascertainthedefinitionofhellwasnewpersonalassistantsgoingthroughorientation.Sophianeededtobespoon-fedeverything,andheronlysavinggracewasthat,unlikeMs.Brandt,shewasn’taworld-classbitchwholookedlikeahalf-meltedBarbie
“It’syourwife.”Shephysicallycringed,bracingherselfforaverbalwhipping.
IresistedtheurgetolookupfrommylaptopandstealaglanceatFlowerGirlthroughtheglasswall.
TotellSophiatoletherin.
Nothinggoodwasgoingtocomeoutofthis.
Shewasprobablyheretogivemethethirddegreeaboutthreateningherex-husbandatgunpoint.OrmaybeshefinallyrealizedhowmuchofafuckupIamanddecidedtohelpAndrewwithhislawsuit.Totestify.
Mywifeknewmysecret.
SamhadtoldmeaboutherlittlestintatAndrewArrowsmith’splaceassoonashewalkedoutmyenemy’sdoor.IknewPersephonehadseenthevideos.
Shehadnoright.
Norighttobuttintomybusiness.NorighttouncoverwhatIwantedtokeepasecret.NorighttopeeloffthelayersI’drefusedtoshedwhenshetriedtheniceway.
“Turnheraway,”Iordered,myeyesstillonmymonitor.
“I’mafraidshecan’tandwon’tdothat.Also,don’ttakethattonewithher.Sheisyourassistant,notyourservant.”Iheardathroaty,sweetvoicefromthedoorway.Thistime,Ididlookup.
FlowerGirlstoodatthedoorway.Sheworeasunnydressandasternlook.Iwantedtotakebothofthemoffher.
“You’vefiredMs.Brandt.”SheclosedthedooronSophia,steppingintomyoffice.“Why?”
“That’snotanyofyourbusiness.”Iclosedthelaptop.
“Tryagain.”Shecrossedherarmsoverherchest.
“Becauseyouhatedher,”Ispatout,disgustedwithmyself.
Shesmiled.
Idiedalittleinside.
Oh,howthemightyhavefallen.
Istood,gatheringthepaperworkonmydesktokeepmytraitorouseyesfromwanderingherway.Watchingmywifewasakintowatchingthesun.Theeuphoric,blindingnotionyouwerebothimmortalandpatheticallyhumangrabbingyoubythethroat.
“Isupposeyou’reherebecauseyourex-husbandhasdumpedyouagain.AmItheconsolationprize?”Istuffedmypaperworkintomybriefcase,itchingtogosomewhere—anywhere—thatwasfarawayfromthiswoman.
Thepressuresignalinganimpendingattackpressedagainstmysternum.Everytimeshewalkedintotheroom,Ihadtoregainmycontrol.
“Youknewhewasintown?”Herpeacockblueeyesfollowedmeintently.
“Yoursecuritycameras,”Ipointedout,incasesheplannedonaccusingmeofslappingherwithmoreprivateinvestigators.
Shestalkedinmydirection.
“Ithrewhimoutthenightheshowedup.You’dhaveknownthatifyou’dbotheredtoansweranyofmycallsoractuallygothroughthepainofgivingmethetimeofthedaywhenItriedtovisityouatyourhouse.”
Yourhouse.
Ofcourseitwasmyhouse.
Whywoulditbeours?I’dpluckedheroutoftheclinicalapartmentI’dputherin,stuckherinoneoftheguestrooms,andexpectedherto…what?Formanysortofattachmenttotheplace?
“Wouldyoulikeaprizeforremainingfaithful?”Iarchedaneyebrow.Shestoppedrightinfrontofme.Herscentwaseverywhereintheroom,drowningmysenses,andIwantedtograbherbytheshouldersandshakeher.Kickherout,kissher,fuckher,yellather.Allthesepossibilitiesexhibitedbothemotionandcompletelackofcontrol.
“Samtoldyou,didn’the?”Shetiltedherhead,examiningme.ShemeantAndrewArrowsmith’slaptop.Thetapesshemusthavewatched.
“Heisonmypayroll.”
“Soistherestofthecity.”
“Youincluded,sodoyourselfafavorandstopsniffingaroundmybusinessbeforeIcutyouoff.”
“WebothknowI’mnothereforthemoney.Now,IwanttotalkaboutwhatI’velearned.”
Shetreadedcarefullyintotheconversation.
“No,”Isaidflatly.“Youhadnoright.”
“Hadnoright?”Shelaughedsadly.“I’myourwife,Kill.Whetheryouacceptitornot.Iwantedtohelpyou.That’swhyIdecidedtoworkforAndrewinthefirstplace.Toextractinformation.Togetaglimpseintohismostintimateplace.Iknewtherewastoomuchridingonthisoperation,andthatyou’dtrytostopmebecauseyou’retoorighteoustoacceptyouneededmyhelp.”
“Yourjobisnottosaveme.”
“Why?”Sheparkedahandonherwaist.“Whyisn’titmyjobtosaveyou?I’velostcountofthetimesyou’vesavedme.YousavedmefromByrneandKaminski,fromahorse,fromapoisonousflower,frommyex-husband.Thelistgoesonandon.Whyisitokayforyoutogiveupyourentireexistencefortheworld,toputyourfather’sneedsbeforeyours,towalkthroughfireforthepeopleyoucareabout,butIcan’tdoyouthisonesolid?”
“Becauseyoudidn’taccomplishanything!”Iboomedinherface,baringmyteeth.“Youprettylittleidiot,thevideosyoufoundwon’tholdupincourt.Theyarenotlegalevidence.They’restolen,andprobablyfuzzy,anddon’tcapturehisface.You’veworkedfornothing.”
Thefrustrationofknowingshe’dseenmeatmyworst,andfornogoodreasonatall,maddenedme.Igrabbedmywife’sarms.“Yourlittlestuntdidnothingmorethanputanotherten-footdentinourmarriage,which,bytheway,wastheworstmistakeofmylife.”
ThewordsflewoutbeforeIcouldstopthem.I’dheardofpeoplesayingthingstheydidn’tmeanwhileangrybuthadneverexperienceditbecause,well,Iwasneverangry.Thiswasanunwelcome,humanizingfirst.Mywife’sblueeyesglitteredwithrage.Iwantedtoapologizebutknewthattheentirefloorwaswatchingthroughmyglassofficewalls,andthatanapologywouldachievenothing.
Weweredone.
Iwasfaulty.Brokenbeyondrepair,andshewasn’tgoingtostickaroundlongenoughtotrytofixme.
“Youdon’tknowwhatIfoundout,”shesaidquietly.
“Idon’tfuckingcare!”
Inmyperiphery,IcouldseeHuntermarchingfromhisofficetomine.Hewavedawaythecuriousaudienceformingoutsidemydoor,shootingmeapullittogetherlook.
I’dofficiallyhitrockbottom.Nothingsaidyouwereaworld-classlosermorethanHuntergoddamnFitzpatricktellingyoutochill.
IturnedmyattentionbacktoPersephone,loweringmyvoicebutstillfeelingthatundeniableshake.“NothingyoufoundonAndrew’slaptopcanhelpmewinthiscase.Theonlythingyoudidwasgivehimmoreammoonme.NowheisprobablytellingpeopleIsentmywifetosniffaroundhisworkandmadeherperformtwojobstotrytodigupsomedirtabouthim.Notonlydidyounothelpme,butyoualsoputyourselfatrisk,andI…”
That’swhereIstopped.Andwhat?
Persephoneslantedoneeyebrowup,studyingmewitheyessohungry,ifIhadaheart,itwouldbreakforher.Sheclearlywantedmetocare.
“Andyouwhat,hubs?”sheaskedsoftly.“WhatwouldhavehappenedhadAndrewdonesomethingtome?”
Aviolentshudderranthroughme.
Thewaterboarding.
Theburns.
Thebeatings.
Gettinglockedintheconfessionboothforhoursatatimeinadarkchurchwithonlymydemonstokeepmecompany.
Comingbacktohim,askinghimformore.Toatoneformyfather’ssins.Togrieveourfriendship.Tonumbmyfeelings.
Andjustlikethat,IrememberedwhoIwas.
WhoAndrewArrowsmithhadmademe.
Whomyfather—mywholefamily—expectedmetobe.
Agrimsmirkslashedmyfacelikeawound.Ileaneddown,mylipsbrushingmywife’sear,myhotbreathfanningherpalehair.
“AndIwishhe’dfinishedthejob,FlowerGirl,soIcouldfinallygoaheadandmarrysomeoneinmyownleague.Youwereamistake.Afoolish,hornymistake.Divorcecouldn’tcomefastenough.”
Ifelt,ratherthansawhertakeastepback.ThatwaswhenIrealizedI’dclosedmyeyeslikeapatheticmoron,inhalingher.
Withherheadtiltedupandherspinestiff,shepulledastackofpapersfromherbagandslammeditagainstmychest.
“Inthatcase,congratulations.You’veworkedreallyhardtoshowmeAndrewturnedyouintoaheartlessmonster.Consideryourselffreefromthismarriage.Here’syourpartinggiftfromme.AChildProtectiveServicereportdeemingAndrewadangerous,unfitfather.Thoughtitmightbeofinteresttoyou,sincehe’slostcustodyofhischildren,andwillbelosinghisjobnext.”
Shetookaraggedbreaththatshookherentiretinybody.
“Iloveyou,CillianFitzpatrick.I’vealwayslovedyou.FromthemomentwefirstmetatthecharityballwhenIspottedyouacrosstheroom.Youwereagodamongmortals.Vitalyetdead.Andwhenyoulookedatme—whenyoulookedpastme—Isawmywholefutureinyoureyes.Iknewyouwererich,andhandsome,andpowerful.YettheonlythingItrulyeverwantedfromyou,Kill,wasyou.Topeeloffthelayers,shedthemwithmyfingernails,andhaveyou,andloveyou,andsaveyou.IthoughtIcouldchangeyou.AndItried.Ireallydid.ButIcannotchangesomeonewhodoesn’twanttochange.Iloveyou,butIloveme,too.AndIdeservemorethanyou’vegivenme.Morethanyouarewillingtopartwayswith.SoI’msavingyouthisonetime,forallthetimesyousavedme,andsayinggoodbye.”
Sherosetohertiptoesandpressedacold,impersonalkissonmylips,hereyelashesbrushingagainstmynose.
“We’vealwaysbeensobadatrespectingeachother’sboundaries.Webrokeourcontractagainandagainandagain.Ifyouhaveashredofsympathyformeinthatcoldheartofyours,don’tcontactmeanymore.Nomatterwhathappens,nomatterhowmuchyouwanttotellmesomething,leavemealone.Ineedtimetodigest,tolickmywounds,tomoveon.Don’tshowupatmysister’shouse,oratmyworkplace,oranywhereImightbe.Letmegetoveryou.Myheartcan’ttakeanotherblow.”
Sheturnedaroundandwalkedaway.
Leavingmetostandwithmyget-out-of-jailmonopolycard,theperfectevidenceagainstAndrewArrowsmith,andmyheartinmythroat.
Itbeat,loudandfast.
Alive.
Angry.
Andfullofemotions.
Ratherthanextinguishingthefivehundredfireswreakinghavocinmylife,Ioptedtotakethecar,drivetotheclosestliquorstore,stockuponthecheapest,mostpunishingbrandofvodka—thetypecertaintogivemeahangoverfromhell—anddrivetotheranch.
Igotdrunkwithmyhorses(Ididallthedrinking;theyweretheretowatchmethroughthehalfdoorsoftheirstalls),withmyphoneturnedoff.FlowerGirlwasfinallydonewithme.Missionaccomplished.NowwhenIhadAndrew’sdownfallinmybackpocket,whenIknewhe’ddropthelawsuitthankstoher,allIwantedtodowasgodowninflamesrightalongwithhim.
Itookaswigfromthevodka,slouchingagainstthewallinthebarn,surroundedbyhorseshit.
Iclosedmyeyes.Asnippetofafewweeksagoplayedbehindmyeyelids.
OfPersephonepullingmetothelaundryroom—Ihadnoideawherethatroomwas,exactly,beforethatmoment—hoppingonaworkingwashingmachine,spreadingherthighsforme,andmoaningmynameasIfuckedherhard.
Iopenedmyeyes,rubbingatthem.Itwasdarkoutside.Imust’vepassedoutafewhoursagoandblackedout.
Excellent.Afewmoremonthsofthis,andIshouldbegoodtogobackintomypreviousstateofnumbness.
Yellowheadlightsshimmeredfromoutsidetheopendoorofthebarn.Tirescrunchedhayoutside.Someonewascoming.
Iletgooftheemptyvodkabottle,watchingasitrolledallthewaytoHamilton’sstall.Theassholealmostcostmeawife.Fucker
Theintruderkilledtheengine,flungthedriver’sdooropen,andsteppedout,thecrispsoundofleavesundertheirbootsgratingonmynerves.
“Kill?Areyouthere?”Hunter’sbaritonedemanded.Sincewhendidmybrotherturnintoanauthoritative,respectablefigure?
“No,”Igrowled,knowinghewasgoingtocomeinanyway.
Hedidjustthat,haltingatthedoortothebarnwithhishandsonhiships.
“Sailorhadthebaby.Ihaveadaughter.”
Iexpectedtofeelthereliefofhimnothavingason,atrueheir,someonetotakeoverRoyalPipelines,butallIfeltwasemptiness.Iknewnormalpeoplewouldbehappyfortheirbrother.Iwasn’tnormal.
“Congratulations,”Isaidmonotonously.“Arethemotheranddaughterhealthy?”
“Very.”
“Good.Iopenedatrustfundinyourchild’shonor.Threegrandamonthuntilcollege.”
“Thanks,butthat’snotwhyI’mhere.”Hetookastepinside,closingthedoorbehindhim.“SamfoundoutAndrewputPaxtonVeitchontheplanebacktoBoston.That’showhegothere.Arrowsmithwasobviouslytryingtostirshit.”
Paxtonwasnolongerathreat.
Hewasprobablyneverathreat.
TheonlypersonstandinginmywaytohavingPersephonePenrosewasme,andIdidahellofajobatkeepingusapart.
Iunscrewedanotherbottleofvodka.Mybladderwasscreamingatmetostopdrinking,butmybrainurgedmetokeepgoinguntiltheblissfulnumbnesswasrestored.
“Iknow,”Idrawled.“IgotitoutofPaxtonmyself.Apparently,I’mtheonlysonofabitcharoundqualifiedtogetshitdone.”
“Doubtit.”Huntersighed.
“Why?”
“Becauseyou’recurrentlytryingtoloosenthebottomofaliquorbottle.”
Mybrothergrabbedthevodkafrommyhand,turningitupsidedown.Itooktheopportunitytowobbletomyfeet.Iturnedaroundandtookapiss.Strictlyspeaking,pissinginmyhorsestablewasvandalizingmyownproperty.Thenagain,punishingmyselfseemedlikeagoodidea.
Iturnedbackaround.Ceannbeaghandedmethebottlesilently.Iglaredathim.Atallsixversionsofhim.
“ItookcareoftheArrowsmithproblem,”Isaidblandly.“Well,mywifedid.”
“That’snotwhyI’mhere,either.”
“Whyareyouhere?”Isquinted.“Gobewithyourfamily.”
Hunterhadafamilyofhisown.Arealfamily,shapedandmoldedbyhimandhiswife.Hiswasn’trottenfromtheinside,builtontheruinsofsocialstanding,oldmoney,andgreed.
“Iamwithmyfamily.”Hegrabbedthebottleinmyhand,throwingitasidewithafrown.“Withthefamilywhoneedsmerightnow.AndI’dverymuchliketogobacktotheoneI’vejustcreated,sowouldyoutellmewhatthefuckisgoingonwithyou?”
