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“Why didn’t Constance come with us?”
“I wanted her to sleep in.”
“I don’t think she wants to sleep in. She likes taking me to school.”
I smiled. “I know she does, sweetheart.” We stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change. Claire knew when it was about to, so she took a step before it was officially green.
I snatched her by the arm and tugged her back. “Always wait until it’s green.”
“But it was going to change—”
“Doesn’t matter. You wait. Understand me?”
She nodded.
We crossed the street and made it to her school. Parents dropped off their kids, and just like old times, the moms all looked at me the second I was on campus. I wasn’t involved in school functions, except for parent-teacher conferences, but everything else I avoided. Wasn’t my thing. And didn’t want these single mothers taking their shot.
I gave Claire a hug and a kiss on the forehead before I said goodbye.
She ran off right away, headed straight to a group of her friends outside the door to their classroom. They all smiled when she came, genuinely happy to see her. She must have said something funny because they laughed a moment later.
Sometimes I would just watch her, see the way she interacted with other kids, the way she was different from when it was just the two of us. She had her own life outside of the house, her own experiences, something I wasn’t a part of.
That was how it should be.
I had Constance now—and she was my own experience.
I turned away and left campus, crossed the street that Claire had tried to rush, and then halted when I saw him.
Leaned up against the building with his arms crossed over his chest, it was Bartholomew. It was like seeing a vampire in daylight—something that shouldn’t be possible. Dressed in all black with his military boots, he was exactly as I remembered. And he wore that empty look, his gaze impenetrable.
I held his gaze.
“I’m alive, but you don’t look too happy about it.”
I turned away and kept walking.
He followed me. “Benton.”
“I said I never want to see you again.” I halted then turned around. “What part of that didn’t you understand?”
His eyes narrowed as they focused on my face, his look dark despite the sunlight heavy on his cheeks. “The part where you called Ian to tell him I needed help right after you left.”
I kept my face hard as stone.
“Benton—”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Not why I’m here.”
“I don’t care why you’re here. Leave me the fuck alone.” Other people passed on the sidewalk as they headed to work and school, and they didn’t seem to notice the two of us in a verbal battle.
“You know me. I don’t make apologies—”
“And you know I don’t accept them.”
He slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I accept your resignation, Benton. But I don’t accept your withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal from what?”
He stared at me for a long time before he made a slight gesture between us. “Us.”
I gave a loud sigh as I looked away.
“I would never put Claire in jeopardy—and you know that.”
“You had ample opportunity to get her back—”
“I had no fucking idea that they took her until you came to me. And once I knew, you bet your ass I tried to get her back before I got a damn thing from you. But it was too late. Forneus took off running.”
With a clenched jaw, I shook my head. “You saw what they did to Beatrice—”
“I had no idea—”
“Fuck off, Bartholomew. Don’t play stupid when we both know you’re the smartest motherfucker in this town. Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing as you were doing it. Maybe shit got out of hand, but you still orchestrated the beginning of this nightmare. All because you still held a grudge—after all these years.”
He breathed heavily for a while, his eyes hard. “You’re right. I never forget a slight—and you slighted me hard. But the betrayal was different from all the others, because this was fucking personal. I let my anger get the best of me, let it simmer these last seven years, and then I did something I shouldn’t have done. Benton, I’m sorry. Fucking sorry. I’d take it back if I could—”
“But you can’t. And I’m moving to Canada anyway, so…”
His shoulders fell the same way his eyes did.
I turned away before he could say anything back. “Goodbye, Bartholomew.”
Constance watched me move about the house, watched me grab the bottle of scotch and fill a glass even though it wasn’t even noon. She watched me flop down on the couch in front of my laptop. “Something happen?”
I took a drink and kept my eyes focused on the screen.
She came closer. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Benton—”
“I said, nothing.” This time, I looked up at her to drive the message home.
