“I was going to schedule a call with his parents so we can learn a bit more. They’re willing to fly here from California to talk to you. Are you interested, hypothetically?”
“I am, but … I’ve had a lot of treatments, Alex, and they’ve all seemed promising in the beginning. My mind is tired and my body is beaten. I don’t want to die on a table on the small hope of a longer life. I just want to live to see you get married.”
My fingers freeze over the keyboard.
Ophelia at the altar. Flowers in her hand, raindrops in her hair. Some ridiculous, thrifted, too-big, probably brown dress. Stuttered vows from nervous lips, and a lifetime of peace.
Even in my imagination, it’s hazy. Some distant future I’ll never deserve. I could dream of it until the last threads of sanity have slipped through my fingers.
But it’ll stay a dream. I haven’t the heart to tell my mother that, though. Or maybe I just can’t quite admit to myself that I’ve given up on it yet.
I start typing out an email in reply, ignoring the sixty new emails I’ve received since leaving the office. “I’ll put a call in their calendar.”
INGRID AND EMILY—THEhousekeeper and the nanny—join Charlotte, Evie, Mia, Josie, Éléanor, and me at the table in the all-white dining room, the conversation surprisingly cheery. Ingrid is animatedly complaining about her husband, Russell, which is a terrible idea because Russell is our driver and Josie repeats everything she hears verbatim. But there’s no stopping her reenactment of Russell’s loud chewing, and it’s worth it to hear the girls laughing.
Ingrid is one of those people: like if home-cooked sauce with way too much oil, hugs that smell like old perfume, and coffee breath managed to manifest themselves into a human. And I mean that as a compliment. She’s worked here for years under the guise of being a housekeeper but doing so much more.
When my father would come home and take his frustrations about the supply chain out on me, she’d clumsily bumble into the kitchen long past her bedtime, taking half an hour to make herself a cup of tea just so he’d get bored enough to leave me alone.
And Josie won’t eat a sandwich that Ingrid didn’t make, so there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to keep her around.
Fleur and Freddie come down when we’re all halfway through our dinner. Freddie is still pulling his Ralph Lauren quarter zip on when they come in, which makes me want to put my knife in his retina. His blond hair is slicked back, his chinos perfectly pressed. Just another Shawn Miller lookalike.Idiot.I give him a brief nod, for Fleur’s sake.
“Hey, bro. Loved your shareholder statement yesterday.”
“Cheers,” I mutter, even though I want to tell him to find a more impressive hobby than watching press conferences at eighteen years old. “Take a seat. There’s enough food.”
He does, flicking his stupid hair out of his eyes.
“So, are you thinking of college, Freddie?”
“Nah, probably not. I’ll probably start a business, or a podcast, or something.”
Fucking hell. Code red. He’s a wannabe podcaster.
“I think you should both at least consider it,” I suggest.
Fleur rolls her eyes, as tired of this conversation as I am. “Shut up, Alex.”
“Fleur!” scolds Mia, pushing back her curtain of thick, dark hair to glare at her. I shake my head at her, trying to defuse the situation. Mia, more than any of us, has inherited Dad’s stubbornness, never one to turn down a confrontation.
“You’re not my parent, Mia.” Her gaze lands on me. Fleur’s interest in any form of relationship with me died the day I, in her mind, chose Green over her and my sisters when the article went live. “And neither are you.”
“Legally, I am.” For now. Until Mom is better.
Mom’s not getting better.
“I bet you love that, don’t you? A chance to turn intohim.”
“Fleur,” I warn, tone sharp.
“But you are, aren’t you?” She checks her watch. It’s well past 9 p.m. Way too late for a seven-year-old to be eating. “Late dinner, again? Another shareholder to appease? Another meeting running over?”
“Fleur,” snaps Mia, slamming down her cutlery. “You should be grateful he’s trying to hold this family together.”
“He’s coming home late, putting Green first. He chose the share price over us when we needed him most. When we could’vediedbecause of our own father, he chose to run to the New York office. Sound familiar?”
The food turns to ash in my mouth. Little pieces of the monster inside me slip into my bloodstream, but just like they always have, they stay just there. I couldn’t lash out at them even if I wanted to, can’t let that black cloud fill this dining room and suffocate my sisters. So, it eats me from the inside out instead.
