Her passport is gone, and so are the kids’.
I drop heavily into my chair, despair filling me as I realize just how planned out this whole thing was. And the timing of me losing my job…
She wouldn’t be that vindictive, would she?
That isn’t my Lynnie. My wife is docile, soft, without a single hard edge. She is peace. But the woman who confronted us tonight was wholly unfamiliar, her blue eyes as hard as glass—sharp but unbreakable.
Refusing to believe that the woman I love would be that deliberately cruel, I leave the office and head back to our room, hating how empty the house feels without her and the kids. I’m not home as often as I could be, but whenever I am here, they always are, too. They fill the space with their presence, their noise, and now… There’s nothing but emptiness.
I sit on the edge ofourbed, resting a hand on the space where Lynley should be lying, trying to figure out my next move. I told Caroline I was getting her sister back, but I’ve got no fucking idea where to even start.
“I just don’t knowthat baseball is the best choice for Mason.”
I stare down at the coffee in my hand, wishing it were laced with something stronger. “He enjoys it,” I say tonelessly.
Francine Delcourt, my mother, clucks her tongue, plucking up another sugar cube and dropping it into her milky-white coffee. “Maybe he could take up tennis. The coach down at the club does children’s lessons.”
I flick a look across to her. “What’s the difference between using a tennis racket or a baseball bat?”
She narrows her eyes at my tone. “Well, one certainly doesn’t involve sliding around in the dirt, does it?” I roll my eyes, but don’t argue, because there’s no winning with her when she’s like this. She purses her lips, face lined with disapproval. “I did tell Lynley all this. And yet, Mason was telling me all about his baseball game on our last FaceCall.”
“FaceTime,” I mutter, finishing my coffee and slumping back against the uncomfortable settee. I’d be better off sitting on a piece of wood. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s golfing with some big-time lawyer. Teddy something.”
“Teddy Gallagher.”
“That’s it!” She shakes her head. “Fancy calling your childTeddy. I can’t imagine what his parents were thinking.”
“His actual name is Theodore, Mother.”
She pauses with her cup halfway to her mouth, eyes flaring with surprise. “He chooses to go by Teddy? Goodness. Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” She falls quiet, watching me assessingly. “You don’t usually visit me during the week.”
She’s stating a fact, but I hear the unasked question. I keep my expression neutral, giving her a cool look. “I’ve taken some time off this week.”
“Oh.” Her thin brows lift high. “That’s not like you, but everyone needs time off, I suppose. Perhaps you could encourage Lynley to start thinking about going back to work. The children are both in school now, and the responsibility shouldn’t fall entirely on your shoulders. The days of women staying home are long gone, don’t you think?”
My mouth twitches. I’m not sure that sitting on charity boards and hosting luncheons counts as paid employment, which makes her stance…interesting. I finish my coffee, watching as she stirs another sugar cube into hers, the silver spoon clinking against the side of the cup. The silence stretches out between us, but I won’t be the one to break it.
Eventually, she puts her spoon down and sips her drink, grimacing delicately, and then she sets the cup down on the table beside her with finality. “What’s going on, Christopher?”
I tap my fingers against the armrest, considering my words. “Did Dad ever cheat on you?”
She blanches, her cheeks going as white as her coffee, before her expression pinches. “What kind of question is that? Honestly, Christopher?—”
“Did he?” I persist. “I know you two aren’t exactly a love match.”
Something flashes through her eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for me to catch. “I see.” She sighs heavily, and I am not about to ask for clarification on what she thinks she sees. “Your father had his…dalliances. But he was discreet, which is all I asked of him.” The emphasis on “discreet” hits as hard as she means it to, but I bury the wince down. “Is there something you need to tell me, Christopher?” She prods. “As always, I’d rather be prepared now than be shocked later.”
Francine Delcourt is all about image—the family’s and her own. I know she’s already spinning a narrative, strategizing what kind of statement she’ll need to put out to bank any fires I’ve set.Anything to keep society believing we’re the perfect family.The thought makes my lips curl up.
I lower my lashes, hiding the look in my eyes. “I wasn’t asking for me. I was just curious about Dad.”
She makes a small, disbelieving sound, but lets the conversation go. We make polite small talk for another twenty minutes before I tell her that I need to collect the kids from school. As she walks me out, her heels clacking loudly against the marble flooring, she remarks dispassionately, “You’d think that, with Lynley’s lack of employment, she wouldn’t be delegating such mundane tasks to you, especially if you’re trying to take some time to relax.”
Lynley has never been the wife my mother dreamed I’d marry. She doesn’t have the finances or connections that could elevate the Delcourts to the next level, and my mother has never quite forgiven her for that. Mom will never believe that Mase’s conception wasn’t a carefully orchestrated trap, and I gave up on convincing her a long time ago. I think she did finally accept that my wife wasn’t going anywhere around the time Ginny was born. One child was a mistake, but two was a choice, and apparently, that made it permanent enough for her to accept.
Honestly, if Lynley had just danced to my mother’s tune, it would’ve made life more pleasant for all of us. Instead, she’d always bucked against Mom’s expectations, forcing me into the role of middleman.
