by Hamel, B. B.
I watch the cars flit past as we move fast down I-95. I bite my lip, trying not to let my mind stray to that moment we had a couple nights ago, my body on his bed, his mouth between my legs.
God, that was so angry… and so freaking hot.
I’ve never experienced anything like that before. People talk about hate sex and stuff like that, but I’ve been… well, traditional, I guess. I’ve had boyfriends and stuff but I’ve never experienced anything like what I did with Nathan that night.
It was incredible. I can still feel him between my legs, pulling my hair, biting my skin. There was so much anger and passion all mixed up into one confusing moment. I loved it, I hated it, I couldn’t get enough of it.
And I want more.
I glance at him, at his perfect, gorgeous face. He doesn’t look back and I sigh a little bit.
“What?” he asks.
I nearly jump out of my seat. “Sorry?”
“You were staring at me.”
“I was not.”
He shrugs a little. “Fine. You weren’t.”
We lapse into silence again. I’m annoyed again, which only somehow makes my desire for him that much more intense.
“We should talk about what’s going to happen,” I say softly.
“Okay. So talk.”
I clench my jaw. “I need you to participate.”
“I’m listening.”
I roll my eyes but take a deep breath. He’s such an asshole all the time.
“My parents don’t know about this. I sort of warned my mom, but they’re going to be very weirded out. I mean, we can’t really blame them. So be prepared.”
“I am,” he says flatly.
“Good. Also, my parents are pretty conservative, so my dad might ask you… weird questions.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like what your intentions are?”
“I already married you. So I think my intentions are to get you fucking pregnant or something.”
I shiver a little, thinking about how that would happen. “Maybe word it differently,” I say.
“Fine.”
“Compliment my mom’s flowers. She likes that. And look my dad in the eye when you shake his hand. That’s important for some reason. And don’t bring up politics.”
“Why would I bring up politics?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t do it. My parents have a lot of opinions that I don’t share.”
He grunts in response but doesn’t say anything else.
We lapse back into silence and I watch the houses flow past. It doesn’t take much longer until we’re off the highway and getting closer and closer to my old house. I’m nervous by the time we’re on my street, my stomach practically turning over.
“Cute place,” he says as we roll through Langhorne’s main street. There’s not a whole lot, just an old Quaker meeting house, a bunch of old homes, and a few shops that take up about two blocks or so.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s nice.”
We turn down onto my parents’ street and head toward their driveway. He lets out a low whistle when he sees their place.
“Look at this,” he says.
“Shut up.”
“Holy crap. What a house.”
I sigh a little. My parents live in an old enormous eighteenth century stone building that was probably once the richest person in the whole town’s home. It has servants’ quarters and a servants’ staircase up the back, fireplaces in every room, that sort of thing. It’s really nice, but they bought it cheap a long time ago when it wasn’t in the best shape and rehabbed it over the years. Now, it’s worth a ton.
“It wasn’t always this nice,” I say. “But they’ll like it if you compliment the place.”
“Easy,” he says.
We pull into the stone driveway and park. We get out and I lead him to the back door. I knock twice then step in, not wanting to surprise them by just barging inside, which is dumb. I’m being extra careful with Nathan, I realize.
Mom and Dad greet us at the door. Mom comes first, a big smile on her face. She kisses my cheek then turns to Nathan and suddenly freezes, her eyes wide, her smile plastered on her face.
“Oh,” she says, like she just saw someone get kicked in the face.
“There she is,” Dad says, coming up next, and stops mid-stride and stares at Nathan. His mouth is slack and he doesn’t even try to hide his shock.
My dad’s a tall man, getting round and wider with age. His hair’s gone gray and he has a short cropped gray beard. He’s wearing a nice flannel shirt and trousers, and I can tell he got a little dressed up. My mom’s wearing similar clothes, comfortable but nice slacks, a nice sweater, and her hair’s done up, brown streaked with gray, although I know she gets it dyed.
Nobody speaks for a long moment. I want to scream.
Finally, Nathan grins.
“Well, I guess you two hadn’t been warned,” he says.
“No,” Mom says quickly, rushing to take any excuse to move past this awful moment. “No, we weren’t warned at all. Ah, Nathan, right?”
“That’s right, Mrs. Lane.”
“Please, call me Barb.”
I want to fall over and die.
“Okay, Barb.”
I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Mom, Dad, this is Nathan. We, uh, we got married.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
It all happens at once. Dad yells in alarm, my mother stumbles back like I punched her, and Nathan can’t help but start laughing.
“You WHAT?” my father practically shouts again. “MARRIED? You did WHAT now?”
“Dad,” I say desperately. “I know, it’s sudden, but it’s real and it happened and—”
I hold up my finger and thrust the ring at them. Both their eyes fall on it, staring in total, abject shock.
The only sound is Nathan laughing.
I look back at him, my eyes wide, panic starting to take hold. I desperately wish I had done this over the phone, or at least hadn’t done it in front of him.
