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“I know. And I’ll take full responsibility for the fact that we should have sat you down and talked to you sooner.”
“Christian said—”
“I love your father, Reese. I always have. But it’s been a long time since I tried to convince myself that I was in love with him.”
“Why didn’t you do the right thing when you figured it out?”
“Because I couldn’t. I’m Jeremy Brown’s daughter. I’d made my wedding vows, and in his eyes, that was how it had to stay. You know your grandfather was traditional to his very core.”
“So screwing around on your marriage was better than a divorce so that you could both be happy?”
“We weren’t screwing around. We both knew the deal.”
“I’m not sure if that makes it any better or worse. How long was Dad sleeping with Krystal, Mum?” I ask, wondering if she’ll give me the same answer that Krystal did.
She swallows nervously.
“All those times she came for dinner, to my birthday parties, for Christmas. All the times I called her aunt. She was banging Dad, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, but we were happy, Reese. We made it work. And that’s all we ever wanted for you, a happy family.”
“But it was all a lie.”
“No,” she argues. “The love we have for each other was real, and the love we have for you is real. Maybe it wasn’t conventional, but it worked for us.”
“You should have been honest. I get that maybe you couldn’t do it while Grandad was alive. I understand the high expectations he had of you. But after he was gone, I was old enough to understand. All you had to do was tell me, I—”
“We were going to,” she assures me.
“Well, you weren’t fast enough. Watching you get fucked against a wall, and then Krystal grinding down on Dad were both things I never, ever needed to see.”
Her cheeks turn such a bright shade of red, I’m surprised her head doesn’t go up in flames.
“We’re sorry, Reese. For all of it. We handled it badly, just like you did.”
“Oh no, don’t turn this on me. I fucked up, I know that.” I really fucking know it, and I’ll spend a lot of time trying to make up for it. For ever hurting Olivia the way I have. “But it all could have been prevented if you trusted me with the truth. I might not show it, but all I want for the both of you is to be happy, and if you’d explained the situation, then yeah, it might have been hard to swallow, but I’d have understood. People change, I fucking get that.”
She hangs her head in shame while I throw back the measure she poured for me.
Silence falls between us, and I push the stool back ready to put an end to this, but Mum's next words stop me.
“You shouldn’t have gone to Judge Bancroft like that today.”
“Why not, Mum? It wasn’t like you were doing anything to get me out of it. You can’t actually believe that it would have worked, that Abigail was the girl for me. You just described what happens in a marriage where love isn’t enough to conquer all. What did you expect us to do? Put up with each other until he died and then go our separate ways?”
I don’t need her answers to confirm that that was exactly her plan.
“He’s sick, Reese. He’s…” She winces. “Not going to be around forever. I hoped that… maybe… you wouldn’t have to fulfil your obligation.”
“You hoped he would die before we got married, is that what you’re saying? That’s messed up.”
She shrugs, guilt covering her face.
“But why, Mum? Why sign me away like a prize fucking cow when you knew I wouldn’t want it?”
“Because I didn’t have a choice,” she finally confesses.
My eyes narrow as I study her. “What really happened between you and Judge Bancroft, Mum?” A trickle of unease rolls down my spine.
