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She was also barely seventeen.
Knowing Fox like I do, I can guess it took just one look at her for him to decide he would have her. Period. The end. It didn’t matter that he’d ruin her. The adulterer was engaged to Mira when he decided to take my mother to his bed. She was ten years younger than Mira Fox, but she was clever—cleverer than he expected, is my guess, because when she got pregnant, she didn’t run away or disappear, like he wanted.
She stayed put and made him pay in exchange for not announcing the fact that he’d bedded and impregnated an underage girl. If anyone had any doubt I was his son, all they had to do was take one look at me. I hate the fact, but it is that. Every time I see my eyes in any reflection, it’s like Sly Fox is looking back at me.
The wind picks up.
“All right, all right, Mom. I’ll stop.”
I stand still for a long, long minute, and I hear my mind reciting a prayer she taught me when I was little. It’s not conscious, but there it is. When I’m done, thewind grows quieter, quiet enough that I imagine I can hear the waves crashing far below.
“I miss you. I hope you’re okay wherever you are,” I tell her.
I turn to go, my throat closing again. I walk back to the SUV, take a deep breath, and get in before heading to The Sinistral where in my penthouse suite, Cecilia will have ordered a bottle of whiskey to be waiting for me. I will drink every last drop and forget having seen Ophelia. Forget having held her, even for a moment. Forget how she felt in my arms. Forget the single tear that fell from her eye.
5
OPHELIA
Past
Swimming Lessons
Ilove water. I love wading into the sea or any pool—the bluer the better, the deeper the better, but I only ever stay in the shallows.
Technically, I can swim. I know how I’m supposed to move in the water, at least. Dad has insisted on lessons. Five years’ worth of them. But there’s something inside me that just won’t let me go deeper. I’m five-feet-four-inches now, and I won’t even swim out to six feet even though I know that if I were to go under and panic, all I’d have to do is kick off the bottom and I’d resurface. I know this in myhead, but no matter what, I cannot get my limbs to move, to do what I know how to do as soon as I can’t feel the bottom.
It's weird. Everyone swims. It’s embarrassing.
“Phee,” Ethan says, coming up behind me and settling next to me at the pool. He hands me a beer, and I take it, although I don’t really want it. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m two years younger than him.
He taps his bottle to mine and takes a big swallow of his. I glance up at the top of my house, which I can see over the tall fence the Foxes had erected between the properties, and take a small sip. Dad would not like to know I was drinking a beer, especially around water, but I remind myself he’s not home. He’s out with the Foxes, and Tonia is visiting her sister in Portsmouth. Her sister has been going through a divorce and Tonia’s helping out, so she’s gone most weekends now.
“Warm enough?” Ethan asks, setting his beer down and wrapping an arm around me.
I nod, liking the feel of him this close. It’s almost nine at night but it’s August, so the temperature is perfect for swimming lessons. Today is my fifteenth birthday, and this is Ethan’s birthday gift to me. I have a feeling he came up with this idea at the last minute when he forgot it was my birthday, but he’s seventeen now and getting ready for college so I get it.
“Good. Cute suit, by the way.”
His green eyes skim over me, and I feel myself blush a little. I know Ethan’s reputation at school. There is no shortage of older, prettier girls with actualboobs that flirt with him any chance they get. Flirt and more. I’ve heard the stories.
“Thanks,” I say. “Your mom took me shopping to get it for my birthday. I am not sure my dad was too pleased, to be honest.” It’s a two-piece crocheted suit in a rainbow of colors, but it’s skimpy. I think seeing me in it this afternoon, Dad realized I’m not a little girl anymore.
Ethan’s grin widens. “I get why.” He waggles his eyebrows, and my blush deepens. “You better watch the boys, Phee. I see how they look at you.” He drinks a sip of his beer and slides into the pool, the water coming to his stomach here.
“No boys look at me, Ethan.”
He faces me, then pushes my knees apart and stands between them, flexing his muscles. He’s been working out, and you can really see it.
“All you have to do is lose these.” He reaches to slip my glasses off my face and sets them aside. “There. That’s better. You have pretty eyes, Phee. You should get contacts.”
“Maybe,” I say, squinting a little. I’m not blind, but there’s a lot of blurring without my glasses, and contacts irritate my eyes.
He sets his hands on my hips, thumbs coming to my hip creases, his face dimpling as he licks his lips. Then, without breaking eye-contact, he reaches for his beer and drains the bottle. “Ready for your lesson?”
“I think so,” I say, yelping and setting my hands onhis shoulders as he lifts me up, muscles bulging, and draws me down into the pool. My breath catches when cool water reaches my belly, and when he wraps his arms around my waist as my feet touch down, I hug him.
Ethan and I have been getting closer—not close, but he’s definitely taken more notice of me these last few months. We’re just friends, of course. I’m too young in his eyes. But the few times we do get to hang out together when he doesn’t have friends over, I feel like he gives me all his attention, and it feels nice.