Izigzaggedtothedoor,flungitopen,andsteppedoutofthebarn.Huntergrunted,followingme.Itwasn’tlostonmethatthetableshadturned.Iwastheshitshowbrothernow,andhewastheresponsiblefamilyman.
“Shesavedmyass,”Isaidasmybrothertrackedmedownthedirtpathbacktothemaincabin.“Tutoringthatasshole’skids.Diggingupdirtonhim.Shediditforme.Allthistime,Ithoughtshewasjustgettingbackatmeforbeingcrueltoher.”
“Youcursed,”henoted.
Nofuckingshit,Sherlock.
Anditfelttoogoodtofuckingstop,dammit.
SinceTourette’ssyndromewasknownas“thatcursingdisorder,”I’dmadeitapointtoneverutteraswearword.Therewasnobetterwaytodistancemyselffromthestigma.Butprofanitywasnevermyproblem.I’dnevercursedduringmyattacks.
Atthatmoment,though,Ihadanacutecaseofnotgivingafuck.
Notgivingafuckifpeoplefoundout.
Notgivingafuckifcursingwasn’tproperorwell-mannered.
NotnobleenoughfortheheirofRoyalPipelines.
“Persy’sinlovewithyou,”hegrumbled,stillfollowingme.
“She’sinlovewiththeideaofme.”Manywomenwere.“Whatitcomesdowntoisthis,ceannbeag.Sheis,andalwayswillbe,awomanI’dboughtlikeasackofpotatoes.Shecamewithapricetag,likeallthewomenbeforeher.Andifyoucanbuyit,youcanreplaceit.I’llfindsomeoneelse.AndPersephone?She’llmarryagain,too.”
Hunterstopped.Isoldieredon,pastthecabin,towardmycar.Ineededtogetoverthislittleself-pityparty,drivebacktotheoffice,andstartputtingthingsinmotion.
Suddenly,Ifeltsomethingheavyanddampplasteredtomyback.Iturnedaround.Mybrotherhadthrownmanureonme.
“Whatthef—”
“Youasswipe!”Hecroucheddown,grabbinganotherballofmanureinthedark.I’dneverfoughtwithmyyoungerbrother.Andwe’ddefinitelyneverbeenphysical.Therewasnothingbrotherlyaboutus,otherthanthetitle.
Heknewit.
Iknewit.
Hunteraimed—andcaught—myshoulder.
“Stopit,”Igrowled,narrowingmyeyesathim.
Heignoredme,kneelingtograbmoremanure.Achildishzingofvengeancesparkedinsideme.IloweredmyselftograbasmuchmanureasIcouldfind.
“Shewasneverinlovewithyourpersona,assface.”Hunterswunghisarmbackward,likeabaseballplayer,andcaughtmeinthechest.Iaimedmyballofshittohisface,strikingagoodportionofhisneckandchin.
Nowwewerebothindeepshit.Literally
“Stalinhadamoreloveablecharacter,youmoron.Shewasalwaysstupidly—andmayIaddunreasonably—inlovewithyourass!”
Hethrewanotherballatme.
Ithrewonebackathim.
“Sheowedalotofmoney,”Iyelledback.“Ipaidherdebt.That’swhyshemarriedme.”
“Iknow!”Hunterlaughedhysterically,desertingthemanureandpouncingonme.Heshovedmetotheground,twistingthelapelsofmyblazerashepinnedmedown.“Iknow,becauseafterthenightPersycametoacceptyourofferintheblizzard,Iknockedonherdoor.IknewIhadtomakeitright.Notforher,orforyou,butformywife.Ididn’twantanythingtoupsetSailorsoearlyinthepregnancy.Persytoldmeaboutherdebt.Iofferedtopayitinfullandwroteacheckrightinfrontofher.”
Iblinkedathim,confusedanddisappointedwithmyselfforwantingtoheartherest,bloodthunderingthroughmyhead.
“Youwroteacheck?”Igrowled.“Doesn’tyourgenerationVenmo?”
Heloweredhisheadtomine,hiseyesburningwithrage.“Shetorethebitchupinfrontofmyfaceandtoldmeshewasmarryingyoursorryass.Shewantedtomarryyou!Stipulationsandassholeryincluded.Nowmyquestionisthis—howdidyoumanagetoloseher?Howdidyoulettheonlygirlyou’veeverlovedjust…go?”
“Idon’t—”
“Ofcourseyoudo!”Hesmashedmyheadagainstthedirt.Itwisted,grabbinghimbytheshirtandrollinghimover,switchingourpositionssoIwasontopofhimnow.
“Youfool,anyonewithapairofworkingeyescouldseeyou’recrazyabouther.Youcouldn’tlookPersephoneintheeyelikeasix-year-oldforaslongasyou’veknownher.Youcouldn’tbringyourselftoattendhergoddamnwedding.You’vehaditbadforherfromthemomentyousawher.Youlethergobecauseofyourstupidinsecurities.Becauseyouaresoconvincedyou’reHades,doomed,dark,andunredeemable,youhaven’tevenbotheredtoreadthemythalltheway.”
Hereachedtowraphisfingersaroundmythroat,pressing,drainingtheoxygenoutofme.
“Persephone!”Heclaspedharder.
“Loved!”Heshookmebytheneck.
“Hades!”
“Idon’tl-l-l-loveher.”Iheaved,plummetingintohisfacewithmyfists.Stuttering.Losingit.
Huntersmiledthroughthepain.
“Sayitlouder,”hewhispered.
“Idon’tlo-lo-lodammit!Loveher!”Ipunchedhimagain.Thistimehisjawline.
“Louder.”
“Areyouanidiot?”Ididn’tknowwhyIaskedthisquestion.Iwasalreadywellawaremybrotherpossessedtheintelligenceofaturkey.Acum-stuffedone,forthatmatter.“Idon’tlovemywife.”
Hepunchedmeback,laughing.Werolledontheground,hittingeachother,yankinghair,pokingeyes,cursing,andgruntingliketwocavemen.
Liketwobrothers
IkeptsayingIdidn’tloveher,andHunterkeptcacklingasifthatwasthefunniestthinghe’deverheard.
Ididn’tknowhowmuchtimehadpassed,butwhenweweredone,webothlookedandsmelledlikehorseshit.
Pantingandsweating,wewerecoveredinmudandmanurehead-to-toe.
Hunterwasthefirsttostandandstompbacktohiscar.
“Apologize,”Idemandedtohisretreatingback.Hewavedmeoff.
“Siblingsdon’tapologize.Theyjuststartactingnicetoeachother.Now,youain’tdrivinganywhereafterpolishingoffabottleofvodka.Getyourassinmycar.I’mthrowingyouintheshowerandtakingyoutoseeyourniece.”
Iopenedmymouthtosaysomething.Eventhoughhecouldn’tseeme,hestillraisedhispalminwarning.
“Saveit,bro.Idon’tcare.Andifyou’reworriedaboutseeingyourestrangedwifeatthehospital,don’t.Bythetimewegetthere,she’llbeatwork.Youdidn’tevenaskwhatmydaughter’snamewas.”Hethrewthedriver’sdoortohisAudiopen.
“Whatisit?”
Pleasedon’tletitbeGrinderorNatureValley.
Thesmilethatbrokeonhisfacethreatenedtocrackitintwo.
“Rooney.”IdrovetoAndrewArrowsmith’shouseassoonasIkissedmynewniece,Rooney,hello.
Shewasapinkballwithaheadfullofredhairjustlikehermotherandblueeyeslikeherfather.Thelungs,sheprobablygotfromMichaelPhelps.Thekidcouldblowofftheroofwithherscreams.
Allinall,RooneywasoneofthecutestbabiesI’dlaideyesonandawelcomeadditiontothefamily.
I’dappreciatedhowSailorrefrainedfrompointingoutthatIwasacompleteandutterpieceofhumangarbageforwhatIdidtoherbestfriend.SheacceptedmycongratulationswithalukewarmsmileeventhoughitwasobviousIwasresponsibleforthefactherhusbandhadarrivedbackinherhospitalroombeatenuptoapulpandsportingtwoshiners.
Afewhourslater,IcaughtAndrewwobblingfromhisfrontdoortoaU-Haultruckwithacardboardboxtuckedunderhisarm.Thedirtysweatpantsanddisheveledhairwereafarcryfromhisusualprettyboyattire.
ParkingbehindtheU-Haulandblockinghisway,IslidoutofmyAstonMartin,mysunglassesandfreshsuithidingmylessthanpristinecondition.
“Movingsofast,Arrowsmith?Wehaven’tevenhadachancetohavebrunch.”
Hedumpedthecardboardboxathisfeet,groaning.
“I’mhandinginmyresignationtomorrow.Itooksometimeofftomoveout,asyoucansee.”Hemotionedforthetruck,implyingthatIwasdelayinghisprogress.
“Doesn’tworkforme,I’mafraid,”Itsked,scanningthehalf-fulltruck.“You’llhandinyourresignationbytheendoftheworkdayanddropthelawsuitbythreeo’clock.Ifnot,IwillsueyouforeverysinglepennyI’vespentinlegalfeessincethisbullshitstarted.”
Hisjawdropped.
Yes,Icursed.
No,Iwasn’tafraidforthetruthcomingoutanymore.
I’dalreadylostthemostvaluablethingIhad—mywife—andanyoneelse’sopinionofmedidn’tmatter.Leastofallhis.
“Why?”heasked,rearinghisheadbacktosquintatme.“WhywouldIdothingsyourway?Allyournastywifehasonmeisabadreportfromasocialworker.”
ThespeedinwhichIpinnedhimtothetruckbythethroatmadehimgasp.
“Yourmouthisnotworthyofreferringtomywife,letalonecallinghernasty.”
Choking,hecurledhisfingersaroundmywrist,whichwasthewidthofhisneck.Pissingmeoffwasnothisbestideathisyear.Unfortunatelyforhim,herealizeditamomenttoolate.
Andrewturnedpink,thenpurplebeforeIeasedthepressureonhiswindpipe.
“Asforyourquestion—itismorethanareport,andwebothknowit.Youareabusingachildwithadisorder.Yourownchild.Andlet’snotforgetthebatterychargeforwhatyoudidtoyourwife.That’snotverycharitable,now,isit,Andy?”
I’dreadthereportagainstArrowsmithallnight,overandoveragain,resistingtheurgetopickupthephoneandbegPersephoneforforgiveness.Shedidathoroughjobhandingmemyenemyonasilverplatter.
Andrewsagged,takingaraggedbreath.
“Iwasn’t…Ididn’t…”Heshookhishead,turninghisbacktome,plasteringhisforeheadtothetruckandclosinghiseyes.“IloveTinder.Ijustdidn’tknowwhyme.Whydidithappentomychild?HowwasitfairthatIhadtoraiseachildasscrewedupasthemanIhatedthemost—”
Me.
“Myonlysinwasbeingthesonofthemanwhohurtyourfamily.”
Heturnedbacktome.
“Well,hatinghimwasfutile,wasn’tit?Hehadagoodreasontodowhathedidtomydad.Plus,itwasn’tlikeIhadanyaccesstohim.YourepresentedtheFitzpatricks.YouwerethepersonI’dseendayinanddayout.Ifeltbetrayedandplayed.Ourpaths,thathadalwaysbeenparallel,werenowforkingindifferentdirections.Ifeltdeprived.RobbedofopportunityandprospectsandafutureIdeserved.”
Hetookasharpbreath,tiltinghisheadskywards.
“IusedtotossandturninbedhopingtheFitzpatrickswouldadoptme.”Therewasapause.“Mywish—myfantasy—wastobeyou.AndwhenIfoundoutyouwerelessthangolden,lessthanmoòrga,Iusedittomyadvantage.”
Ilookedaway,crackingmyknuckles.IwasexperiencinganarrayofnegativeemotionstowardArrowsmith,fromresentmenttopity.
Iwasfeelingagain,whetherIwantedtoornot.
“YouandI,wewereinthebusinessofpain.ButwithTinder…”Andrewscrubbedhisface.“IneverrealizedIwashurtinghim.IthoughtIwashelpinghim.YourwifesaidshewillmakethisgoawayifIattendtherapythreetimesaweekandliveinadifferenthouse.IgaveJoellefullcustodyyesterdaymorning.Icanonlyseemyownchildrenwhilesupervisednow.”
Mywifewasfuckingfantastic.ItwashardtobelieveI’dmistakenherforanervous,innocentgirlwhocouldn’tstandupforherself.
Persephonewasboththegoddessofspringandthequeenoftheunderworld.
“Youhaveuntiltheendoftheday,”Irepeated,takingastepback.Theneedtoleavemadethesolesofmyfeetitch.Ihadbetterplacestobe.Betterthingstodo.Allofthemconnectedtowhatmattered.Tothepersonwhomattered.“Dropthelawsuitandresign,thenwriteanextensivepressreleasekissingmyassandadmittingyourwrongdoings.”
Iturnedaroundtoleave,knowinghewasgoingtoplayintomyhands.
“Cillian,”Andrewcalledout.Istopped,notturningaround.
“How’dyoudoit?”heasked.“Teachyourselftofeelagain.”
IhadahunchIknewwhyhewasaskingmethisquestion.
That,infact,Iwasn’ttheonlypersonwholearnedhowtostopfeelingintheprocesswe’dgonethroughtogetherthatyearinEngland.
Andrewwasscarredandbattered,too.
IshookmyheadasIslidbackintomycar.
“Ididn’t,”Imuttered.“Shetaughtme.”
Drivingbacktomyhouse,IrealizedthatI’dtakentwofulldaysoffwork—morethanIhadsinceI’dfinishedcollege.Iwentuptomystudyandretrievedthecontract.TheoneinwhichI’dhandedovermysoultoPersephone.
Iwasgoingtoleaveitforherinthemail.Emmabelle’smail.Persephonehadmovedbacktohersister’shouseyesterday,aftervisitingmyoffice.
I’dtriedtoimplementrules,terms,andconditionsformywifetohavemysoul.NevertakingintoconsiderationthefactthatthegoddamnL-worddidnotaskforpermissiontobefelt.
Itdidn’tmatterwhatIwantedtogivePersephone.
Becausemyloveforherwasagiven.
Anditwastimesheknewit.“Thiscameinthemailforyou.”Belletossedathickenvelopeontothekitchenettetableasshemadeherwaytotheshower,stretchingherarms.
Itwasseveninthemorning.Iwasfreshlyshowered,dressed,andreadyforwork.Ihadn’tbeenabletosleeplastnight,orthenightbeforeit.
EversinceI’dleftCillian,Icouldbarelyfunction,butIknewIhadtolethimgo.
Forhim.
Forme.
“Don’tforget,wepromisedtovisitSailoratfive.Letmeknowifyouwantmetopickyouupfromwork.”Belleproceededintothebathroomafteralongnightofwork.Goeswithoutsaying,IlefttheTelsabackattheapartmentKillhadgivenme.
Grabbingtheenvelope,Ifrowned.
Iflippeditbackandforthbeforetearingthethingopen.
Mysoul-purchasingcontractwasthere,dulysigned,notarized,andapostilled
Myhearthammeredagainstmyribcage.Iunfoldedthecontractwithshakyfingers.Whenanoteslippedoutofit,Irecognizedmyhusband’slong,boldstrokes.
Mysoulisyours.
Notermsattached.
Letmeknowifyouhaveanyconditionsforkeepingit.
Iwillmeetthemall.
Cillian
Tearswelledupinmyeyes.
Killdidn’tbelieveinsouls.Hewasgivingmesomethingthatwasofnovaluetohim.AsmuchasIwantedtobelieveit,IknewIshouldn’t.EverytimeIchoseoptimismoverrealisminourrelationship,Igotburned.
Supplyanddemand.
Itwasn’tthatIdidn’tbelievehehadasoul.Ididn’tquestiontheexistenceofwhathe’dofferedme.ButasIrippedthecontracttoshreds,disposingitinthegarbagecan,IbegantofollowthefootprintsofCillian’smind.
