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“Let her figure things out on her own,” Dad says. “She doesn’t need us interfering.”
Mom rears back, eyeing him through thin slits. “You just don’t want her coming to live with us or near us, is that it?”
My dad gives a humorless laugh. “I’ve let your father come here. Why not your mother? What about your sister and brother? They can come too, and it will be a huge Beckwith party.” His smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s in sarcastic mode, one of my least favorite versions. My stomach flips the same way it always did growing up.
“You’d dare say that with my dad just arriving? He’s sitting right here.” She throws her hands in the air. “I can’t believe you can’t be more cordial right now.”
“I’m just saying, you can stop meddling. Your mom’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Yeah? Everything. Like our marriage?” My mom crosses her arms over her middle. “We’re unhappy, Dean.”
“Wow. That escalated quickly,” I say.
At this, several things happen at once. The cat goes darting from the room. My dad stands up, the chair sliding back from him in a loud scrape across the hardwood floor. My mom’s jaw is hard set, her aura is seething. They’re ready to start their verbal war.
Grandpa and I stand, too. Redness has started creeping up from under the collar of his shirt.
“Come on. I’ll help you bring your stuff into the room.” But my voice isn’t working quite right on account of the ball that’s formed in my throat.
Here’s one excellent reason I’ve moved out of the house. My parents mostly live their own separate lives, only interacting when necessary. But every once in a while, it’s World War Three around here.
We head down the hall to his new room, and Grandpa sits on the corner accent chair. “This room is great!” he says. “I appreciate you giving it up for me. And your parents for letting me stay, although I have a feeling I’m not gonna be here too long.” He points in the direction of the living room. “Tough crowd.” He smiles, but I see the pain in his eyes.
I tilt my head towards the hallway. “I’m really sorry about that. They’re usually not—” I stop myself. Why try to sugar coat it? Why say something that isn’t true? “Well, they usually keep it under wraps.”
“I understand. And it’s okay. They’ve had a hard road in their marriage. At least they’re sticking it out. Something I couldn’t manage to do with your grandmother.” He licks his lips as if he’s trying to get rid of a bitter taste.
Is their sticking it out a good thing, though?
Maybe.
There’s a lot I don’t know. But one thing is sure: In my family, love usually equals misery.
Chapter 15
Theo
“Do you have all my paperwork, Theo?” Aleecia Dahlen asks me, sitting across from my desk. She grabs a lock of her red hair and rotates it nervously around her finger.
I finally got the greenlight to work on the Dahlen case. When I got the good news yesterday, I felt like Maxwell Smart when he thought he was in the Cone of Silence. I could have screamed how happy I was and even added in a couple of hitch kicks for fun, too.
In her mid-fifties, and wearing a trim blue suit, Aleecia barely looks forty. “I’d like to get a jump on both the will and the prenup. The sooner this is done, the better.” She bites her bottom lip. “Not that I should rush anything, and the wedding’s not for a few more months. I just have to be sure to protect myself.” She waves me off. “My therapists say my nerves are normal.”
“Therapists? Plural?”
“No one should have to get by these days with only one. I have my personal one, our couple’s counselor, my life coach, my group therapist, my yogi therapist . . .” She trails off.
Normally, I’d disagree with her on that one, figuring one solid counselor is all a person needs. But right now? I feel so mixed up with my obsession to make partner someday and all these unnecessary, and frankly, borderline frustrating thoughts of Aria, that maybe Aleecia Dahlen is on to something.
I nod. “I feel for you. This isn’t easy. But you’ve done the right thing coming to us.”
“I learned my lesson.” She gives a half-hearted laugh. “For my other marriage, I didn’t sign a prenup and the divorce took over two years to settle. Please. I can’t go through that again.”
“I don’t want that for you, either.” I offer a smile. “This is a happy occasion, Aleecia. You’re getting married.”
A smile spreads across her lacquered lips. “I am. And I even toyed with the idea of not doing a prenup, if you can believe it. Ronald and I fell in love before he even understood my wealth and, I don’t know, he’s not intrinsically motivated by money. It almost felt safe to not even worry about this. But then I woke up.”
“So, how did you and Ronald meet?” I’ll admit it to no one, but I personally love hearing people’s love stories.Otherpeople’s love stories.
