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Odette hung up andslapped the phone into his palm. For some reason, she felt angerrising up inside her.
“Change yourdamn number,” She blazed at him.
“You know Ican’t do that.” He was ashamed and angry with himselfthat he was still susceptible to Amelia’s wiles and Odette knewit.
“Then what areyou going to do, Dion?” She wanted to shake some sense intohim. “Is she going to control the rest of your life?”
“She doesn’tcontrol my life.” His jaw was rigid, green eyes blazing. “I’mtrying here.”
“How are youtrying?” She almost stamped her foot in frustration. “She’sstill calling and you’re letting her. She’s in prison foralmost killing you and you take her calls. Are you that desperate andstupid?”
He stepped back, hisbreathed backing up inside his throat as he stared at her. “Ihave to go.”
“Dion-“She called out, but she watched helplessly as he dragged the dooropen and got into his vehicle.
She’d hurt himdeeply; she realized that. Who the hell was she to judge? She’dstayed with a loser for two years and had funneled money into hisaccount even though she knew he was using her. “Oh Lord.”She whispered, getting into her vehicle as he drove out of the lot.“I’m going to have to find a way to make it up to him.”
*****
He didn’t goback to the office. He knew his mother was waiting to find out how itwent, but he wanted to be alone. Taking a left turn, he drove intothe private cemetery and nodded to the security on duty who knew himby sight. Charles Horton was buried there in the family plot that hadbeen bought centuries ago.
Exiting the vehicle,he walked slowly to where several of his ancestors were paraded in astraight line. His father was the latest. The patch of land wasprivate and came with a bench for the mourners to sit in comfort andstyle, something he’d always thought was ironic. Who would wantto spend an inordinate amount of time in a graveyard?
No matter how wellkept the graves were, they were still symbols of bodies buried, ofloved ones who would never return. Lowering himself onto the paddedbench, he stared at the inscription. It was simple enough.
Birth and day ofdeath and the usual- 'Loving husband, father and friend.' Theinscription was just a formality, a charade, because Charles Hortonhad never been a loving husband or father. Far from it. He’dcheated on his wife before the ink had dried on their marriagecertificate.
He’d never paidany attention to his only child, leaving the bringing up to his wife.Dion wondered if that was the reason he could never settle into agood relationship. He wondered if, somehow, he’d inherited hisfather's nasty genes and it was twisting him.
Odette had called himdesperate and stupid and that burned more than anything else. Hevalued her opinion of him. She was a constant in his life and she wasstrong and independent. For her to call him those names, it was liketwisting a knife into his heart and he couldn’t stand it.
She was right,though, he thought bitterly. His life was a mess. Amelia had donesomething to him - no - he shook his head. It wasn’t justAmelia. It started from his father ignoring him and his constant needto seek approval and love from a man who barely acknowledged him.
He was a grown mannow and had to move past that. He had to stop blaming people for hisactions. He had a choice and hopefully, very soon, he was going to bea father as well. He had to be different. He had to show that hecould be better.
*****
She was frantic withguilt and worry. He wasn’t answering his phone and it’dbeen several hours. She ended up calling his office and they told herhe hadn’t returned. Where the hell was he?
She tried the numberagain. "Look, I apologize and you know I hate doing that. I’msupposed to be stress-free while this process is going on and you’renot helping. Dion, I’m sorry, just call me back. Dammit, you’renot supposed to punish me like this. Call me."
Hanging up the phone,she went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She’d make sometea while she waited for him to call her back. When she heard thewoman's voice on the phone it was as if someone had poured a boilingpot of water over her head.
She’d seen thehurt and confused look on his face and it’d twisted somethinginside her heart. She wanted to kill the bitch for hurting him likethat. How could he love her after what she had done to him? Why thehell was that any of her business?
She’d beenasking herself that for a long time and was unable to come up with ananswer. In the meantime, she had her own problems. Lydia had marchedover as soon as she came back home and the argument had left her witha headache.
Biting off a sigh,she went to get the cup and was reaching for the box of tea, when herphone rang. Picking it up, she felt herself going weak as sherecognized the number. "You’re officially off my Christmaslist."
"I’msorry. I had to get away to think."
"Dion, I’msorry, I crossed the line"
"You wereright."
"No, dammit. I’mnot." Sitting on the stool, she closed her eyes. "You’renot stupid or desperate. I was angry and I said the first things thatcame into my mouth. I’m worried about you, and I’m angry.I don't want her calling you and putting that look on your face. Iwant to kill her for what she did to you."
"Odette-"
