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“Aren’t you mad at me, Fee?”
“What about? Marcus is not a child. And you didn’t force those drinks down his throat. He chose to inhale those jello shots.”
“Yes, but maybe I should have stayed with him,” I said doubtfully.
“Honey, you didn’t abandon him on the street. You left him with your friend, and with his chauffeur waiting to take him home. That is a lot more than most girls have when they get drunk at a bar. And your first priority should always be Rosie until she grows up and can take care of herself. Mothers don’t have the luxury of staying out all night. Marcus should have known that and made sure he didn’t put you in that situation.”
I sighed heavily.
“Fee, why is your boy such a pain in my ass?” I asked wearily.
“Because he loves you,” she said promptly.
“Are you sure that’s what it is? If he loves me, then why do I feel more controlled than loved? This feels like Brandon all over again,” I wailed.
“Does it, though?” she asked quietly. “Think about that.”
I thought about it a lot after she hugged me and left, with a promise to meet again soon. Wasn’t this exactly how Brandon made me feel? Then, I checked myself. No, not exactly.
While Brandon did make me feel angry when he tried to turn me into his idea of a suburban mom, he never made me feel loved and secure. He never loved our daughter either. Not the way Marcus did.
Sure, Marcus smothered me with his version of love, but he also made me feel complete in a way that no one else ever did. If only I could get him to listen to me.
I turned from my contemplation of Madonna and Child and froze at the sight of Marcus leaning against the wall behind me, watching me with an unreadable expression on his face.
CHAPTER 21
MARCUS
Icame in here with every intention of yelling at Celine for what she had just put me through.
I had spent the last couple of hours wondering where she had disappeared, and whether Monani had got to her after all. And all this while, she had been chilling at the Met. She had abandoned me at the bar and ignored all my calls just because she was mad at me. It was selfish and immature, and I wanted to tell her I deserved better.
And then, I saw her.
I saw the defeat and worry written in every line of her body as she stared unseeingly at one of the most poignant paintings in the world. That of the holy mother and child. I kind of understood that a lot of what was going on between us had to do with Celine doing what was best for her child. And if I was entirely honest, did I really expect her to stay with me all night when Rosie was at home with the babysitter?
She stared at me warily before she spoke.
“I’m sorry I left you at the bar, Marcus.”
“Eh, I was asking for it, I guess. I behaved like a frat boy.”
I was never going to live that down. My brothers would take great delight in throwing it in my face for the rest of my life.
“But I’m not sorry I yelled at you for buying me the studio,” she replied.
I sighed as I took the stroller from her and led her to a bench in a corner.
“Celine, can you tell me where we’re headed? Do you want to be with me at all?” I asked starkly.
“More than anything in the world,” she whispered.
“Then why do we fight every time I do something for you?”
She turned to me and studied me for a long moment.
“Because I’m not sure you’re doing it all for me. It feels like you’re doing a lot of it for yourself,” she said finally.