HeknewSailorhadgivenbirthtoRooney.
Figuredtheswordwasclosetohisneck,thatitwasonlyamatteroftimeuntilHunterproducedmaleheirs.
Wantedmebackinhishouse.
Back,period
Touse.
Togethisrocksoff.
Toimpregnateanddiscard.
Iwasn’tfallingintohiscobweb.Hesavedme.Isavedhim.AsfarasIwasconcerned,we’dsettledthescore.
Itwastimewebothmovedon.
Iturnedaround,grabbedmybag,andhurriedoutthedoortothebikeI’dparkedoutsidethebuilding.
Nothingofhiswasmineanymore.
Thenextday,Ireceivedatextmessagefrommyhusbandfirstthinginthemorning.
IhadtorubmyeyestwicetomakesureIwasn’thallucinating.Henevertextedme.Atleast,heneverinitiatedthetexts.Iproceededwithcaution,wonderingwhathe’dsentme.
Itwasapictureofacloudfloatinginaclearsky.
Cillian:Yourauntpaidmeavisit.ShetoldmeIwasacunt.Ididnotdisagree
Cillian:Havedinnerwithme.
Isnortedoutalaugh.
Hewasbad,buthewastrying,andthefacthedidmademyheartthaw,nomatterhowbadlyIknewIneededtoquithim.
Bellestretchedbesidemeinbed,lettingoutasoftsnore.
“IsitKill?”
“Yeah.”Ipressedthephonetomychest,feelingprotectiveofhimevenaftereverythingthathappened.
“Don’tanswer.”Sheshookherhead.“Heneedstosweatalittle.Seethatyouhaveabackbone.”
Ideletedthemessagebeforetheurgetoansweritwonandwentaboutmyday.
Sixweekshadpassed.
Sixweeks,thirteenpicturesfromCillianofAuntieTildainthesky,andarequesttomeet.
Nowwiththelawsuitoutofthepicture,Killhadtimetoputhisheirplanintohighgear.
Ineveransweredanyofhismessages.
Itwasn’taboutpunishingmyhusband;itwasaboutmakingsureIhadmyownback.Irefusedtobeowned,evenif,initially,Ihadbeenbought.
SixweeksafterRooneyFitzpatrickcameintothisworld,Ifilledoutmydivorcepapers.
Isatatthefamilylawyer’sofficethatsmelledandbledoftheeighties,feelinghereyesonmetheentiretimeasIsignedallthepaperwork.
“Yousureyouwannadothis?”sheaskedforthethousandthtime,lettingoutasmoker’scough.SheremindedmeofJoeyfromFriendsagent,Estelle.“Imean,youwon’thearanycomplaintsfromme.I’mgettingmyfee,buttheFitzpatricksaren’tabadfamilytomarryinto,child.”
“I’msure.”Isignedthelastpage,pushingitacrossthedeskinherdirection.“Canyousendittohim,please?”
Sheshookherhead.
“Sorry.Yourspousemustbeservedinperson.Andithastobebyasheriff,whowillthengiveyouproofviareturnofservice.”
Asheriff.
ThelistofpeopleIknewwhowouldpaygoodmoneytowatchCillianbeingserveddivorcepapersbylawenforcementwaslongerthanWarandPeace.ButIdidn’twanttocauseKillanymoretroubleorhumiliation.
“Isitreallynecessary?”
Justthismorning,Cillianleftmeanothermessagewithacloud.
Cillian:Spoketoyouraunt(ifyoutellanyoneIconversedwithacloud,Iwillflatoutdenyit).ShesaidIshouldtakeyouonahoneymoon.Iboughttickets.
Heseemedundeterred.Atthesametime,Iappreciatedhimgivingmemyspace.Heneveronceshoweduponmydoorsteporbulldozedintomylifelikeheusedto.
“Yes,”saidthelawyer,bobbingherheadlikeadashboarddog.“Maybeyoushouldtalktohimifyou’resounsure.Ifyou’regoingtodivorceaman,atleastgivehimthecourtesyofexpectingit.”
Istood,collectingthepapers.
“I’lllethimknow.”
Ihadto.
Iwasn’tgoingtostayinalovelessmarriage.
Evenifitwastotheloveofmylife.
“CanIturnonthelocalnews?”Ms.Gwenswoopedtheremotecontrolfromoneoftheroundtablesintheteachers’lounge,pointingitatthetelevisionandswitchingthechannelfromsports.Acoupleofthemaleteachersgroanedinprotest.
Ipokedatmymicrowavedpasta,sittinginthebackoftheroom,tryingnottothinkabouthowBellehadpromisedtodeliverthedivorcepaperstoCillianassoonasshewokeuptoday,whichshouldbeatabouttwointheafternoon.
Icouldn’tgoforwardwiththesheriffthing.Ijustcouldn’timagineputtinghimthroughthis.Thehumiliation.Theembarrassment.Thepublicityofallthis.
Still,thelimbohadtostop.Ihadtomoveon.
“Whatarewewatching?”Ms.HazelploppednexttoMs.Gwenandme,poppingasaltandvinegarchipintohermouth.“Wait,isthatapressconference?”
“Breakingnews.”Ms.Michellesoundedstartled.Ikeptmyheaddownastheycrankedupthevolume.Iheardthemutteringofpresspeopleaheadofaconference,andthentheintensehushedvoicesandloudclicksofthecameraswhenthepersonwhowasspeakinggotonstage.IrefusedtoliftmyeyesfromthedishIwasn’teveneating.IhadthisthingagainwhereIknewifImadeonemove—eventrailmygazeupaninch—thetearswouldstartfalling.
“Hey,Pers,what’syourhotguydoingonthenews?”Ms.Michellechirped.
“Breakingherpoorcolleagues’hearts,that’swhathe’sdoing.”Ms.Gwenchuckled.“Emphasisonthewordpoor.What’reyoustilldoinghere,Persy?Didyounotgetthememoyou’reloaded?”
“Why,hellothere,honey,”whistledMs.ReginatotheTVscreeninamannerIknewCillianwouldhate.“Youcanruinmynaturalresourcesanydayoftheweek.”
“Ladiesandgentlemen,thankyousomuchforcomingheretoday.AsImentioned,thisstatementwillbebrief,and,likemytemper,short.”
Myeyessnappedupfrommyfrozenmeal.Mythroatclogged.
Cillianwasstandingthere.Myhusband—atleastfornow—inoneofhisgloriouslydarkgraysuits,dashingsilkdarkhair,andthehoodedexpressionofapredatorontheprowl.SeeinghisfaceagainremindedmewhyI’dinsistedhewouldneverseekmeout.Itdisarmedmecompletely.
Hisvoice.Hispresence.Hissmokyambereyes.
Thecamerasclickedenthusiastically.ItwasbizarretoseethemanI’dspentcountlessnightswithonatelevisionscreen,deliveringamessagetothecityofBoston.
Washeannouncingourdivorce?
DidBelleservehimyet?
“Despiteprovingtobeagreatfinancialresourceandrevealingstrongpotentialingettingourhandsonmoreoil,RoyalPipelineshasdecidedtostoptheArcticexplorationdrillingsimmediatelyandindefinitely.Allthescheduledrigswillbeshutdown,futureplansareshelved,andthecurrentrunningtrialswillceasetooperateasof”—heraisedhisarm,checkinghisdesignerwatchwithafrown—“exactlyfifteenminutesfromnow.”
MurmursandgaspsexplodedacrossRoyalPipelines’mediaroom.JournalistsandreportersshoutedquestionsaboutGreenLiving,AndrewArrowsmith,andthepotentialclashwithGreenpeace,whowererumoredtopickupthelawsuitwhereArrowsmithleftoff.
MyheartbeatsofastIthoughtIwasgoingtofaint.
Killraisedhishandnonchalantly,stoppingthestreamofquestions.
“AsIsaid,thestatementwillbebrief,andIwillnotbetakinganyquestions.Inadditiontostoppingalloil-rigactions,asofthisafternoon,IamalsotheproudownerofthesurroundingArcticareaswhichhaveshownpotentialandpromisetodiscoveroil,meaningRoyalPipelinescurrentlyholdsallthereservesandoptionsforanyonetodrillintheArctic.Ever.
“IwillexplorecleaneroptionsinmybidtogrowRoyalPipelines’capitalandamstillcommittedtoemploytensofthousandsofAmericans.Infact,IwouldliketoinformourinvestorsthatIalreadygotmyhandsonsomethingfarmorelucrativethantheArcticandnotnearlyasdestructive.”
Thewinning,villainoussmileheshotthecamerawasofsomeonewhowashavingacheckmatemoment,notsomeonewhohadjustgivenuphisflagshipoperation.ButthatwasCillian.Alwaysthreestepsaheadofthegame.
“ThereasonformyexecutivedecisionhasnothingtodowithGreenLiving.Asyou’reaware,GreenLivinghaddecidedtodropthecaseagainstRoyalPipelines.Asoftoday,noonehadmanagedtopickitupandcarryitthrough.Thereasonformydecisionisentirelypersonal.
“Assomeofyouknow,Imarriedlessthanayearago.Oneofthethingsmywifetaughtmewastolisten.Thisismelisteningtowhatshehadtosay.She’sbeenoutspokenagainstdrillingintheArcticthroughoutourshortmarriage.”Hepaused,twistinghismouthgrimly.“ShedrivesaTesla,yousee.”
Thejournalistsandphotographerseruptedinlaughter.Afewcolleaguesshotmecuriousglances.MypeersalwaysaskedmewhatIwasdoinghere.Asifwakingupforworkwassomesortofpunishment.Liketheywouldn’tmissourstudentsiftheyquitwork.Imostlyignoredit,butthetruthwas,IlikedkeepingmyjobbecauseIdidn’tknowifCillianwasgoingtokeepme
Itriedtoblinkbackthetears,avertingmygazefromtheTV.
Itoldhimnottocontactme,andhekeptonfindingnewandcreativewaystoreachouttome.
Ittookmemonthstoturnmybackonus,butInevertookintoconsiderationtheremaybeagamechanger.
ThatCillianmightwakeupandfightforus.
“AnyoneinterestedinhearingajokeaboutthattimeKilldrilledtheArcticbutstoppedbecausesomeonethawedhisicyheart?”
HuntersnortedwhenIgotoffthestage,pacingbehindme.Devonfollowed.
“No,”DevonandIbarkedinunison.
Hunternodded.“’Kay.Goodtalk.”
Weslippedthroughthebackdoor,takingtheelevatorbacktothemanagementfloor.Ikeptcheckingmywatch,wonderingwhenanappropriatetimewouldbetotrycallingmywife.Ifinallygotit.Howbadlyitsuckedtobeignored.I’dignoredPersephoneformonthswhenIhadherinmybed,sweetandwilling.
Hertexts,herwords,herquirkyobservations.Theywereallmineforthetaking.
NowIhadtodothechasing,andIhadtoadmit—theyweren’tkiddingwhentheycalledKarmaabitch.
Theelevatordinged.Istrodeouttomyoffice,wavingatHuntertogetasfarashumanlypossibleawayfromme.Iwasasurlysonofabitchthesedays.Icursed.Ishoutedatemployees.Ididalotofmortalthingspeopleweren’tusedtofromme.Theotherday,Isaidfuckwhilegolfingwithmyfather.Healmosthadastroke.
SpeakingofAthair,Ispottedtheoldsodpacingtheboardroomfromthecornerofmyeyeandmadeaquick,sharpturntowardit.AnoverheadTVreplayingmypressconferencedancedonthewallbehindhim.Uponacloserlook,IsawMotherwasthere,too,perchedononeoftheseatsbythekidney-shapeddesk,fixinghermakeup.
Iopenedthedoor,closedit,andwaitedforthestorm.Ididn’thavetowaitlong.
“Youlittlepieceof—”
“IwouldnotfinishthatsentenceifIwereyou.”Iraisedmyopenpalm,wearinganeasysmileonmyface.“You’retalkingtotheCEOofRoyalPipelines.Disrespectme,andyou’llfindyourselfescortedoutofmybuilding.”
“Yourbuilding?”hesputtered.“That’sagoodone.No.Youwouldnever,”myfatherspatout.Ididn’thavetogracethatwithananswer.HealreadyknewIwascapableofprettymuchanything.
Hefellintooneoftheseats,grabbinghisheadinhishands,shakingit.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Iamundernoobligationtomakesensetoyou,”Iinformedhim.
“GreenLivingdroppedthelawsuit.Thiscould’vebeenthemostlucrativeoil-rigoperationintheworld.Imean,youweretheonewhopushedforit.Youweretheheadofresearch.Youspentthreegoddamnmonthslivingonaniceberg,managingthisprojectclosely.Thiswasyourbaby,Cillian.”
“Yes,”Isaid.“AndnowI’minterestedinanotherbaby.Ahumanone.WhichiswhyI’dlikemywifetobeascontentasshecanbe.”
“Thisiswhatit’sabout?”Motherjumpedtoherfeet,finallyjustifyingheroxygenconsumptionintheroom.“Sweetie,weappreciateyoumarryingthis…thissweet,commongirl,butthereareothersoutthere.Justaspretty,andtheywon’tinterferewithyourbusiness.Ididn’tinterferewithyourfather’sbusiness.”
“No,”Iagreed.“Youalsohadjack-shittosayaboutanything,fromourupbringingtooureducation.Attheriskofsoundingdisrespectful—which,bytheway,Iamhappytotake—Idon’twantyourkindofmarriage.Itlooksawful,insideandout.Idon’twantmanageable.Idon’twantmywifetobeaghostofamother.Ayeswoman.Aprop.AndIlikemycommonwifejustfine,Mother.”
Morethanlikeher.
PersephonesacrificedmoreformeinourshortmarriagethanMotherdidsinceIwasborn.
“Thisbeatstheentirepurposeofyougettingmarried!”myfatherthundered,jumpingtohisfeet.“Losingthis1.4-billion-dollaropportunityfora…fora…”
“Sayit.”Ismirked.“Forpussy,right?Nootherorganinawoman’sbodycountsforyou.Leastofallaheart.”
Itdidn’tforme,either.Notuntilrecently.
“Yes!”myfatherboomed,throwinghisarmsintheair,hisfacered,adropofsalivastaininghislowerlip.“IfIknewthatwasthecase,I’dhaveneverpushedyoutogetmarried.”
“I’mgladyoudid.”Iopenedtheglassdoor.“Thismarriagehastaughtmeanimportantlesson.AlessonEvon,Yale,andHarvardcombinedcouldn’t.Now,allowmetoapplysomeoftheconclusionsI’vecometoinrecentmonthsandthrowyouthehelloutofmyoffice—yes,myoffice,ifIputinthesixtyhourworkweek,I’mtheonecallingtheshots—withthistip:never,evertellmewhattodowithmyjob,mylife,andmymarriage.”
Ijerkedmychinoutthedoor.Bothmyparentsstaredatme,wide-eyed.
“Goon.Youknowhowtouseyourlegs,don’tyou?”
Walkedawayfrommeenoughtimesinyourlives,Iwastemptedtoadd.
Mother’seyesglitteredwhileshetriedtopullherselftogetherwhileAthairkeptasolemn,dignifiedexpression.Thelinehadbeendrawn.Theybegantomaketheirwayoutoftheoffice.Motherstoppedbythedoorandcuppedmycheeks,gazingupatme.
“I’msorry,”shewhispered,hervoicesosoftonlyIcouldhearher.“I’msorryforeverything.Youareright.Youdeservebetterthanwhatwemadeofourlives,Cillian.”
Ikissedhercheek.“Allforgiven.”
“Really?”
Igaveheracurtnod.“Nowgetout.”
Next,itwasmyfather’sturntostopbythedoor.Hiseyescrinkledwithamixtureofannoyanceanddelight.