“You’re not helping,” I hiss.
He grins at me, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Lane. I just thought she had warned you, is all.”
“Right,” Mom says vaguely. “Right, well. We knew she was bringing a boy home, we just didn’t know…”
“That I was her husband?” he asks. “Or that I’m the son of the woman your son killed in an accident?”
Another long, horrified moment. Both my parents are sheet-white and I think my father’s about to have a heart attack.
“You’re still not helping,” I hiss at him.
“Please,” he says, smiling big, forcing himself not to laugh. “Let’s go sit down and talk this through. I promise, we’ll make it all make sense.”
“Yes,” Mom says. “Yes, right. We’ll sit. Tea? Does anyone want tea?”
“I’ll take some,” Nathan says, stepping forward. “By the way, your home is incredible. Could you tell me about it?”
Mom blinks rapidly then instantly shifts into entertaining mode. I watch it happen, like a switch is flipped. She’s far too polite and far too proud of her home not to take his bait.
So Mom talks his ear off as we step toward the kitchen. My father grabs my arm and holds me back for a moment, staring me in the eyes.
“Are you okay, Gracie?” he asks.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“It’s just… that boy…”
“What’s wrong with him?”
He shakes his head rapidly. “Nothing wrong with him at all. Just… the history… the accident. It’s very… it’s unusual.”
“I know,” I say. “We met after the trial and we just sort of… got together. It’s really hard to explain.” I hate lying to him, I really do, so I try to keep it as neutral and generic as possible.
“Yes,” he says and releases my arm. “Well, yes.” He clears his throat. “If you need, ah, help, you can t
ell me.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not keeping me locked in the basement, if that’s what you mean.”
His face turns red. “Not what I meant.”
“Come on,” I say. I take his arm and lead him after Mom and Nathan. “We’ll talk. You’ll like him.”
And so we do. We sit at the kitchen table, my mother makes tea, and she tells Nathan all about the house. She talks endlessly about the improvements they made, all the oddities they found, and my dad even gets in on it. Apparently, he did some in-depth research on the history of the place, which I didn’t know about.
“And did you know that we are only the fourth owners?” he asks. “Well, the house was in a single family until the 1900s. Imagine that! All that time, and only one family.”
“Amazing,” Nathan says.
Dad beams with pride. “Now here we are, stewards of this old home, bringing it into the modern era. I say, it’s a good thing we’re here. Otherwise, I bet someone would’ve let this beautiful place die.”
“It’s a good thing,” Nathan agrees. “You’ve done wonders with it. And kept so much of it original.”
“Or used appropriate materials,” Dad says, nodding.
After that, the tea was served, Nathan complimented my mother’s flowers, and the tension eased a bit.
Not entirely though. I keep catching my mother or father throw Nathan these odd looks, halfway between pity and terror. I think my parents feel the same way I do about Patrick. I think they feel responsible for him, that his crimes are also their crimes. Seeing Nathan up close and personal like this is probably pretty awful for them.
I hadn’t even considered it, if I’m honest. Ever since we got married, I’ve just been on autopilot, trying to get through the day. I haven’t stopped for a second to consider anything beyond how I was going to survive the next few minutes or hours.
But Nathan is actually charming. I’ve never seen him like this. The Nathan I know is angry, surly, a total dick. A really, really sexy dick, but a dick nonetheless.
With my parents though, he’s gregarious. He makes jokes, makes them smile, makes them laugh. He asks questions, shows real interest in the house, in what they do for a living, in everything. Conversation flows easily, shockingly easily, and for a second I forget all about the initial introductions.
But eventually, my father has to broach the subject.
“Nathan,” he says, leaning toward him. “Listen, son. I have to ask. Aren’t things… strange between the two of you?”
Nathan doesn’t even flinch. “No, sir,” he says.
My father loves being called “sir” more than anything in the entire world.
He nods slightly. “Still. It’s an odd arrangement, isn’t it?”
“It’s not an arrangement, sir,” he says with a smile. “It’s a marriage. I know, it’s not traditional, and it was certainly fast, but this is important to us.”
I stare at my dad, worry running all through me, but he just nods. “I see. I see.”
“Listen, Barb, Scott. I can call you Scott?”
Dad just nods. I’ve never seen him assent to being called anything but Mr. Lane by someone younger than him.
“Scott, Barb, I know it may seem strange. And I know we’re just dropping this on you like a bomb. But we want to make this work. We just met and we… well, you know. It happened so fast. maybe we got a little swept up in it, but I’ve never been happier.” He takes my hand and for a second, I actually believe him. He smiles at me and I put my other hand on top of his. We hold it there for along moment.
“Well,” my mother says. “Okay then. I guess… if you’re happy…” She trails off, a smile on her face.
“Welcome to the family.” My dad claps Nathan on the back.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing, but we’re all smiling. Dad gets up and joins my mother over in the kitchen, both of them busy with something and Nathan looks at me.
There’s pure, absolutely pure loathing in his eyes.
