“And you don’t think I deserve better than him?” I asked. The atmosphere thickened. Tears threatened to come to my eyes. “That I don’t deserve to be demeaned every time I have an opinion? That I don’t deserve to build a career for myself because he wants me to make a home for him? That I don’t deserve to be told the truth of our marriage and how it’s been a disaster since we made our vows?”
Nancy’s face hardened. “This is absolute nonsense. I would have expected your daughter to at least learn some respect for her mother-in-law, Elise.”
“You mean the misogynistic, sexist, and shallow mother-in-law, right?” I asked, moving to take a step toward her. However, my mother had a death grip on the back of my dress, holding me in place.
“Am I supposed to be offended by my son’s lazy wife hurdling insults my way?”
“Am I supposed to be silent and obedient while you tear me down for the hundredth time? If Beckham wasn’t here, I could only imagine how much more intolerable you would be.”
“And if thatmanweren’t here, I would only assume you would be preparing to arrive with your husband.”
My father returned.
“Seems as though the two of you have already run into a bit of an issue,” he muttered, voice laced with anger and glaring right at me.
Beckham and Patrick were back too.
Patrick said, “Why don’t we all take a trip to the patio for a breather? I’m sure that would calm things down a bit.”
But I couldn’t help myself. It was now or never. As if the words were burning to exit my mouth, I sputtered:
“Gavin and I are getting a divorce.”
Beckham
Passing by my flower, I had to hold in my smile as her body trembled slightly at my touch.
The tension between us even in this intense environment was undeniable, inescapable, but I had other matters to attend to for the time being.
Eric Hart. The man who raised Rosenna. The man whofailedher.
They had some similarities, though she was the spitting image of her mother while Eric seemed to cast his shadow over her in other ways.
Following her father down the steps of Gavin’s family home, we entered the basement that resembled a small luxury lounge, a man’s sanctuary, a place where deals were made over fine wine and smoke-filled conversations.
Patrick walked over the wall of wine, looking at it inquisitively. “Any requests?”
Eric looked over to me with a smile. “You’re our guest, Garcia. Please, by all means.”
Leaning against the bar, I looked over the average collection. “The 1980 Château would be a modest start to brunch.”
Patrick gave an approving nod, reaching for the bottle as Eric observed me with quiet interest.
“You sure know your wine, Garcia.”
I could only give a hint of a smile as I responded truthfully, “Rosenna knows better than me.”
Seeing her face light up at my collection as she picked out what would go well with our dinner was enough for me to keep an overstock of her rather expensive favorites.
Eric’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes at my comment. Seemed I’d struck a nerve. His fingers twitched around the glass Patrick poured him, but he hid it well. Probably didn’t like that I knew his daughter’s tastes better than he did.
“Don’t let Nancy hear you,” Patrick mused. “She’ll go on again about how your daughter is a certified drunk.”
My mood darkened, my hand tightening around my glass. Eric, on the other hand, let out a chuckle.
“Why do you think I never let Elise drink? If she did I wouldn’t know what to do with her.” He laughed. Patrick joined in.
I was silent.