“Moòrga.”Heinclinedhishead.“Youkeepsurprisingmewithyourstrength.Yourbrotherhasalwaysbeenawildcardbutsimpletocrack.That’swhyIunleashedtheBrennangirlonhim.Yoursister…well,sheisasaintIdon’thavetoworryabout,butyou.”Heinhaled,closinghiseyes.“Youweremydamagedchild,whichmadeyousomuchmoredangerousbecausewebothknewyoucouldsurviveanything.YouthinkIdon’tknow,”hewhisperedinmyear,gettingclose,tooclose—theclosesthe’deverbeentomephysically—“butIdo.Iknowaboutyourdemons,Cillian.Thesameonesliveinthebasementofmyheart.Onlydifferenceis,youseemedtohaveslayedyours.Goodforyou,son.”
Disorientedandinneedofastiffdrink,Istrodetomyoffice.
“Mr.Fitzpatrick!”Sophiajumpedfromherstation,sprintinginmydirectionassoonasIwalkedoutoftheboardroom.“Youhaveavisitor.”
“Who?”
“Ms.Penrose.”
“CallherthatonemoretimeandyouarepermanentlyblacklistedfromworkingatanyrespectableBostoncompany.”
Forcingmyselftokeepmystepseven,Imademywaytomyoffice,findingEmmabellePenrosesittinginmyexecutivechair,herlonglegsdrapedovermychromedesk.SheworeapairofLouboutinsIwasprettysurebelongedtomywife,apencilskirt,andablousethatdidn’tleavemuchtotheimagination.
Andthedayjustkeepsbetterandbetter.
“Nevermind.Wrongsister.”IwavedSophiaoff,pushingopentheglassdoorandclosingitafterme.Ileanedashoulderagainsttheglasswall,tuckingmyhandsintomyfrontpockets.
“Cillian!How’slifetreatingyou?”Emmabellepurred,lookingupfromherphone.
“LikeIfuckeditsunderagedaughter,andnowit’soutforrevenge,”Iansweredblandly,pushingoffthewallandtakingaseatinfrontofher.Iwas—andalwayswouldbe—unruffledbyherentireDitaVonTeeseonsteroidsact.Hercryforattentionfellondeafearsinmycase.
“Feetoffthetable,”Iinstructed.“Unlessyouwantthembroken.”
“Oh,dear,someone’sinamood.”Sheremovedherlegsfrommydesk,dumpingheruglysecondhandPradabagontopofmylaptop.Iresistedtheurgetohurlheroutofmywindow.Idoubteditwouldwinmeanypointswithmywife.“I’mafraidthingsareabouttogofrombadtoworse.”
“Isincerelydoubtthere’sroomfordeterioration,”Ilungedback.
“ThenI’mheretoproveyoutheskyisthelimit,baby.”Shepluckedsomethingfromherbag—astackofpapers—andsliditacrossmydeskwithherpointyscarletfingernail.“You’vebeenserved.”
Ididn’ttouchthepapers.Iglanceddownandsawmywife’shandwriting.Curvy.Romantic.Small.Likeher.
Forasecond,thetemptationnottofeelwasoverwhelming.
Tolaughitoff.
TokickEmmabelleout.
ToshowherthatIdidn’tcare.
ThenIremembereditwasexactlywhyIhadtofighttogetmywifeback.
“Theanswerisno,”Isaidmildly,crackingmyknucklesunderthetable.“ItoldPersephonedivorcewasn’tanoption.Itistacky,bringsbadpress,andbesides,she’syettofulfillherpartofthebargain.”
“Yourealizeyou’renotGod,right?”Emmabellecockedherheadsideways.“Youcan’tjustsnapyourfingersandmakepeoplefallinline.”
Istaredather.“Proveit.”
“Shedoesn’twantyouanymore.”
“Icanchangehermind.”
“Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”Bellegrinned,hereyesglittering.
“ShewantedmebeforeIeventried.NowthatIintendtomakeaneffort,shewon’tbeabletoresistme.Eitherway,webothknowyou’rewalkingoutofherewiththedivorcepetitionifIhavetofuckingfeedittoyou.Thishasnolegalground.You’renotthesheriff,andI’mnotaguyyoucanpusharound.Ifitcomestocourt,I’llaskthejudgeforcouple’stherapy—andwillreceiveit—seeingaswe’vebeenmarriedforashortperiodandnoadulteryorabusehasoccurred.”
“That’swhatIthought.”Emmabellechuckled,withdrawingthepapersfrommydeskandtuckingthembackintoherbag.“Look,I’mnotyourbiggestfanfornumerousreasons.AtthetopofthemisthefactyouplannedtolockmybabysisterinasuburbanMcMansionandhaveherproduceheirsforyouwhileyoustayedhereandlivedthebiglife.ButI’vecometoacceptthat,despiteyoursociopathicshortcomings,you’vetrulygrowntoloveher.AmIright?”
Thereweremanyoffensivethingsonthetipofmytongue,butEmmabellehadtheadvantagetoday.Ihadtoletherhaveherdayinthesun,evenifIwantedtoburnherdown.
“Yes,”Iagreedsullenly.“Iloveyoursisterverymuch.”
Somuchitgoddamnfuckinghurts.
“Well,maybeit’stimetotellherhowyoufeel.”Bellestood,scoopingherbagandhurlingitoverhershoulder.“You’vebeenapologizingforthewrongthingtheentiretime.Persephonedidn’tleaveyoubecauseyou’reanasshole.Heck,I’msureit’shalfofyourcharm.Sheleftyoubecauseshethinksyou’reincapableoffeeling.Proveherwrong.”
“HowthehellcanIdothat,seeingasI’mnotsupposedtoseeher?”
“Sayswho?”Sheblinkedinsurprise.
“Saysher,”Igrowled.“Shetoldmenottocomeafterher.”
“Sincewhendoyoulistentowhatmysistersays?Oneoftheverythingsshelovesaboutyouisthatyoudowhateverthehellyouwant.Always.”
Ofcourse,theonetimeIdecidedtoobey,itwastothewrongfuckinginstruction.
Mysister-in-lawtappedmyshoulderassheexitedmyoffice.
“Gogether.She’swaiting,andI’mgrowingtiredoftakingmyflingsbacktotheirapartmentsbecauseshe’sinmybed.”
Itwastimetobreakonemorepromise.“There’sacloudinourbackyard!”Dahlia,oneofmystudents,gasped,pointingherchubbyfingeroutthewindowbehindme.
“Whoa!”Reid’stareyesrounded,hispupilsdilatingliketwosplashesofink.“Thatisonegiant,humongouscloud.”
“Now,friends,”IsaidfromovertherimofthebookIwasreading.Theysataroundmeonthecolorfulalphabetcarpet.Thefogoutsidedistractedthem.“Crisscrossapplesauce.Everybodysitdownandpayattentiontothestory.WeneedtofinishreadingaboutPaddingtonattendingtheBusyBeeAdventureTrailbeforewecanplayoutside.”
“CollectingB-wordsisb-o-r-r-i-n-g!”Noahspelledthewordwrong,tossinghislimbsaboutthecarpetinfrustration.“Mommysaysteachersarenotverysmart,ortheywouldn’tbeteachers.Iwanttoplaywiththegiantcloud!”
Well,Noah,MommyisaBforbitc…
“Please!”Dahliacried.
“Oh,Ms.Persy!”Reidwhined.
Thekidsswarmedme,crawlingontomylapwhilepressingtheirpalmstogetherpleadingly.“Please,please,pleasecanweplaywiththecloud?Thenicemanwantsustojoinhimsobadly.Lookathimplayingallbyhimself.”
Theniceman?
Playingwithhimself?
Thinkingnowwasagreattimetocallthepoliceandmakeuseofmypepperspray,Iwhippedmyhead,myjawslacking.
Myhusband—whoaccordingtoBellerefusedthedivorcepapersyesterdayandkickedheroutofhisoffice—wasstandinginLittleGenius’backyard,sleevesrolled,hairtousled,onekneeonthegroundashecreatedahuge,white,solitarycloudthatfloatedabovehishead.Itwasthesizeofahotairballoon.Bigandfluffyandwhite.Myeyesdartedtotheground.Howdidhemakeit?
Ispottedametaltray,astirrer,amatch,andaMasonjarscatteredunderneathhim.
Westaredateachotherwordlesslythroughtheglasswall.
Thebookslippedfrommyfingers.Ifelttheherdofkidsastheyranpastme,dashingtothewindow,pressingtheirstickyfingersandnosestotheglassastheysquealedexcitedly.
Avoidingmyhusbandwasnolongeranoption.
Hebroughtmeacloud.
HebroughtmeAuntieTilda
Mylegscarriedmetotheglasswall.Hewalkedover,meetingmebehindthethinbarrier.
Iputmyhandontheglass.Cillianmirroredtheaction,ourfingertipstouchingthroughthewall.
“Itoldyounottocomehere.”Iswallowedhard.
“ItoldyoualotofthingsIregret,”heanswered.“Ihopemaybewhatyousaidwasoneofyours.”
“I’vealreadyusedmyCloudWish,Kill.Ican’thaveanotherone.”Myvoicebroke.
“Thewishisnotforyoutomake,Persephone.”Hesmiled.“It’sforme.”
Thechildrenpouredintothebackyardlikehotlava,spreadingfast,cracklingwithdelight.
Theirsmallarmsreachedforthecloud,tryingtograsptheungraspable,stretchingtheirfingersinanattempttocaptureitsmagic.
Iwasthelasttogetouttotheyard,stoppingafewgoodfeetawayfrommyhusband.Seeinghimafterweeksfeltlikedroppingaheavycampingbagatthedoorstepofyourhome.Iwantedtoburymynoseinhisneckandbreathehimin.
Ididn’taskhimwhathewasdoinghere.Iwasafraidtobelieve.Tohope.
DescendingfromOlympusdidn’tmakemyhusbandanylessregalandbeautiful,andtheGreekgodshadahistoryofmakingmortalsplayintotheirownhands.
“ThisoneisDahlia.”Hepointedatoneofthekids,whowaspunchingthesmoke,tryingtobringittosubmission.“YoucallherTheLittleMouse.Sassy,sweet,stubborn.ThisisTeo,”hecontinued,jerkinghischintoTeo,“shyandreservedbutobservant.Andthat’sJoe,”hecontinued,lookingatJoel,oneofmyfavoritepupils.Adreamerwithashockofbrightredhair.
“Howdidyouknow?”Iwhispered.
“I’vebeenlisteningduringourdinners,”headmitted.“Toeverywordyousaid.EvenifIpretendedotherwise.”
Myheartsoared.
“You’reclaimingyourCloudWish?”Iwrungmyfingerstogetherinmylap,turningintothesamegirlhe’dmetyearsagointhebridalsuite.Innocent.Unsure.
“Yes.”
“Whosaidyouhaveone?”Asmileflutteredonmylips.
“Youraunt.”Therewasnohintofmockeryinhisvoice,whichIappreciated,consideringhewasfluentinsarcasm.“ShesaidIhavetobecareful.Thatyouonlygetonewishinalifetime.”
Waitaminute…
ItwasthesamethingAuntieTildatoldme.AndIdidn’trememberevertellingKillaboutthisparticularpart.Itcouldn’tbe.Itmadenosenseatall.
“What’syourwish?”Iwhispered.
Thechildrenwereteemingaroundus,andIthoughtitwassymbolic,thatthereasonwewerebroughttogether—heirs—engulfeduseventhoughIhadn’tconceived.
“Iwantanhourwithyou.Sixtyminutesofyourtime.That’sallIask.Whenareyougettingoffwork?”
“Four,”Ianswered.“Sameasalways.”
“I’llwait.”
Atleasthehadn’ttoldmetoditchworkthistime.
“Howdidyoumakeacloud?”Ipointedbehindhim.
“NASAhasamanual.It’snothing.”
“It’samazing.”
“Thirdgraderscandoit.”
“Idon’tcare.”Ishookmyhead.“Willyouwaitforme?”Imotionedaroundus,totheschool.
Hesmiled.“Persephone,mydear,I’vebeenwaitingforeightyears.Fourmorehourswon’tkillme.”
ThedrivetoCillian’shousewasquiet.BeforeIgotoutofLittleGenius,Iputanalarmforexactlysixtyminutesonmyphone.Now,Ifiddledwiththestrapofmyshoulderbag,takinginthemonotonousviewoutside,tryingtoregulatemybreaths.
Itwasmakeorbreaktime.ApartofmealwaysknewCillianwasn’tgoingtosimplyacceptthedivorce.MaybethatwaswhyIwentaheadwiththepaperwork.Subconsciously,Iknewitwouldbeacallforhimtocomecloser.
Toseekmeout.
Todefyme.
“YoustoppedthedrillingintheArctic.”Iclearedmythroat,stilllookingoutthewindow.Itwastwentypast.DamnBostontraffic.Wehadfortymoreminutes.Technically,anyway.
“Yes.”
“Thatwas…nice.”
“Givingyouflowersisnice.Losingapproximately1.4billiondollarsayearinrevenueis,attheveryleast,aromanticgestureofShakespeareanproportions.”
Hesaiditsoincredulously—soseriously—Icouldn’thelpbutsnortoutalaugh.
“I’mnotevensurehowmanyzeroesthatentails.”
“Nine.”Hisfingerstappedhisknee,andIknewhewasitchingforacigarbuttryingtobeonhisbestbehavior.“Ten,includingme,ifmyplantodaydoesn’tworkandIfindoutIdidthisfornothing.”
Whenwegottohishouse,InoticedPetarwasout.Sowastherestofthestaff.I’dneverseentheplacesoempty.Ihadafeelingitwasplanned.
“Shouldwegotoyourstudy?”Iaskedpolitely.Apartofmestillconsideredhimacompletestranger.
Heshookhishead.“Iwanttoshowyousomething.”
Motioningformetofollowhimtothebackyard,heopenedthedoubledoorsinhislivingroom,andweproceededoutside.I’dvisitedhisgardenreligiously.NotonlywasitgorgeousbutIwasstillonthelookoutfortheelusivedemonfountain.ForthemysteriouspartofCillian’spropertyI’dyettodiscover.
Ifollowedhim,holdingmybreathwhenhestoppedbytheivy-laceddoorwiththehighwalls.I’dtriedopeningittwice,butitwasfirmlylocked.Killproducedakeyandunlockedit,pushingitopen.
Webothsteppedin,andtherewasthedemonfountain.Withwaterpouringoutofthebat-likemonsterwithpointyteeth.
Itwasasmallspace—maybeasbigasBelle’sapartment—andIwonderedwhatmadehimclosethissectionandisolateitfromtherestofthegarden.
Killcroucheddown,hands-on-thighs,squinting.Therewassomethingabouthisbodylanguagethatjarredme.Acertainstiffnessthatwasgone.Hiscomposurewasaninchlessthanperfect.Ilikedit.
“Whatarewelookingat?”Icametostandbesidehim,leaningforward.Hecaughtmebythewaist,tuggingsoftlyatmydresstokeepmefromgettingtooclosetotheflowers.
Totheseaofflowers.
Ijustrealizedthissectionofthehousewasjam-packedwithwildflowers.Andnotjustanyflowers.Thepinkandwhiteflowerswereshapedaslittlesadhearts.Iswallowed,takingastepback.
“Howlonghaveyouhadthose?”