He releases my hand like my fingers are on fire.
Dad returns with two glasses of whiskey, which Nathan happily accepts. “Good stuff,” Dad says, and they drink together with a laugh.
We have dinner and it’s probably the most pleasant meal I’ve ever had with my parents. When we finish up, my mother insists that we stay for a little dessert.
“So, Nathan,” Mom says as she puts a very modest slice of cheesecake on a plate for everyone. “Tell me about that ring.”
Nathan smiles and winks at me. “It was my grandmother’s.”
I stare at him, totally taken aback.
“Really now?” Mom asks. “That’s so lovely.”
“I thought so. Grandmom left it for my mother, but I figured, well… they’d want Grace to have it.”
Mom makes a delighted sound and my father nods approvingly. Nothing like family to make my parents lose their goddamn minds.
I stare at the ring, my mind whirling. I didn’t know this was his grandmother’s. I figured he went to some pawn shop and got the cheapest ring he could find. I mean, it’s a pretty ring, beautiful really, I just figured he got lucky.
Dessert is eaten and Nathan hustles us to the door. “Really have to get back for work,” he says. “Lovely to meet you both. We’ll be out again soon, I promise.”
Kisses on the cheek, firm handshakes, solid eye contact. Nathan gives them a winning smile, then we’re outside and in the car again, pulling out of the driveway.
Once the house is in the rearview mirror, Nathan lets out a long, weary breath.
“I think I’d rather cut off my own fucking foot than ever do that again,” he says.
I give him a look. “It wasn’t that bad. And you did really good.”
He looks back at me. “I had to pretend like I don’t fucking despise the people that raised the kid who killed my mother. You think that was easy?”
I frown a little bit. I guess if he hates me… he probably hates my parents just as much.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “I get it.”
He shakes his head and drives. I stare at the ring on my finger, my entire good mood completely soured. I can’t believe I let myself start to feel decent for a little while.
That was nice. I mean, it was the nicest interaction I’ve ever had with my parents. Normally, things get ugly before we make it to dessert. They’re pushy, or they’re too intense with politics, or they just say something that drives me insane.
I love them, but they’re my parents, and they are the best at making me go crazy.
But not tonight. Nathan was the star tonight, smoothing things over, making them laugh. He charmed them, absolutely charmed them. I bet they’re talking about how wonderful he is right now, even though this whole thing is a fucking mess. They’re probably just so happy to have a son-in-law that seems like a fine, upstanding young man.
And I bought it just as hard as they did.
I loved tonight. I had fun with my parents for the first time in a long time. I got to see a side of Nathan that I’ve never seen before. I didn’t know he was funny and outgoing. I didn’t know he could make me smile so easily.
Tonight, Nathan was the kind of man I could see myself being with, really being with.
But the Nathan in the car now is a totally different guy. All that warmth and charm is gone, replaced with steady anger.
I look out the window again. “Was that line about your grandmother’s ring true, or was that bullshit too?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. I almost think he didn’t hear me.
“It’s true,” he says. “I couldn’t believe it actually fit you.”
I frown a little. “Fits perfect.”
“Yeah.” I look at him, and his face is thoughtful, not angry. “It really does. Looks good on you, too.”
I cock my head. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Take a compliment, idiot.”
“That’s more like it,” I say.
We don’t speak for the rest of t
he car ride home. But I can’t tear my eyes away from the ring, my head buzzing with the memory of that dinner, the pure joy of it, and the strange coincidence of this ring.
8
Nathan
Another day, another fruitless search. I shut my laptop lid and hang my head, staring down at my hands.
I haven’t been out of work for this long since I was a kid. To be fair, I worked for my mother, but still. I hate it, I hate feeling useless, and I hate going home every night so fucking angry I could smash something.
I want to take that anger out on Grace. Every time I see her, that beautiful, tight body, those sensual lips, I want to grab her hair rough and shove her against a wall. I want to rip her yoga pants off, lick her dripping little cunt, and fuck her until she can’t walk straight.
Instead, I had to meet her horrible parents.
Okay, I’m being unfair. They weren’t so bad, as far as parents go. I can see how she probably doesn’t get along with them, and her father was a stodgy old asshole, but overall they were fine. Standard middle-class folks, not a bit of anything interesting about them.
I turned on the charm, smiled a lot, hated myself, but we got through it.
All for our final goal. Well, my final goal. I think Grace’s goal is just to survive me unscathed.
But that’s not going to happen.
I get up, slip my laptop into my bag, and am about to put my phone away when it starts to ring.
Private number. I frown a little. That’s odd, I haven’t seen that in a while. I walk out of the coffee shop, bag on my shoulder, and answer.
“Hello?” I say, figuring it’ll just be spam.
“Hello, Nathan.”
My blood runs cold. I stop in the street, mouth hanging open, staring straight ahead.
All at once, I’m twelve again. My father’s standing in front of me in the backyard, a baseball in his hand.
“You little bitch, you don’t know how to throw worth shit.”