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“You don’t even want it done the peaceful way, do you?”
“Peaceful ways are boring. Now, get out. I’ve spoken to you enough for this decade.”
She flips him the finger as she steps out of the car.
“Fucking witch,” Dad mutters under his breath and drives away.
I’m left skeptical about the entire exchange, but I push on and listen to his phone calls, which are mostly with his assistant about work and court. Many are with me, asking what I want for dinner.
Moisture gathers in my eyes when I watch the easing of his expression whenever he talks to me. I took everything for granted. His love, his attention, his presence. And now, I have none of those.
Jane taps my shoulder and I stare at her, removing my headphones. She gives me hers and points at the laptop. “I think you should listen to this.”
I plug in the headphones and hit Play. The image on the screen is of Dad driving. He’s wearing the suit from the day of the accident, and he has those dark circles under his eyes.
An unknown number flashes on the dash and Dad answers with, “Tell me you found her.”
I lean closer in my seat, but I can’t hear what the other person is saying, because Dad is listening through an earpiece. However, I see the change in his face, the way it turns to granite, and his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.
“That can’t be…” His voice is low, almost a murmur. “She can’t be Gwen’s mother. Look again.”
He ends the call, throws the earpiece down, then hits the steering wheel a few times in a row. I can almost feel the rattling of the dashboard in front of him, because it’s inside me, too.
I didn’t hear it wrong, did I? He said Gwen’s mother, right? Does that mean Dad was looking for her?
According to what I just heard, he found her. He did, and then the accident happened.
The whole thing can’t be a coincidence, can it?
24
Nathaniel
“Ithought you wouldn’t survive Mrs. Weaver.”
I glare at my nephew as he slides on top of the conference table, facing me. The other partners left, but he stayed behind to play the bastard role.
“You knew she was coming and didn’t tell me?”
He raises his hands in the air. “Hey. I only got the call after she left. A furious one at that in all of Mrs. Weaver’s snobbish glory. She kept asking if I knew and then said of course I did and that I should bear the consequences if this becomes public and all that fun stuff. But most of all, she was royally pissed that “the little girl” kicked her out. Gwen really did that?”
“Gwyneth. The name is Gwyneth.” And she did. She kicked out my mother even though she’s not the type who shows rudeness without a reason. Despite her smart tongue and sass, she’s not an antagonist. But she has a strong sense of justice and that’s what pushed her to talk to Mrs. Weaver that way.
I’ve been in a gloomy mood ever since she left this morning. I’m surprised I was able to handle this meeting with enough reasoning.
It shouldn’t be this way. It shouldn’t feel empty, harsh, and unyielding, as if something inside me is lifeless. As if her hollowness is now with me and I couldn’t get rid of it even if I tried, because that emptiness is restricting my breathing, no matter how much I loosen my tie.
And because she transferred her hollowness to me, there’s an urge to go find her, to fucking talk some sense into her so she stops having girlhood dreams. Because that’s all they are, girlhood fucking dreams and misconceptions and everything in between.
But even if I do talk to her, she’ll make those dreams shine harder and brighter. Gwyneth is the type of person who thrives on small gestures yet plummets hard because of them as well. And I can’t let her tow that line.
“She’s more like King than I thought.” Sebastian grins with amusement and I want to wipe it off of his face. I don’t want him or any fucking one amused by her. I’m the only one who should be afforded that luxury.
A few months back, he never would have grinned or acted amused. But ever since he got back with his girlfriend, Naomi, I see more of his old charming self shining through and it’s a relief. I hate the grouchy, grumpy person he became after she was gone. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let him have fun at my expense.
“If you’re finished, go back to work.”
“I’m far from finished. You still didn’t tell me what you’ll do.”