“Almostfouryears.”Heturnedtomewithaslightfrown.“AboutamonthafterHunterandSailor’swedding,mylandscapercalledmeoutside,insistingIhadtoseethis.Hesaiditwaspeculiar.Thathedidn’tplantthebleedingheart,sohehadnoideahowtheflowerhadgottenhere.Hisbestguesswasseedsfromanearbygardenblewinthewindandsettledhere.ButIrememberedthatafterItooktheflowersfromyourhair,Iputtheminanapkin.Laterthatnight,whenIarrivedhome,Iwentouttothegardentosmokeacigar,foundthenapkin,andtossedit.Itwasjusttheoneflower,andmylandscaperaskedifIwantedtokeepit.Iimmediatelythoughtaboutyourcurse—wish,”heamended,“andsaidno.Heyankedthebleedingheartoutfromitsrootthesameday.Amonthlater,anotherbleedingheartgrewinthesamespot.Ihadhimwrenchitoutagain.Thistimehewentasfaraspoisoningthesoil.Onthefourthtime,Igaveup.Apartofmewantedtoseehowdamnstubbornyouwere.Andlookatitnow.Mygarden’sfullofthem.”
Ipressedmylipstogether,fightingasmile.
Hebarricadedapartofhisgardenbecauseitremindedhimofme.
Cageditwherenoonecouldseeit.
“SoIlivedwithyourbleedingheart.ApoisonousreminderofhowmuchIwantedyou.Notmuchlater,Ifoundoutyouweregettingmarried.”
“Youneveransweredmyweddinginvitation.”Ifeltcolorrisingonmyskin.
“Everyonehastheirlimits.Idrawmineatcelebratingmyidiocyofpushingyouintoanotherman’sarms.Timewentby.I’dforgottenaboutyou,mostly.Thewheelsoflifekeptonspinning,andnomatterhowfastorslowtheywent,IbarelyevenrememberedIwasonboard.ThenPaxtonleft,I’dbeenappointedCEOofRoyalPipelines,andyoushowedupatmyoffice,lookingforafavor.Myinitialreactionwastoputasmuchspacebetweenusaspossible.”
“Youdidn’twanttofeel,”Isaidsoftly.Heshookhishead.
“Atthispoint,Iwasn’tevenconcernedaboutthepossibilityoffeeling.Iwasmainlystillannoyedaboutthedamnflowersthatkeptshowingupoutofnowhereinmybackyard.Likeyousnuckinatnightandplantedthemthere.Butthentheneedforabridearose…”
“Yes,andyouhadmultiplecandidatestochoosefrom.YoucanceledtheengagementtoMinkaGomes.Why?”
Hefrownedatthebedofflowers.
“Shewasn’tyou.”
“Shecould’vebeenpregnantbynow.”
“Itwasneverabouthavinganheir,”hequipped.Agorgeous,irresistiblekingwhowasmisjudgedandmisunderstood.“Deepdown,Iwasn’taltruisticenoughtogiveafuckaboutthelineage.”
Iglancedatmyphone.Wehadhalfanhouratmostbeforehiswishwasover.
“TellmeabouttheTourette’s,”Ipleaded.“Everything,rightfromthebeginning.I’veonlyseenafewvideos,buttheywereenoughtoshowmewhatyou’vebeenthrough.”
“Itstartedwithsimpletics,rightaftermyfatherfiredAndrewSenior,andmovedtofull-blownattacksbythetimeI’dgottenbacktoEnglandaftersummerbreak.ThelonelierIfelt,theworsetheybecame.I’dbeeninandoutofclinics,andontopofTourette’s,IalsoreceivedcomorbiddiagnosisofhavingOCDandASD.Tome,itfeltliketheendoftheworld.PeoplethinkofTourette’sascrazypeoplewhoshoutoutobscenitiesagainsttheirownwillinragsonthestreet,OCDascompulsivelyobsessivemaniacswhowashtheirhandsfifteentimesanhour,andASDmeansI’montheautismspectrum.WhichbasicallymakespeoplethinkI’msomesortofRainMan.Goodwithnumbers,dumbateverythingelse.
“Quickly,I’drealizedIneededtoreininthisconditionifIwantedtobecomeallthethingsIwasborntobe.IlearnedthatwhileIcouldn’tcontrolthetics,Icouldcontrolwhatmadethemhappen.Andwhatmadethemhappenwasmybeingoverwhelmedwithemotion.Anytypeofemotion.Whetheritwassadness,distress,anger,fear,orevenjoy.IfIwasexcited—ifmyheartraced—thepressureofanattackusuallyfollowed.AslongasIdidn’tallowmyselftofeel,Ikepttheticsatbay.Itwasverysimpleandworkedforeveryoneinvolved.”
Thisexplainedsomuch.
WhyCillianwassofondofhisleathergloves—hedidn’tliketouchingstrangethings,duetohisOCD.
Whyhemanagedtodisconnectfromhisfeelingssoefficientlywhentheybecameacomplication.
Whyhealwayscrackedhisknuckles—toregulatehisbreaths,toself-soothe.Itwasatic.Areminderofwhathehadtolivewith.Hecouldn’tswitchoffwhohewas.Notfully.Nomatterhowhardhetried.
Whyhealwayskepthisguardup.
Whyheignoredmeforyearsinsteadofcavingintotemptation.
“Everyonebutyou.You’retheonewhocouldn’tfeelanything.”
“Isurvivedfine.”
“Survivingisnotenough.”
“Iknowthatnow.”Hissultryeyestwinkledatme.“Thankstoyou.”
Theairbetweenusbecamethickandcharged.Hetookmyhandinhis.Suchasimplegesture,yetitfeltasthoughhepluckedthestarsfromtheskyforme.Hepressedmyhandagainsthisheart.Itracedbeneathmypalm,thuddingviolently,desperatetosmashthebarrierbetweenusandjumpintomyfist.
Thestrongestheartshavethemostscars.
“KeepithereuntilI’mdone,”heinstructed,drawingadeepbreath.
“Iwantyou.”Heliftedonefinger.“I’vealwayswantedyouwithahungerthatmademychestacheandmymouthdry.That’soneemotion.Iamjealousandpossessiveofyou.Incaseyouhaven’tnoticed.”Heerectedtwomorefingersintheair.“Iworryandfearforyou.WhenIdiscoveredwhyyou’ddecidedtoworkforAndrew,Iwantedtoskinyoualiveforputtingyourselfatriskforme.That’stwomore.”Hesplayedhisentirehandoveraninvisiblescreenbetweenus,stretchingallfivefingers.
“Fiveemotionsdown,fivemoretogo.You’vemademethehappiestI’veeverbeen.Alsothesaddest.”Henowliftedtwofingersofhisotherhand.“Andcausedmeaninfiniteamountofpainandpleasure.”
Therewasonlyonefingerleftcurlednow.
Oneemotionhestillhadn’tunveiled.
Thewatchonhiswristsaiditwasfivetofive.OnlyfivemoreminutesbeforeAuntieTilda’swishevaporatedandweranoutoftimetosayallthethingswewantedtosay.
Mybreathhitched.
“Iloveyou,Persephone,”hegrowled.“Iloveyousofuckinghard.Somewherealongtheway,Isoftened.Imayhavesavedyoufromableedingheart,butyourbleedingheartsavedme.Tenemotionsarenottwenty-seven.There’sstillmoretogo,butIwanttotakethisjourneywithyou.
“WearenotHadesandPersephone,FlowerGirl.Neverwere.Ididn’tdragyoudownadarkpath.Youpulledmeintothelight.Helpless,Ifollowed.Blindly,Igotburned.IamIcarus.”Theclockhitfive.Oursixtyminuteswereup.Thealarmonmyphonebeepedtotellmeso,butIsmackedthesidebuttontosilenceit.“Iloveyouashelovedthesun.Tooclose.Toohard.Toofast.”
Hedippedhishead,hismouthclosinginonmine.Iwentlimpinhisarms.Hegatheredmetohischest,strongandresilient,steadfast.Acoldkinginhispoisonousgarden,finallylettingthesunraystouchhisskin.
Wesankdowntothegroundonourknees,andInolongerfearedtheearthwouldopenitsjawandswallowmeintotheunderworld.
Kill’smouthmovedovermine.Hepriedmylipsapart,rollinghistonguewithmineteasingly,tastingme.Imoaned,bracketinghischeekbones,deepeningourkissasIclimbedontohislap,theonlyplacethathadeverfeltlikehome.
Wekissedforhours.Bythetimeourlipsbroke,mymouthwasdry,mylipscracked,andavelvetblueshadowcoloredthesky.
Myhusbandslidhisnosedownthebridgeofmine.
“Thecontractstillstands.Mysoulisyours.”
“Ineverwantedyoursoul.”Ismiledintohislips,myeyesmeetinghis.“ItoreittoshredstheminuteIgotitinthemail.I’veonlyeverwantedyourheart.NowthatIhaveit,Ihaveasecrettotellyou.”
Hearchedaneyebrow.
Iputmylipstohisears.
“Ididn’tbelieveinsouls,either,before.”
“Before?”
“BeforeImetyou.”Ayearlater.
“Youlooklikeyou’reabouttoburst.”
Iwantedtostranglemysister,evenifherwordsweredeliveredwithgenuineconcern.
Objectivelyspeaking,Ididlooklikeanorange.Iwasforty-oneweekspregnantwithourfirstchild.Itwasclearthatmyson,likehisfather,wasnottoberushed.Rather,he’ddecidedtooptforagrandentrancewhilefashionablylate,somethingmybodydidnotappreciate.
Mybreastswerethesizeofwatermelonsandconstantlysore,mylowerbackfeltlikenothingbutpointyneedlessupportedit,andmyhormoneswereallovertheplace.
Thispastweek,Icouldn’tevenbringmyselftogetoutofbed.IhadtorelyonCillianforfoodandentertainment.Oh,andreachingthosepeskypartsIcouldnolongerscrubwhiletakingashower.
Ileanedovermyheadboardwithapout,wigglingmytoeseventhoughtheywerenothingbutadistantmemoryIcouldn’tseeanymore.
“Whenarethemoodswingsgoingtobeover?”Iponderedaloud.SailorandAislingwereintheroom,too,fawningoverme.“I’mtiredofburstingintotearseverytimeIseeaSuperBowlcommercialandwheneveraKatyPerrysongcomesontheradio.”
“Youcrybecauseshesucks,right?”Belleslumpedonthefootofmybed,massagingmyfeet.“Justwanttoconfirmyourhormonesareonlymessingwithyourfeelingsandnotyourtasteinmusic.”
Isnorted,givingheraplayfulkick.“I’mserious.”
“Mymoodswingsneverpassed,”Sailorsaid,drapedonareclinerinthecornerofourmasterbedroom.“IrememberpushingRooney’sstrolleralongajoggingtrail,lookingatasquirrelrunningabout,thinkinghowitstailwouldbeperfectforcleaningbabybottles.Inmydefense,itwasreallyfluffy.”
“Nooffense,bitch,butyou’renotsuchagreatexample.”Belleplacedmyrightankleoverherthigh,diggingherthumbsdeepintothearchofmyfoot.“YougotknockedupagainbeforeRooneygraduatedfromseeingshadestorecognizingvoices.Doesyourhusbandknowhecanputitawayeverynowandagain?”
“No,”weallsaidinunison,laughing.Aislingscrunchedhernose.Shewasstandingatthewindow,watchingmylushgarden.ThedayI’dmovedbackintothemansionwasalsothedaythebleedinghearthadbeguntowiltandeventuallydie.Itwaslikeitserveditspurposeandthenretired.IalwaysthoughtofitasAuntieTildafinallytakingabreathaftershegrantedmywish.
“Gross.It’smybrotherwe’retalkingabout.”Ashshuddered.“Cometothinkofit,otherthanyou,Belle,allmyfriendsarealsomysisters-in-law,andallofthemgotknockedupbymybrothers.It’salarming.”
“What’salarmingisthisbabyisstillinsideme.”Ipointedatmyhugebelly.
“Luckykid.”Myhusbandstrolledintoourroom,coolandcollectedinhisdesignersuit.Hisposturealonemademedroolalittle.Cillianhadbeenmostaccommodatingwhenwefoundoutmypregnancycamewithanincreasedsexualappetite.However,inthepastcoupleofmonths,havingsexbecamesuchachore,thesedayswewererelyingonoralfavorsandNetflixtokeepusbusyatnight.
“Satan,”Bellesaluted.Mysisterandmyhusbandgotalongfinethesedays.He’devenhelpedherbuyouthertwobusinesspartners,sonowshewasthesoleownerofMadameMayhem.
“Lucifer,”Sailorgreeted.
She,too,hadnobeefwithherbrother-in-lawanymore.
“Kill.”Ashnodded.
Heignoredthewomenintheroom,saunteringinmydirectiontoleandownandpressalong,close-mouthedkisstomyforehead.
“How’reyoudoing,FlowerGirl?”
“Tired.Sleepy.”Istretchedlazily,smilingupathim.
Herubbedmystomachthroughthestretchyorangefabricofmypajamas.
“Andthelittleguy?”
“Great.Ithinkhe’sgoingtobeasoccerplayer.He’sbeenkickingupastormallmorning.”
Cillianraisedhiseyebrows.“Whateverfloatshisboatduringadolescence.Butoncehe’soutofuniversity,he’sgoingtohavetotakehisplaceatRoyalPipelines.”
Groaning,Igrabbedthetipofmyhusband’stieandtuggedhimtome,shuttinghimupwithakiss.“We’vebeenthroughthis,hubs.Heisgoingtobewhateverhewantstobe.Heisnotyou.”
We’dhadalotofdiscussionsaboutwhatitmeantforCilliantobeCillian.TheheirtoRoyalPipelines.Howmaybe,ifitweren’tfortheburdenofhislineage,hewouldn’thavehadtofindcreativeanddestructivewaystodealwithhisdisorder.Adisorderthatstill—apartfrommyself,Andrew,andJoelleArrowsmith—nooneknewanythingabout.
Notevenhismother,who—Killtoldmeonce—probablyblockedthememoryofthatSwisslabinordertoprotectherself.
“Ofcourse,”hesaidflatly.“Hecanbewhateverhewants.Asoccerplayer,amusician,apoolboy.”
Ishothimalook.
“Buthe’llwanttobeaCEO,”Killfinished,grinning.
“Allrighty.”Belletappedmyankles.“Ithinkwe’regoingtoleaveyoutoitbeforeyouripoffeachother’sclothesandhaveverypregnantsexinfrontofus.It’sbeenreal.Pers,Momsayssheiscomingthisweek,andthatshe’sstaying.Shehasafeelingyouwillpopovertheweekend.”Shestood,motioningformyfriendstofollow.
“I’llhavePetargetoneoftheguestroomsready,”Killsaid.
“ButIhaven’trubbedPersy’stummyyettoday!”Ashprotested.
“God,Ash,youneedyourownbaby.”Sailorlaughed,pushingherout.
“I’veafeelingshe’llgetonesoon,”Bellemurmured,closingthedoorbehindthem.
Killflashedthedooranirritatedlook,thenturnedhisgazebacktome.
Iraisedmypalmsup.“Ican’thelpwhatleavesmysister’smouth.”
“Ifyoucould,you’dhaveafull-timejobmanagingit.HaveyouheardfromJoellethisweek?Sheaskedwhenshecouldstopby.”
ShortlyafterCillianandIgotbacktogether,IresumedmycommunicationwithJoelleArrowsmith.ShewasgoingthroughadivorcefromAndrew,whowasstillintherapy,workingintheprivatesectorasalegalconsultantandtryingtobecomeabetterfatherforTreeandTinder.JoellewasrelievedwhenIstartedvisitingheragain,oftenwithCillian,whokeptaneyeonTinderandoftenprovidedJoelleadviceandguidance.
I’deventakenthekidsandmyhusbandtoseeMrs.VeitchforaChristmascelebrationathernursinghome.Shediedafewweeksafterinhersleep.
“Ineedtocallherback,butI’mhopingthenexttimeIseeher,I’llhaveababyinmyhands.Canyouhelpmeup?Ineedashower.”Iwobbledaboutthebed.
