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“It’s not. But we all have a right to worry. Because we love you. I don’t want to be alone in this. Don’t you want our daughters to be here with us?”
Judy looked directly into Cassie’s eyes now. “I’ve wanted that for ten years.”
The guilt and shame Cassie had felt over the last decade turned the sweetness of the wine into ash. A lump rose in her throat, and she knew if she didn’t get a grip on her emotions, she’d have a panic attack while staring into her potatoes.
“We’re here now, Mom.” Laura’s voice was gentle. “Cassie’s here to apologize and explain why she pushed us away. And we’re here to ask you not to do the same thing. You saw what happened. Things didn’t work out the last time around. Let’s not make the same mistake twice.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t have a choice. My surgery is in a few days, so you win.”
Laura and Cassie sputtered in unison.
“What?”
“A few days?”
“Were you even going to tell us?”
“How were you planning on keeping that a secret?”
Judy stood up and threw her napkin down on the table. Walter’s hand d
ropped to his side. He looked hurt and worried and tired.
“Dinner was excellent, but I’m not feeling very well at the moment. I’ll clean up later.”
She left the room and stunned silence followed in her wake.
“Dad,” Laura started. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
He started gathering plates. “It’s not your fault, honey.”
Cassie chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It’s mine.”
Walter stopped to give her a pointed look. “It’s not yours either. It’s not anyone’s. Emotions are high right now. Your mother will be fine. She was cornered. We all should’ve handled this better.”
Cassie heard what he said but didn’t believe it.
Laura gathered a handful of dishes to bring to the sink. Cassie slipped away while their backs were turned. She wouldn’t have known where anything went, anyway. Besides, she wanted to commiserate by herself for a few minutes before she had to share living space with her family for the next several days.
5
Senator Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was counting backwards from ten and kept his eyes closed until he reached zero. When he opened them again, he forced himself not to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. He’d learned a long time ago that heightened emotions and rash decisions were not ideal characteristics of an influential leader.
He stood in the middle of his bedroom with his jacket hanging off the bedpost and his tie loosened around his neck. His shoes were still on his feet, and if his mother were alive, she’d have given him a beating to remember. Bless her soul.
His wife, on the other hand, was in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. She had a sweater wrapped around her shoulders, and it was so large on her petite frame, it looked like it might swallow her whole. The silence between them was deafening, and yet it didn’t drown out the tick of the clock on the mantle. He hated that damn thing, so old and useless, but his wife loved it, and that was all that mattered.
Mary had always been a tiny person, but the chemo seemed to have shrunk her further. The doctors said she was healthy—in remission and maintaining a good weight—but there was something about her now that seemed smaller. She smiled less and slept more. The cancer had taken a piece of her that was never coming back.
The two of them had just gotten into a shouting match, which had once been a rare occurrence. Now, it seemed to happen every other week. As soon as Connor hit puberty, Mother Nature had decided the two men could not live under the same roof. Through the haze of age, Grayson just about remembered what it was like to be in his son’s shoes. How often he had argued with his own father. How much he’d hated him back then.
Mary did not see their son in the same light. He was her one and only, her perfect angel. She couldn’t ignore the trouble Connor stirred up, but she figured if she just loved him harder, he’d straighten up and they’d go back to being a perfect family. It was a naïve, albeit honorable, sentiment.
But Grayson knew there was no honor in politics. He had an important role to fill, and Connor constantly stood in the way of those dreams. The public knew a fraction of what went on behind closed doors, and even that was too much information. Connor had broken off his leash a long time ago, and Grayson’s fuse had gotten shorter.
“Lawrence.” Mary’s voice was soft. Pleading. “I know something is wrong.”
“You don’t know that.” Grayson worked to keep his voice neutral. “You fear that. There is a difference.”
