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“On second thought, you’d better go home. I need my beauty rest now more than ever since I’m back on the market.”
She smiles sadly at my stupid joke and kisses my cheek. “I love you, Bricey. I’m so sorry about all this.”
“Love you too.”
She hurries off and I watch her go before heading back into the house.
I find Grandpa in the office. Louisa nearly blocks my way in the hall outside his door— “Your grandfather promised I wouldn’t let anyone bother him, please don’t go in there, Brice.”—but I step past her and open the door. Daddy’s nowhere to be seen—I haven’t spoken with him in a couple days, not since we got back from Philly and had dinner together—but Grandpa doesn’t seem worried about Daddy’s absence.
I linger on the threshold and second-guess myself, wondering if maybe Louisa was right, this isn’t a good time and it’s rude to shove inside, but I push that thought out of my mind. I need to stop worrying about what’sgoodand what’spoliteand just do what needs doing.
“I want to talk to you,” I say and stride to the desk.
Grandpa looks up with a frown. “Brice—”
“Is Carmine still involved with Rowe Oil?”
He looks at me with surprise and leans back in his chair. He fiddles with his glasses for a moment, wiping their frames, before nodding. “Yes, he is.”
“Why?”
“Because even though the two of you are no longer engaged, we still have contracts. He still owns his shares. I can’t go back on that deal.”
“And he hasn’t spoken to you? About me?”
“No, he hasn’t.”
I don’t know why that hurts. I shouldn’t have asked but the question tumbled out and now I feel even more weak and needy than I did before.
“I don’t want him anywhere near me.” I sit down on the armchair and lean forward. “I know the marriage was in the documents—”
“We can handle that. We’ll renegotiate if necessary, but I suspect Carmine won’t put up much of a fight after all.”
A strange, sudden, sharp stab of disappointment tears me in half.
I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I hoped he’d reach out to my grandpa and demand that they send me back to him. At least that would somehow vindicate me—or maybe prove that he gives a shit about marrying me after all. Instead, this silence is so much worse, like everything that happened between us was just some fake game for him, all a product of his initial creepy motives.
But somethingdidhappen between us. I keep thinking to that moment in the car when the Panagos goons opened fire. Carmine could’ve done anything in that moment, and he chose to throw himself on top of me. There was no time to think, he simply reacted on gut instinct, and his instincts told him to protect me at all costs, even if it meant getting himself killed.
That’s not how people act when they don’t care.
If I was nothing but a toy to him, he should’ve been happy to let me get killed. Heck, he should’ve pulled me on top ofhimand used me as a shield.
Instead, he protected me.
I keep coming back to that moment, over and over again.
Because that’s the one moment where he couldn’t lie. He didn’t have time to fake anything. He had to act, and he chose to save me.
That means something.
But I don’t know what, and I don’t know if it matters.
“Where’s Daddy been?” I ask because, apparently, I love pain right now.
“Your father’s busy raising new funds to help dig the family out of the hole we’re currently in.”
“Why would anyone give him moneynow? He’s going to jail.”