“I’vegotyou.”Hescoopedmeupinhisarmsandcarriedmeintoourensuite.There,Istoodunderthestreamingshowerheads,steamcloudingtheglassdoorswhileKillleanedagainstthemarblecountertops,keepingmecompany.
“Sailorisstartingtoshow,”Iobserved,latheringmyarmswithsoap.
“Hmm,”Killanswerednoncommittally.Icouldseehimstrokinghischinfromthemirrorinfrontofus.“DoesAshreallywantababy?”
Ishrugged.“Wouldn’tsurpriseme.I’mtwenty-seven.Thatmakesher…what?Twenty-six?Nottoofarfetchedeventhoughshestillhasherresidencytocomplete.”Ashwasadoctornow.“We’vealwaysbeentheromanticsoutofthebunch.We’vealwayswantedbigfamilies.”
“Withtheslightdistinctionthatyouwereneverobsessedwiththekingoftheunderworld,”Killnoted.
SamBrennanwashisfriend,buthewasalsoamanhedidn’twantforhissister.
“No,”Iagreed.“Isimplyfellinlovewiththemedia’sfavoritevillain.”Ismiled,turningoffthewaterstreamandpattingthetilesformybathrobe.“Don’tworry,we’vegotyoursister.We’llkeephersafeandwon’tletherdoanythingtoowild.”
“Justliketheykeptyoufrommarryingme,”Killsaid,unconvinced.“Youaresweetbutstubborn,andmysister’smuchthesame.I’moldenoughtorememberthatwhenshewasfive,shealmostdraggedafuckingliveopossumintothehousebecausemyparentshadrefusedtograntherthepetshewantedsomuch.”
Myhusbandcursed.Notoften,andonlyinfrontofmeandasmallclusteroffriendsandfamily,buthedid.
Iflickedmyhandtoturnoffthewater.
Wait,haven’tIdonethisalready?
“…willbreakeveryboneinhisbodyandreassemblehimtolooklikeaPicassopaintingifheasmuchastouchesahaironherhead…”
“Kill,”Ibreathed.
“What?”Hestoppedtalking,turningtofacetheshower.
“Iturnedoffthewater…”Imurmured,lookingdown.“Butthewater’sstillrunning.”
Hiseyesdartedbetweenmylegs.
“Sweetheart,yourwaterbroke.”
Webothlookedateachother.
“Ready,DaddyKill?”
“Let’sgetit,FlowerGirl.”
AstorDamianArchibaldFitzpatrickwasbornonthewarmestdayinBoston’shistory.WarmerthantheunfortunatedayonourbelatedhoneymooninNamibia,whenmywifefulfilledherdreamtolieonavelvetyyellowduneandlookupatthesundefiantly.Atonehundredandtendegrees,Isweatedmyballsoffnearby,waitingforherpatientlywithacoldbottleofwater.
Itwassoscorchinghot,thepowerwentdown,generatorshadtobeusedtokeeptheelectricityrunningatthehospital,andmywifelookedlikealiquidversionofherformerself.
Thenhecameintotheworldandeverythingceasedtomatter.
“Andmyfourth-gradeteachersaidnothingwouldcomeoutofme.”Persephonepumpedtheairwhenthedoctorscoopedthebaby,laughingandcryingatthesametime,which,I’dlearnedduringmytimebeingwithher,wasapparentlyacompletelyvalidthingtodoforahumanbeing.
“What’shername?”Idemanded.“I’llmakesure—”
“God,Kill,whocaresaboutMs.Merrill!Givememybaby!”Therewasdefinitelymorelaughingthancryingnow.
Astordidnotcomeoutkickingandscreaming,asbabiesdo,rejectingtheveryideaofleavingthecomfortandwarmsafetyofthewombinwhichtheywerecreated.
Hecameoutquietandstern.Tooquiet,infact.Somuchso,thatthedoctorswoopedhimawaytoanearbytablebeforewecouldseehimproperlyandbeganpattinghimwithatowelandsuctioningfluidoutofhismouth.
“I’mjusttryingtostimulatehisfirstcry,”Dr.Braxmansaidcalmly.“Hispulseandcolorarefine,soI’msureitisnothing.Probablyjustatough,resilientbaby.”
Persephonewrappedmyhandinhers,squeezingmewiththeremainderofherenergy,drippingsweat.Afteratwelve-hourlabor,Iwassurprisedshewasstillawake.
“Kill,”shemoaned,cuppinghermouth.Ipulledherintoahug,craningmyneckatthesametimetoseewhatDr.Braxtonwasdoing.
“It’sfine.Everythingisfine.I’llgotakealook.”
Shenodded.
AsImademywaytothedoctor,whowasstillpattingandtouchingmybaby,surroundedbytwonurses,tryingtomakehimcry,theescalatingforceofanimpendingTourette’sattackcrawledupmyspine.Myheartraced.Myknucklespopped.Mydesiretoprotectmychildburnedsofiercelyinme,IwasprettysureIcoulddestroytheentirebuildingwithmytwohandsifsomethinghappenedtohim.
JustasItookthelaststeptowardDr.Braxman,Astoropenedhistinyredmouthandletoutawailthatnearlyshatteredthewindows,curlinghistinyfistsandthrustingthemintheairlikeRocky.
“Ah.Thereweare.”Dr.Braxmanwrappedmysonlikeaburrito,thenhandedhimtome,supportinghishead.“Tenfingers,tentoes,asetofhealthylungs,andalotofpersonality.”
Thedoctormovedquickly,settlingbackbetweenmywife’sthighs,whichhadbeencoveredwithacloth,andbeganstitchingherup.
Ifrowneddownatmyson.
Theso-calledgoal.Theendgame.MymissionaftersuccessfullytickingalltheboxesonmywaytotakingoverthereinsoftheFitzpatrickfamily.
AndoutofallthefeelingsIhadfelt—joy,pleasure,awe,happiness,wildanticipation,andviolentprotectiveness,evenalittlefeartossedin—Icouldn’t,forthelifeofme,seemyselfpassinghimtheburdenofgoingthroughwhatIhadtogothroughtomakemyparentsproud.
Itwasn’tfairtohim.Tome.ToHunter’sandAisling’schildren,andallthefutureoffspringweweregoingtohave.
Studyinghisface,Iadmiredhisperfection.Naturehadcherry-pickedourbestfeaturesforhim.Hehadhugeblueeyeslikehismother,mydarkhair,andaprominentnoselikemine.Buthisearsweresmall,likemywife’s,andhehadthatlook—thelookthatcouldmakeempiresfall—thatonlyPersephonePenrosehadevermanagedtohone.
Alookthatdisarmedme.
AlookthattoldmeImightnotbethebadcopinthehousehold,afterall.
“Excuseme,”Persephonesing-songedfromherplaceonthebed,wavingatme.“Myapologiesforinterrupting,butisthereanywayIcouldseemyownson,too?”
Ilaughed,walkingovertoher.Astorwasstillscreamingandthrowinghislittlefistsatme.Hehadsurprisinglylongfingernailsforanewborn,buttheylookedthinandbrittle.Iloweredhimtoherchest,whichwasonlypartlycoveredbyherhospitalgown.
Themotherandthebabystaredateachother,andtheworldaroundthemstoppedonitsaxis.Astorgotveryquietandveryserious.Persephonesuckedinabreath,andIstoppedbreathing,thepressureoftheattackeasingdown.
“Hello,littleangel.”Shesmileddownathim.
Hestaredather,mesmerized.
Iknowthefeeling,son.
Istoodbackandwatchedthem.
Myownlittlefamily.
Aperfectthinginthisimperfectworld.
KnowingImight’vepassedAstortheverythingthatlifehadcursedmewithbecauseitwashereditary.
Knowingthat,inallprobability,myfatherhadit,too.
AndvowingtomakesureAstorwouldnevergetlockedinachurchconfessionboothwithhisdemons.
Thathe,too,wouldonedaybeabletobaskinthelight.
TheEnd.Thisbookwasdefinitelyaridetowrite.Ittookalotfrommementallyandphysically.Idon’tthinkIwouldhavebeenabletowriteitwithoutmysupportgroup.Soheregoes:
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TheKissThief
PlayingwithFireExcerptfromTheKissThief
Beforeyougo,here’sasmallexcerptofTheKissThief.IfyouenjoyedCillianFitzpatrick,youaregoingtoloveWolfeKeaton…
WHATSUCKEDTHEMOSTWASthatI,FrancescaRossi,hadmyentirefuturelockedinsideanunremarkableoldwoodenbox.
SincethedayI’dbeenmadeawareofit—atsixyearsold—Iknewthatwhateverwaitedformeinsidewasgoingtoeitherkillorsaveme.Soitwasnowonderthatyesterdayatdawn,whenthesunkissedthesky,Idecidedtorushfateandopenit.
Iwasn’tsupposedtoknowwheremymotherkeptthekey.
Iwasn’tsupposedtoknowwheremyfatherkeptthebox.
Butthethingaboutsittingathomealldayandgroomingyourselftodeathsoyoucouldmeetyourparents’next-to-impossiblestandards?Youhavetime—inspades.
“Holdstill,Francesca,orI’llprickyouwiththeneedle,”Veronicawhinedunderneathme.
Myeyesranacrosstheyellownoteforthehundredthtimeasmymother’sstylisthelpedmegetintomydressasifIwasaninvalid.Iinkedthewordstomemory,lockingtheminadrawerinmybrainnooneelsehadaccessto.
Excitementblastedthroughmyveinslikeajazzytune,myeyeszingingwithdeterminationinthemirrorinfrontofme.Ifoldedthepieceofpaperwithshakyfingersandshoveditintothecleavageundermyunlacedcorset.
Istartedpacingintheroomagain,tooanimatedtostandstill,makingMama’shairdresserandstylistbarkatmeastheychasedmearoundthedressingroomcomically.
IamGrouchoMarxinDuckSoup.Catchmeifyoucan.
Veronicatuggedattheendofmycorset,pullingmebacktothemirrorasifIwereonaleash.
“Hey,ouch.”Iwinced.
“Standstill,Isaid!”
Itwasnotuncommonformyparents’employeestotreatmelikeaglorified,well-bredpoodle.Notthatitmattered.IwasgoingtokissAngeloBandinitonight.Morespecifically—Iwasgoingtolethimkissme
I’dbelyingifIsaidIhadn’tthoughtaboutkissingAngeloeverynightsinceIreturnedayearagofromtheSwissboardingschoolmyparentsthrewmein.Atnineteen,ArthurandSofiaRossihadofficiallydecidedtointroducemetotheChicagoansocietyandletmehavemypickofafuturehusbandfromthehundredsofeligibleItalian-AmericanmenwhowereaffiliatedwithTheOutfit.Tonightwasgoingtokick-startachainofeventsandsocialcalls,butIalreadyknewwhomIwantedtomarry.
PapaandMamahadinformedmethatcollegewasn’tinthecardsforme.Ineededtoattendtothetaskoffindingtheperfecthusband,seeingasIwasanonlychildandthesoleheirtotheRossibusinesses.Beingthefirstwomaninmyfamilytoeverearnadegreehadbeenadreamofmine,butIwasnowhereneardumbenoughtodefythem.Ourmaid,Clara,oftensaid,“Youdon’tneedtomeetahusband,Frankie.Youneedtomeetyourparents’expectations.”
Shewasn’twrong.Iwasbornintoagildedcage.Itwasspacious,butlocked,nonetheless.Tryingtoescapeitwasriskingdeath.Ididn’tlikebeingaprisoner,butIimaginedI’dlikeitmuchlessthanbeingsixfeetunder.AndsoI’dneverevendaredtopeekthroughthebarsofmyprisonandseewhatwasontheotherside.
Myfather,ArthurRossi,wastheheadofTheOutfit.
Thetitlesoundedpainfullymercilessforamanwho’dbraidedmyhair,taughtmehowtoplaythepiano,andevenshedafiercetearatmyLondonrecitalwhenIplayedthepianoinfrontofanaudienceofthousands.
Angelo—youguessedit—wastheperfecthusbandintheeyesofmyparents.Attractive,well-heeled,andthoroughlymoneyed.HisfamilyownedeverysecondbuildingonUniversityVillage,andmostofthepropertieswereusedbymyfatherforhismanyillicitprojects.
I’dknownAngelosincebirth.Wewatchedeachothergrowthewayflowersblossom.Slowly,yetfastatthesametime.Duringluxurioussummervacationsandunderthestrictsupervisionofourrelatives,MadeMen—menwhohadbeenformallyinducedasfullmembersofthemafia—andbodyguards.
Angelohadfoursiblings,twodogs,andasmilethatwouldmelttheItalianicecreaminyourpalm.Hisfatherrantheaccountingfirmthatworkedwithmyfamily,andwebothtookthesameannualSicilianvacationsinSyracuse.
Overtheyears,I’dwatchedasAngelo’ssoftblondcurlsdarkenedandweretamedwithatrim.Howhisglittering,ocean-blueeyesbecamelessplayfulandbroodier,hardenedbythethingshisfathernodoubthadshownandtaughthim.Howhisvoicehaddeepened,hisItalianaccentsharpened,andhebegantofillhisslenderboy-framewithmusclesandheightandconfidence.Hebecamemoremysteriousandlessimpulsive,spokelessoften,butwhenhedid,hiswordsliquefiedmyinsides.
Fallinginlovewassotragic.Nowonderitmadepeoplesosad.
AndwhileIlookedatAngeloasifhecouldmelticecream,Iwasn’ttheonlygirlwhomeltedfromhisconstantfrownwheneverhelookedatme.
ItmademesicktothinkthatwhenIwentbacktomyall-girls’Catholicschool,he’dgonebacktoChicagotohangoutandtalkandkissothergirls.Buthe’dalwaysmademefeellikeIwasTheGirl.Hesneakedflowersintomyhair,letmesipsomeofhiswinewhennoonewaslooking,andlaughedwithhiseyeswheneverIspoke.Whenhisyoungerbrotherstauntedme,heflickedtheirearsandwarnedthemoff.Andeverysummer,hefoundawaytostealamomentwithmeandkissthetipofmynose.
“FrancescaRossi,you’reevenprettierthanyouwerelastsummer.”
“Youalwayssaythat.”
“AndIalwaysmeanit.I’mnotinthehabitofwastingwords.”
“Tellmesomethingimportant,then.”
“You,mygoddess,willonedaybemywife.”
Itendedtoeverymemoryfromeachsummerlikeitwasasacredgarden,guardeditwithfencedaffection,andwateredituntilitgrewtoafairy-tale-likerecollection.
Morethananything,Irememberedhow,eachsummer,I’dholdmybreathuntilhesnuckintomyroom,ortheshopI’dvisit,orthetreeI’dreadabookunder.Howhebegantoprolongour“moments”astheyearstickedbyandweenteredadolescence,watchingmewithopenamusementasItried—andfailed—toactlikeoneoftheboyswhenIwassopainfullyandbrutallyagirl.
ItuckedthenotedeeperintomybrajustasVeronicadughermeatyfingersintomyivoryflesh,gatheringthecorsetbehindmefrombothendsandtighteningitaroundmywaist.
“Tobenineteenandgorgeousagain,”shebellowedratherdramatically.Thesilkycreamstringsstrainedagainstoneanother,andIgasped.OnlytheroyalcrustoftheItalianOutfitstillusedstylistsandmaidstogetreadyforanevent.Butasfarasmyparentswereconcerned—weweretheWindsors.“Rememberthedays,Alma?”
Thehairdressersnorted,pinningmybangssidewaysasshecompletedmywavychignonupdo.“Honey,getoffyourhighhorse.YouwereprettylikeaHallmarkcardwhenyouwerenineteen.Francesca,here,isTheCreationofAdam.Notthesameleague.Noteventhesameballgame.”
