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“So, you were going to outrun your legacy by making different choices,” he says knowingly.
I slant my eyes his way. “I see you’re familiar with this particular type of self-medication?”
He smiles. “Oh yeah. I think most people who don’t have rosy happy childhoods grow up trying to avoid reliving their nightmare.”
“My life isn’t a nightmare, just very different from what I used to hope for. But I chose it all.” I say.
“Because Marcel swept you off your feet?”
I laugh dryly. “Hardly.”
“So why did you marry him?”
It’s a Pandora’s box of a question. I can’t tell him the sequence of events that flowed from the night in the bakery and how it set the wheels in motion that led me to the altar. So, I settle for the bare bones, but still awful truth.
“To make my grandfather happy.”
“That’s a big decision to make just to please someone else.”
There’s no judgement in his eyes or his voice. But I know what I sound like and no one can hear that without thinking it’s stupid or reckless or pathetic, or all three.
“He raised us after my father died. Well, with my mom, but he was more maternal than she is. And he was such a dynamo.” I smile at the memory of him bounding off to work like he was twenty-five instead of seventy. Every day until his stroke stopped him.
“Old Man Wilde was a legend, man.” His voice is heavy with admiration.
“Really? Even in the Rivers household?” I eye him skeptically.
“I don’t know about that. But I know he toppled the powers that be and upset the social order. That’s why the Rivers hate him.” I remember as a boy he made the distinction between the Rivers and the brothers he considered family. I wonder if that will change now that Hayes is back and in charge.
“Yes, he was totally unpolished but rich enough to pay the cost of entry to their country clubs. He used to go to parties in off the rack clothes. And the old money set he was so desperate to be a part of would laugh behind his back,” I remember with a fond little laugh.
My grandfather said he didn’t mind that they’d laughed at him. Now that he was too rich to ignore, it delighted him to see the same people who snickered knocking on his door to borrow money. He never said no. In fact, he was generous with his new friends - he shared everything, his cars, and boat and properties.
And once, me.
I’m so startled by the intruding thought that I bite my tongue hard enough to draw blood.
In the ensuing pain, the thought disappears as if it had never been there. And I’m glad because it’s not true. He didn’t share me - yes, he encouraged Marcel, but in the end, I married him because I wanted to.
“So, what happened with you and Marcel?” Stone nudges my shoulder.
I peer at him, doubtfully. “You really want to talk about this?”
He nods, his expression earnest. “Unless you’d rather not. But I want to know everything about you.”
We share a smile that makes my heart do something strange and my pulse race.
“So, it’s over?” he prompts.
I realize I’m just staring at him. I touch my flaming cheeks and blink to refocus my mind on the conversation.
But I can’t remember what we were talking about.
“Is what over?” I ask and slap his arm when he bursts out laughing.
“That’s flattering as hell, Regan…and makes me wish we weren’t talking about your marriage.”
That sobers me up and I sigh. “Oh yes, it’s over. In every way, but on paper.”
