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“But?”
“No but.”
He’s lying, so I stare at him with my eyebrows raised expectantly.
Finally, he shrugs, looking away. “She’s maybe not the best wife.”
I frown because that seems utterly opposite of what I’ve witnessed in my short time here. She and his dad seem obscenely happy. Hell, I literally watched the woman drop everything to refill her husband’s coffee like some fifties throwback. “Really? How so?”
He looks at me. “Don’t say anything.”
“I won’t.”
“She cheats.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“I know my dad’s not the easiest guy to be with, but it’s what she signed up for, you know? He’s not the worst, either, and he does make an effort for her. It’s not like he’s some uncaring asshole who just doesn’t give a shit, but he is who he is. And she knew who he was and supposedly loved him going into it, that’s why she chose to marry him. It’s supposed to be for better or worse, right? A commitment. You should be able to rely on those, but I guess someone’s word is only as good as…” He shakes his head. “You’ve gotta consider the source. Guess she’s not reliable.”
I frown. None of that matches my impression of them. “They both seem happy to me. Your father certainly seems happy with her, and your mom seems to go out of her way for him. I would imagine layers and layers of resentment if their relationship was like the one you’re describing.”
“Right? Me too.” He shakes his head. “Their dynamic is weird. Maybe I don’t entirely get it.”
“Maybe they only seemed that way to me because someone was watching. Some people are different with an audience.”
“Nah. They’re loved up in private, too.”
“Does your dad… sleep around?”
He shakes his head. “Like I said, he only has eyes for her.”
“Hm. I was gonna say, maybe they’re swingers or something.”
He shakes his head. “Definitely not swingers. It’s cheating. There’s no consent involved. My dad doesn’t like it; he just… loves her too much or something, I don’t know.”
“Well, whatever the situation, it must work for them. Maybe we don’t get it, but they’re happier than any married couple I’ve ever seen, so they must be doing something right.”
Before we can delve any deeper into the inner workings of Silvan’s mom and dad’s marriage, there’s a knock on the door, and Olena comes in pushing a cart.
Maybe it’s all this talk of commitment and infidelity, but I find it even more impossible to ignore the sparkle in her eye when she brings a breakfast tray over for Silvan and serves him.
“I brought coffee, orange juice, and tea,” she tells him. “Which would you like?”
“Coffee and orange juice,” he tells her, then glances over at me.
“Um, orange juice for me,” I say.
She nods, grabbing two cold bottles of water off her cart and handing one to each of us. “I brought these as well, in case you needed them.”
“Thank you, Olena.”
She blushes prettily under his notice and says, “You’re welcome, Master.”
My spine stiffens. I’ve heard Hugh refer to him as “Master Silvan” before and it didn’t bother me, but hearing it from the lips of a girl who moons over him… it feels a bit different.
Olena serves him first, then she comes over to me. She gives us ham, egg, and cheese sandwiches on warm, buttery croissants with sides of fresh fruit.
Once we have all our food, Silvan dismisses her with a warm, “Thank you, Olena,” and she bows her head to him, then goes over to the cart and disappears from the room.