Ifeltmyskinflarewithembarrassment.Ihadasensethatpeopleenjoyedwhattheysawwhentheylookedatme,butIwasmortifiedbytheideaofbeauty.Itwaspowerfulyetslippery.AbeautifullywrappedgiftIwasboundtoloseoneday.Ididn’twanttoopenitorravishinitsperks.Itwouldonlymakepartingwayswithitmoredifficult.
TheonlypersonIwantedtonoticemyappearancetonightattheArtInstituteofChicagomasqueradewasAngelo.ThethemeofthegalawasGodsandGoddessesthroughtheGreekandRomanmythologies.IknewmostwomenwouldshowupasAphroditeorVenus.MaybeHeraorRhea,iforiginalitystruckthem.Notme.IwasNemesis,thegoddessofretribution.Angelohadalwayscalledmeadeity,andtonight,Iwasgoingtojustifymypetnamebyshowingupasthemostpowerfulgoddessofthemall.
Itmayhavebeensillyinthe21stcenturytowanttogetmarriedatnineteeninanarrangedmarriage,butinTheOutfit,weallbowedtotradition.Ourshappenedtobelongfirmlyinthe1800s.
“Whatwasinthenote?”Veronicaclippedasetofvelvetyblackwingstomybackafterslidingmydressovermybody.Itwasastraplessgownthecoloroftheclearsummerskywithmagnificentorganzabluescallops.Thetulletrailedtwofeetbehindme,poolinglikeanoceanatmymaids’feet.“Youknow,theoneyoustuckinyourcorsetforsafekeeping.”Shesnickered,slidinggoldenfeather-wingearringsintomyears.
“That”—Ismileddramatically,meetinghergazeinthemirrorinfrontofus,myhandflutteringovermychestwherethenoterested—“isthebeginningoftherestofmylife.”“IDIDN’TKNOWVENUSHADwings.”
AngelokissedthebackofmyhandatthedoorstotheArtInstituteofChicago.MyheartsankbeforeIpushedthesillydisappointmentaside.Hewasonlybaitingme.Besides,helookedsodazzlinglyhandsomeinhistuxtonight,Icouldforgiveanymistakehemade,shortofcoldheartedmurder.
Themen,unlikethewomenatthegala,woreauniformoftuxedosanddemi-masks.Angelocomplementedhissuitwithagolden-leafedVenetianmasquerademaskthattookovermostofhisface.Ourparentsexchangedpleasantrieswhilewestoodinfrontofeachother,drinkingineveryfreckleandinchoffleshononeanother.Ididn’texplainmyNemesiscostumetohim.We’dhavetime—anentirelifetime—todiscussmythology.Ijustneededtomakesurethattonightwe’dhaveanotherfleetingsummermoment.Onlythistime,whenhekissedmynose,I’dlookupandlockourlips,andfate,together.
IamCupid,shootinganarrowoflovestraightintoAngelo’sheart.
“YoulookmorebeautifulthanthelasttimeIsawyou.”Angeloclutchedthefabricofhissuitoverwherehisheartbeat,feigningsurrender.Everyonearoundushadgonequiet,andInoticedourfathersstaringatoneanotherconspiratorially.
Twopowerful,wealthyItalian-Americanfamilieswithstrongmutualties.
DonVitoCorleonewouldbeproud.
“YousawmeaweekagoatGianna’swedding.”IfoughttheurgetolickmylipsasAngelostaredmestraightintheeyes.
“Weddingssuityou,buthavingyoualltomyselfsuitsyoumore,”hesaidsimply,throwingmyheartintofifthgear,beforetwistingtowardmyfather.“Mr.Rossi,mayIescortyourdaughtertothetable?”
Myfatherclaspedmyshoulderfrombehind.Iwasonlyvaguelyawareofhispresenceasathickfogofeuphoriaengulfedme.“KeepyourhandswhereIcanseethem.”
“Always,sir.”
AngeloandIentwinedourarmstogetherasoneofthedozensofwaitersshowedustoourseatsatthetableclothedingoldandgracedwithfineblackchina.Angeloleanedandwhisperedinmyear,“Oratleastuntilyou’reofficiallymine.”
TheRossisandBandinishadbeenplacedafewseatsawayfromeachother—muchtomydisappointment,butnottomysurprise.Myfatherwasalwaysattheheartofeverypartyandpaidaprettypennytohavethebestseatseverywherehewent.Acrossfromme,thegovernorofIllinois,PrestonBishop,andhiswifefrettedoverthewinelist.NexttothemwasamanIdidn’tknow.Heworeasimpleall-blackdemi-maskandatuxthatmust’vecostafortunebyitsrichfabricandimpeccablecut.HewasseatednexttoaboisterousblondeinawhiteFrenchtullecamisolegown.OneofdozensofVenuseswhoarrivedinthesamenumber.
Themanlookedboredtodeath,swirlingthewhiskeyinhisglassasheignoredthebeautifulwomanbyhisside.Whenshetriedtoleaninandspeaktohim,heturnedtheotherwayandcheckedhisphone,beforecompletelylosinginterestinallthingscombinedandstaringatthewallbehindme.
Apangofsorrowslicedthroughme.Shedeservedbetterthanwhathewasoffering.Betterthanacold,forebodingmanwhosentchillsdownyourspinewithoutevenlookingatyou.
Ibethecouldkeepicecreamchilledfordaysonend.
“YouandAngeloseemtobetakenwithoneanother,”Paparemarkedconversationally,glancingatmyelbows,whichwereproppedonthetable.Iwithdrewthemimmediately,smilingpolitely.
“He’snice.”I’dsay‘supernice’,butmyfatherabsolutelydetestedmodernslang.
“Hefitsthepuzzle,”Papasnipped.“Heaskedifhecouldtakeyououtnextweek,andIsaidyes.WithMario’ssupervision,ofcourse.”
Ofcourse.MariowasoneofDad’sdozensofmusclemen.HehadtheshapeandIQofabrick.IhadafeelingPapawasn’tgoingtoletmesneakanywherehecouldn’tseemetonight,preciselybecauseheknewAngeloandIgotalongalittletoowell.Papawasoverallsupportive,buthewantedthingstobedoneacertainway.Awaymostpeoplemyagewouldfindbackwardormaybeevenborderlinebarbaric.Iwasn’tstupid.IknewIwasdiggingmyselfaholebynotfightingformyrightforeducationandgainfulemployment.IknewthatIshouldbetheonetodecidewhomIwantedtomarry.
ButIalsoknewthatitwashiswayorthehighway.Breakingfreecamewiththepriceofleavingmyfamilybehind—andmyfamilywasmyentireworld.
Otherthantradition,TheChicagoanOutfitwasvastlydifferentfromtheversiontheyportrayedinthemovies.Nogrittyalleyways,slimydrugaddicts,andbloodycombatswiththelaw.Nowadays,itwasallaboutmoneylaundering,acquisition,andrecycling.Myfatheropenlycourtedthepolice,mingledwithtop-tierpoliticians,andevenhelpedtheFBInailhigh-profilesuspects.
Infact,thatwaspreciselywhywewereheretonight.Papahadagreedtodonateastaggeringamountofmoneytoanewcharityfoundationdesignedtohelpat-riskyouthacquireahighereducation.
Oh,irony,myloyalfriend.
IsippedchampagneandstaredacrossthetableatAngelo,makingconversationwithagirlnamedEmilywhosefatherownedthebiggestbaseballstadiuminIllinois.Angelotoldherhewasabouttoenrollintoamaster’sprogramatNorthwestern,whilesimultaneouslyjoininghisfather’saccountingfirm.Thetruthwas,hewasgoingtolaundermoneyformyfatherandserveTheOutfituntiltherestofhisdays.IwasgettinglostintheirconversationwhenGovernorBishopturnedhisattentiontome.
“Andwhataboutyou,LittleRossi?Areyouattendingcollege?”
Everyonearounduswasconversingandlaughing,otherthanthemaninfrontofme.Hestillignoredhisdateinfavorofdowninghisdrinkanddisregardinghisphone,whichflashedwithahundredmessagesaminute.Nowthathelookedatme,healsolookedthroughme.Ivaguelywonderedhowoldhewas.Helookedolderthanme,butnotquitePapa’sage.
“Me?”Ismiledcourteously,myspinestiffening.Ismoothedmynapkinovermylap.Mymannerswereflawless,andIwaswellversedinmindlessconversations.I’dlearnedLatin,etiquette,andgeneralknowledgeatschool.Icouldentertainanyone,fromworldleaderstoapieceofchewedgum.“Oh,Ijustgraduatedayearago.I’mnowworkingtowardexpandingmysocialrepertoireandformingconnectionshereinChicago.”
“Inotherwords,youneitherworknorstudy,”themaninfrontofmecommentedflatly,knockinghisdrinkbackandshootingmyfatheraviciousgrin.IfeltmyearspinkingasIblinkedatmyfatherforhelp.Hemustn’thaveheardbecauseheseemedtolettheremarkbrushhimby.
“JesusChrist,”theblondwomannexttotherudemangrowled,reddening.Hewavedheroff.
“We’reamongfriends.Noonewouldleakthis.”
Leakthis?Whothehellwashe?
Iperkedup,takingasipofmydrink.“ThereareotherthingsIdo,ofcourse.”
“Doshare,”hetauntedinmockfascination.Oursideofthetablefellsilent.Itwasagrimkindofsilence.Thetypethathintedacringeworthymomentwasuponus.
“Ilovecharities…”
“That’snotanactualactivity.Whatdoyoudo?”
Verbs,Francesca.Thinkverbs.
“Iridehorsesandenjoygardening.Iplaythepiano.I…ah,shopforallthethingsIneed.”Iwasmakingitworse,andIknewit.Buthewouldn’tletmediverttheconversationelsewhere,andnooneelsesteppedintomyrescue.
“Thosearehobbiesandluxuries.What’syourcontributiontosociety,MissRossi,otherthansupportingtheUSeconomybybuyingenoughclothestocoverNorthAmerica?”
Utensilsclutteredonfinechina.Awomangasped.Theleftoversofchatterstoppedcompletely.
“That’senough,”myfatherhissed,hisvoicefrosty,hiseyesdead.Iflinched,butthemaninthemaskremainedcomposed,straight-spinedand,ifanything,gailyamusedattheturntheconversationhadtaken.
“Itendtoagree,Arthur.IthinkI’velearnedeverythingthereistoknowaboutyourdaughter.Andinaminute,noless.”
“Haveyouforgottenyourpoliticalandpublicdutiesathome,alongwithyourmanners?”myfatherremarked,foreverwellmannered.
Themangrinnedwolfishly.“Onthecontrary,Mr.Rossi.IthinkIrememberthemquiteclearly,muchtoyourfuturedisappointment.”
PrestonBishopandhiswifeextinguishedthesocialdisasterbyaskingmemorequestionsaboutmyupbringinginEurope,myrecitals,andwhatIwantedtostudy(botany,thoughIwasn’tstupidenoughtopointoutthatcollegewasnotinmycards).Myparentssmiledatmyflawlessconduct,andeventhewomannexttotherudestrangertentativelyjoinedtheconversation,talkingaboutherEuropeantripduringhergapyear.Shewasajournalistandhadtraveledallovertheworld.Butnomatterhowniceeveryonewas,Icouldn’tshaketheterriblehumiliationI’dsufferedunderthesharptongueofherdate,who—bytheway—gotbacktostaringatthebottomofhisfreshlypouredtumblerwithanexpressionthatoozedboredom.
Icontemplatedtellinghimhedidn’tneedanotherdrinkbutprofessionalhelpcouldworkwonders.
Afterdinnercamethedancing.Eachwomaninattendancehadadancecardfilledwithnamesofthosewhomadeanundisclosedbid.Alltheprofitswenttocharity.
Iwenttocheckmycardonthelongtablecontainingthenamesofthewomenwho’dattended.MyheartbeatfasterasIscannedit,spottingAngelo’sname.MyexhilarationwasquicklyreplacedwithdreadwhenIrealizedmycardwasfulltothebrimwithItalian-soundingnames,muchlongerthantheothersscatteredaroundit,andIwouldlikelyspendtherestofthenightdancinguntilmyfeetwerenumb.SneakingakisswithAngelowasgoingtobetricky.
Myfirstdancewaswithafederaljudge.ThenaragingItalian-AmericanplayboyfromNewYork,whotoldmehe’dcomeherejusttoseeiftherumorsaboutmylooksweretrue.Hekissedthehemofmyskirtlikeamedievaldukebeforehisfriendsdraggedhisdrunkenbuttbacktotheirtable.Pleasedon’taskmyfatherforadate,Igroanedinwardly.Heseemedlikethekindofrichtoolwho’dmakemylifesomevariationofTheGodfather.ThethirdwasGovernorBishop,andthefourthwasAngelo.Itwasarelativelyshortwaltz,butItriednottoletitdampenmymood.
“Theresheis.”Angelo’sfacelitupwhenheapproachedmeandthegovernorforourdance.
Chandeliersseepedfromtheceiling,andthemarblefloorsangwiththeclinkingheelsofthedancers.Angelodippedhisheadtomine,takingmyhandinhis,andplacinghisotherhandonmywaist.
“Youlookbeautiful.Evenmoresothantwohoursago,”hebreathed,sendingwarmairtomyface.Tiny,velvetybutterflywingstickledatmyheart.
“Goodtoknow,becauseIcan’tbreatheinthisthing.”Ilaughed,myeyeswildlysearchinghis.Iknewhecouldn’tkissmenow,andadashofpanicwashedoverthebutterflies,drowningthemindread.Whatifwecouldn’tcatcheachotheratall?Thenthenotewouldbeuseless.
Thiswoodenboxwillsavemeorkillme.
“I’dlovetogiveyoumouth-to-mouthwheneveryou’reoutofbreath.”Heskimmedmyface,histhroatbobbingwithaswallow.“ButIwouldstartwithasimpledatenextweek,ifyouareinterested.”
“I’minterested,”Isaidmuchtooquickly.Helaughed,hisforeheadfallingtomine.
“Wouldyouliketoknowwhen?”
“Whenwe’regoingout?”Iaskeddumbly.
“That,too.Friday,bytheway.ButImeantwhenwasthepointinwhichIknewyouweregoingtobemywife?”heaskedwithoutmissingabeat.Icouldbarelybringmyselftonod.Iwantedtocry.IfelthishandtighteningaroundmywaistandrealizedIwaslosingmybalance.
“Itwasthesummeryouturnedsixteen.Iwastwenty.Cradlesnatcher.”Helaughed.“WearrivedatourSiciliancabinlate.IwasrollingmysuitcasebytherivernexttoouradjoinedcabinswhenIspottedyouthreadingflowersintoacrownonthedock.Youweresmilingattheflowers,soprettyandelusive,andIdidn’twanttobreakthespellbytalkingtoyou.Thenthewindswipedtheflowerseverywhere.Youdidn’tevenhesitate.Youjumpedheadfirstintotheriverandretrievedeverysingleflowerthathaddriftedfromthecrown,eventhoughyouknewitwouldn’tsurvive.Whydidyoudothat?”
“Itwasmymother’sbirthday,”Iadmitted.“Failurewasnotanoption.Thebirthdaycrownturnedoutpretty,bytheway.”
Myeyesdriftedtotheuselessspacebetweenourchests.
“Failureisnotanoption,”Angelorepeatedthoughtfully.
“Youkissedmynoseintherestroomofthatrestaurantthatday,”Ipointedout.
“Iremember.”
“Areyougoingtostealanose-kisstonight?”Iasked.
“Iwouldneverstealfromyou,Frankie.I’dbuymykissfromyouatfullprice,downtothepenny,”hesparredgood-naturedly,winkingatme,“butI’mafraidthatbetweenyourshockinglyfullcardandmyobligationstominglewitheveryMadeManwhowasluckyenoughtosnatchaninvitationtothisthing,araincheckmayberequired.Don’tworry,I’vealreadytoldMarioI’dtiphimgenerouslyfortakinghistimefetchingourcarfromthevaletonFriday.”
Thetrickleofpanicwasnowafull-blowndownpourofterror.Ifhewasn’tgoingtokissmetonight,thenote’spredictionwouldgotowaste.
“Please?”Itriedtosmilebrighter,maskingmyterrorwitheagerness.“Mylegscouldusethebreak.”
Hebithisfistandlaughed.“Somanysexualinnuendos,Francesca.”
Ididn’tknowifIwantedtocrywithdespairorscreamwithfrustration.Probablyboth.Thesonghadn’tendedyet,andwewerestillswayingineachother’sarms,lulledinsideadarkspell,whenIfeltafirm,stronghandplasteredonthebarepartofmyupperback.
“Ibelieveit’smyturn.”Iheardthelowvoiceboomingbehindme.Iturnedaroundwithascowltofindtherudemanintheblackdemi-maskstaringbackatme.
Hewastall—six-foot-threeorfour—withtousledink-blackhairsmoothedbacktotantalizingperfection.Hissinewy,hardphysiquewasslimyetbroad.Hiseyeswerepebblegray,slanted,andmenacing,andhistoo-squarejawframedhisbowedlipsperfectly,givinghisotherwisetoo-handsomeappearanceagrittyedge.Ascornful,impersonalsmirkgracedhislipsandIwantedtoslapitoffhisface.HewasobviouslystillamusedwithwhathethoughtwasabunchofnonsenseIspatoutatthedinnertable.AndweclearlyhadanaudienceasInoticedhalftheroomwasnowglaringatuswithopeninterest.Thewomenlookedathimlikehungrysharksinafishbowl.Themenhadhalf-curvedgrinsofhilarity.
“Mindyourhands,”Angelosnarledwhenthesongchanged,andhecouldnolongerkeepmeinhisarms.
“Mindyourbusiness,”themandeadpanned.
“Areyousureyou’reonmycard?”Iturnedtothemanwithapoliteyetdistantsmile.IwasstilldisorientedfromtheexchangewithAngelowhenthestrangerpulledmeagainsthishardbodyandpressedapossessivehandlowerthansociallyacceptableonmyback,asecondfromgropingmybutt.
“Answerme,”Ihissed.
“Mybidonyourcardwasthehighest,”hereplieddryly.
“Thebidsareanonymous.Youdon’tknowhowmuchotherpeoplehavepaid,”Ikeptmylipspursedtokeepmyselffromyelling.
“Iknowit’snowhereneartherealmofwhatthisdanceisworth.”
Un-freaking-believable.
Webegantowaltzaroundtheroomasothercoupleswerenotonlyspinningandminglingbutalsostealingenviousglancesatus.Naked,rawoglesthattoldmethatwhomevertheblondehe’dcometothemasqueradewithwas,shewasn’thiswife.AndthatImighthavebeenalltherageinTheOutfit,buttherudemanwasinhighdemand,too.
Iwasstiffandcoldinhisarms,buthedidn’tseemtonotice—ormind.Heknewhowtowaltzbetterthanmostmen,buthewastechnical,andlackedwarmthandAngelo’splayfulness.
“Nemesis.”Hetookmebysurprise,hisrapaciousgazestrippingmebare.“Distributinggleeanddealingmisery.SeemsatoddswiththesubmissivegirlwhoentertainedBishopandhishorseywifeatthetable.”
Ichokedonmyownsaliva.Didhejustcallthegovernor’swifehorsey?Andmesubmissive?Ilookedaway,ignoringtheaddictivescentofhiscologne,andthewayhismarblebodyfeltagainstmine.
“Nemesisismyspiritanimal.ShewastheonetolureNarcissustoapoolwherehesawhisownreflectionanddiedofvanity.Prideisaterribleillness.”Iflashedhimatauntingsmirk.
“Someofuscouldusecatchingit.”Hebaredhisstraightwhiteteeth.
“Arroganceisadisease.Compassionisthecure.Mostgodsdidn’tlikeNemesis,butthat’sbecauseshehadabackbone.”
“Doyou?”Hearchedadarkeyebrow.
“DoI…?”Iblinked,thecourteousgrinonmyfacecrumpling.Hewasevenruderwhenwewerealone.
“Haveabackbone,”heprovided.Hestaredatmesoboldlyandintimately,itfeltlikehebreathedfireintomysoul.Iwantedtostepoutofhistouchandjumpintoapoolfullofice.
“Ofcourse,Ido,”Iresponded,myspinestiffening.“What’swiththemanners?Wereyouraisedbywildcoyotes?”
“Givemeanexample,”hesaid,ignoringmyquip.Iwasbeginningtodrawawayfromhim,buthejerkedmebackintohisarms.Theglitzyballroomdistortedintoabackdrop,andeventhoughIwasstartingtonoticethatthemanbehindthedemi-maskwasunusuallybeautiful,theuglinessofhisbehaviorwastheonlythingthatstoodout.
Iamawarriorandalady…andasanepersonwhocandealwiththishorridman.
“IreallylikeAngeloBandini.”Idroppedmyvoice,slicingmygazefromhiseyesandtowardthetablewhereAngelo’sfamilyhadbeenseated.Myfatherwassittingafewseatsaway,staringatuscoldly,surroundedbyMadeMenwhochattedaway.
“Andsee,inmyfamily,wehaveatraditiondatingbacktengenerations.Priortoherwedding,aRossibrideistoopenawoodenchest—carvedandmadebyawitchwholivedinmyancestors’Italianvillage—andreadthreenoteswrittentoherbythelastRossigirltomarry.It’skindofagoodluckcharmmixedwithatalismanandabitoffortunetelling.Istolethechesttonightandopenedoneofthenotes,allsoIcouldrushfate.ItsaidthattonightIwasgoingtobekissedbytheloveofmylife,andwell…”Idrewmylowerlipintomymouthandsuckedit,peeringundermyeyelashesatAngelo’semptyseat.Themanstaredatmestoically,asthoughIwasaforeignfilmhecouldn’tunderstand.“I’mgoingtokisshimtonight.”
“That’syourbackbone?”
“WhenIhaveanambition,Igoforit.”
Aconceitedfrowncrinkledhismask,asiftosayIwasacompleteanduttermoron.Ilookedhimstraightintheeye.Myfathertaughtmethatthebestwaytodealwithmenlikehimwastoconfront,notrun.Because,thisman?He’dchase.
Yes,Ibelieveinthattradition.
No,Idon’tcarewhatyouthink.
Thenitoccurredtomethatoverthecourseoftheevening,I’dofferedhimmyentirelifestoryanddidn’tevenaskforhisname.Ididn’twanttoknow,butetiquettedemandedthatIatleastpretend.
“Iforgottoaskwhoyouare.”
“That’sbecauseyoudidn’tcare,”hequipped.
Heregardedmewiththesametaciturnity.Itwasanoxymoronoffierceboredom.Isaidnothingbecauseitwastrue.
“SenatorWolfeKeaton.”Thewordsrolledoffhistonguesharply.
“Aren’tyoualittleyoungtobeasenator?”IcomplimentedhimonprincipaltoseeifIcoulddefrostthethicklayerofassholehe’dbuiltaroundhimself.Somepeoplejustneededatighthug.Aroundtheneck.Wait,Iwasactuallythinkingaboutchokinghim.Notthesamething.
“Thirty.CelebratedinSeptember.GotelectedthisNovember.”
“Congratulations.”Icouldn’tcareless.“Youmustbethrilled.”
“Overthegoddamnmoon.”Hedrewmeevencloser,pullingmybodyflushagainsthis.
“CanIaskyouapersonalquestion?”Iclearedmythroat.
“OnlyifIcandothesame,”heshot.
Iconsideredit.
“Youcan.”
Hedippedhischindown,givingmepermissiontocontinue.
“Whydidyouasktodancewithme,nottomentionpaidgoodmoneyforthedubiouspleasure,ifyouobviouslythinkeverythingIstandforisshallowanddistasteful?”
Forthefirsttimetonight,somethingthatresembledasmilecrossedhisface.Itlookedunnatural,almostillusory.Idecidedhewasnotinthehabitoflaughingoften.Oratall.
“Iwantedtoseeformyselfiftherumorsaboutyourbeautyweretrue.”
Thatagain.Iresistedtheurgetostomponhisfoot.Menweresuchsimplecreatures.But,Iremindedmyself,AngelothoughtIwasprettyevenbefore.WhenIstillhadbraces,ablanketoffrecklescoveringmynoseandcheeks,andunruly,mousy-brownhairIhadyettolearnhowtotame.
“Myturn,”hesaid,withoutvoicinghisverdictonmylooks.“HaveyoupickedoutnamesforyourchildrenwithyourBanginiyet?”
Itwasanoddquestion,onethatwasnodoubtdesignedtomakefunofme.Iwantedtoturnaroundandwalkawayfromhimrightthereandthen.Butthemusicwasfading,anditwasstupidtothrowinthetowelonanencounterthatwouldendshortly.Besides,everythingthatcameoutofmymouthseemedtobotherhim.Whyruinaperfectstrike?
“Bandini.Andyes,Ihave,asamatteroffact.Christian,Joshua,andEmmaline.”
Okay,Imight’vepickedthesexes,too.Thatwaswhathappenedwhenyouhadtoomuchtimeonyourhands.
Nowthestrangerinthedemi-maskwasgrinningfully,andifmyangerdidn’tmakeitfeelasthoughpurevenomranthroughmyveins,Icouldappreciatehiscommercial-worthydentalhygiene.Insteadofbowinghisheadandkissingmyhand,asthebrochureforthemasqueradehadindicatedwascompulsory,hetookastepbackandsalutedmeinmockery.“Thankyou,FrancescaRossi.”
“Forthedance?”
“Fortheinsight.”
ThenightbecameprogressivelyworseafterthecurseddancewithSenatorKeaton.Angelowassittingatatablewithagroupofmen,lockedinaheatedargument,asIwastossedfromonepairofarmstotheother,minglingandsmilingandlosingmyhopeandsanity,onesongatatime.Icouldn’tbelievetheabsurdityofmysituation.Istolemymother’swoodenbox—theoneandonlythingI’deverstolen—toreadmynoteandgetthecouragetoshowAngelohowIfelt.Ifhewasn’tgoingtokissmetonight—ifnoonewasgoingtokissmetonight—didthatmeanIwasdoomedtolivealovelesslife?
Threehoursintothemasquerade,Imanagedtoslipouttheentranceofthemuseumandstoodonthewideconcretesteps,breathinginthecrispspringnight.Mylastdancehadtoleaveearly.Thankfully,hiswifehadgoneintolabor.
Ihuggedmyownarms,bravingtheChicagowindandlaughingsadlyatnothinginparticular.Oneyellowcabzippedbythetallbuildings,andacouplehuddledtogetherwerezigzagginggiddilytotheirdestination.
Click.
Itsoundedlikesomeoneshutdowntheuniverse.Thelamppostsalongthestreetturnedoffunexpectedly,andallthelightfadedfromview.
Itwasmorbidlybeautiful;theonlylightvisiblewastheshimmeringlonelycrescentabovemyhead.Ifeltanarmwraparoundmywaistfrombehind.Thetouchwasconfidentandstrong,curvingaroundmybodylikethemanitbelongedtohadstudieditforawhile.
Foryears.
Iturnedaround.Angelo’sgoldandblackmasquerademaskstaredbackatme.Alltheairleftmylungs,mybodyturningintogoo,slackinginhisarmswithrelief.
“Youcame,”Iwhispered.
Histhumbbrushedmycheeks.Asoft,wordlessnod.
Yes.
Heleaneddownandpressedhislipstomine.Myheartsquealedinsidemychest.
Shutthefrontdoor.Thisishappening.
Igrabbedtheedgesofhissuit,pullinghimcloser.I’dimaginedourkisscountlesstimesbefore,butI’dneverexpectedittofeellikethis.Likehome.Likeoxygen.Likeforever.Hisfulllipsflutteredovermine,sendinghotairintomymouth,andheexplored,andnipped,andbitmylowerlipbeforeclaimingmymouthwithhis,slantinghisheadsidewaysanddippingdownforaferociouscaress.Heopenedhismouth,histonguepeekingoutandswipingmine.Ireturnedthefavor.Hedrewmeclose,devouringmeslowlyandpassionately,pressinghishandtothesmallofmybackandgroaningintomymouthlikeIwaswaterinthedesert.Imoanedintohislipsandlickedeverycornerofhismouthwithzeroexpertise,feelingembarrassed,aroused,andmoreimportantly,free.
Free.Inhisarms.Wasthereanythingmoreliberatingthanfeelingloved?
Iswayedinthesecurityofhisarms,kissinghimforagoodthreeminutesbeforemysensescrawledbackintomyfoggybrain.HetastedofwhiskeyandnotthewineAngelohadbeendrinkingallnight.Hewassignificantlytallerthanme—tallerthanAngelo—evenifnotbymuch.Thenhisaftershavedriftedintomynose,andIrememberedtheicypebbleeyes,rawpower,anddarksensualitythatlickedflamesofangerinsidemyguts.Itookaslowbreathandfelttheburninsideme.
No.
Itoremylipsfromhisandstumbledback,trippingoverastair.Hegrabbedmywristandyankedmebacktopreventmyfallbutmadenoefforttoresumeourkiss.
“You!”Icriedout,myvoiceshaking.Withperfecttiming,thestreetlampscamebacktolife,illuminatingthesharpcurvesofhisface.
Angelohadsoftcurvesoveradefinedjaw.Thismanwasallharshstreaksandcutedges.Helookednothinglikemycrush,evenwithademi-maskon.
Howdidhedothat?Whydidhedothat?Tearspooledinmyeyes,butIheldthemback.Ididn’twanttogivethiscompletestrangerthesatisfactionofseeingmecrumple.
“Howdareyou,”Isaidquietly,bitingmycheeksuntilthetasteofwarmbloodfilledmymouthtokeepfromscreaming.
Hetookastepback,slidingAngelo’smaskoff—Godknowshowhegothishandsonit—andtossingitonthestairslikeitwascontaminated.Hisunmaskedfacewasunveiledlikeapieceofart.Brutalandintimidating,itdemandedmyattention.Itookastepsideways,puttingmorespacebetweenus.
“How?Easily.”Hewassodismissive;hewasflirtingwithopendisdain.“Asmartgirl,however,wouldhaveaskedforthewhy.”
“Thewhy?”Iscoffed,refusingtoletthelastfiveminutesregister.I’dbeenkissedbysomeoneelse.Angelo—accordingtomyfamilytradition—wasnotgoingtobetheloveofmylife.Thisjerk,however…
Nowitwashisturntotakeastepsideways.Hisbroadbackhadbeenblockingtheentrancetothemuseum,soIfailedtoseewhowasstandingthere,hisshouldersslack,hismouthagape,hisfacegloriouslyunmasked,drinkinginthescene.
Angelotookonelookatmyswollenlips,turnedaround,andstalkedbackinwithEmilyrunningafterhim.
TheWolfewasnolongerinsheep’sclothingashemadehiswayupthestairs,givingmehisback.Whenhereachedthedoors,hisdatepouredoutasifoncue.Wolfetookherarminhisandledherdownstairs,notsparingmealookasIwiltedonthecementstairs.Icouldhearhisdatemurmuringsomething,hisdryresponsetoher,andherlaughterringingintheairlikeawindchime.
Whenthedoortotheirlimoslammedshut,mylipsstungsobadIhadtotouchthemtomakesurehedidn’tsetthemonfire.Thepoweroutagewasn’tcoincidental.Hedidit.
Hetookthepower.Mypower.
Iyankedthenoteoutofmycorsetandthrewitagainstthestair,stompingoveritlikeatantrum-pronekid.
WolfeKeatonwasakissthief.
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