by Celeste, B.
Richard Pratt.
Weaving our fingers together, I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand and said, “I wanted to talk to you about this when things were settled. Flamell had every intention of making an arrest by the week’s end. Katrina’s death almost seems like the last nail in the coffin for Pratt.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that he and the people he blackmails won’t be able to get away with the shit they’ve done. The others might get off with less punishment compared to Pratt, but they’ll still be convicted. The NYPD has been after the people responsible for illegal activity in this city for a long time, Della. It was a shame that people had to die for them to get what they needed, but it’s over.”
She visibly swallowed, meeting my eyes at last before wetting her bottom lip. “And Sam? Gina? They’re using too, Theo. What if they end up like Kat?”
“They won’t.” Not if Flamell was moving forward with his plan. I wasn’t going to tell her what he intended to do. The girls were one of the biggest pieces of Kat’s death, of Pratt’s hand in the drug distribution in the city, and we knew that it was only a matter of time before the other people associated with him started singing like canaries to get plea deals and lessen their own sentences.
“They’ll get help, Della.” I’d bet a lot of money that they wouldn’t get another option. That didn’t mean they’d stay clean if they were forced into a rehabilitation facility and released after a court allotted sentence. That was up to them, like Katrina’s choice to take the drugs that’d ended her life. Whether Della believed it or not, she wasn’t responsible, and holding onto guilt, onto what-if, would only send her under.
“You can’t put blame on yourself for what she decided to do. Understand me?” I could tell she didn’t, but she nodded. “Look at me. I’m not going to let you do that to yourself. Whatever happens from here on out is up to you. To us.”
She blinked, looking at me but not really seeing. It was like the thoughts in her head blinded her. “What if we left?”
That took me by surprise. “Left?”
She withdrew her hand. “What if we left the city? Left it all behind. The drama. The past. The things people know me for. Could it be that easy, Theo? I don’t think I could survive another trial. The press, the tabloids, I don’t want to be put through that again if my father is brought up.”
“Is that what you want?” My business was here, but I could do things remotely. Hire somebody to deal with things at the office. Fuck. I could sell if I wanted to. If it meant walking away with the girl, making her happy, I would.
“I want…” She paused, staring off again like she was lost in thought. Whatever was on her mind, it consumed her because I doubted the picture frame of us at her graduation was that interesting to look at right now. “I want you. I want seclusion. Quiet. Distance. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to escape this place. Not the way Kat wanted me to or Sam or Gina. I want to be me, and I don’t think I can be that here. Not anymore.” Licking her bottom lip, she lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think I was ever me because nobody allowed me to figure out who that was.”
“I think that sounds good,” I admitted. Better than good, but I didn’t want to scare her with how much I wanted to kiss her and tell her we could leave tonight if she wanted to. I knew she wouldn’t.
Her brows lifted. “You do?”
“I love you, Della. If you want to leave, we’ll leave. I’ve thought about it for a long time and there was only one person who kept me here.” I smiled. “It wasn’t Dallas, sweetheart.”
The smallest smile curved her lips as she leaned into me, her forehead resting against my shoulder as she exhaled. “I need to talk to Sophie and Lydia. And…do you think it’d be a bad idea if I went to Kat’s funeral if she’s having one?”
I kissed her head. “I don’t think that’d be a bad idea at all. I’ll go with you. We’ll keep an ear out for a service, okay?”
“You hated her.”
“I hated her family and what they made her into. Not the same thing. Even if it were, I’d still go to be there for you.” Her lips brushed my collarbone. “Doesn’t matter the situation, you need me, and I’ll be there.”
“What if I always need you?”
“You’re stronger that.”
“Why don’t I feel it then?” she doubted, moving closer to me. I wrapped her up and hauled her into my lap. Ramsay barked from the floor and watched me embrace Della on the couch. “He’s angry he’s not the one being held by you. Fairly sure he’s in love with you.”
I chuckled at that. “He’ll have to deal with being second.”
“Let me guess, Dallas is the first?”
The second I snorted, I heard a soft laugh against my chest. Her body loosened as I shifted us again, my back against the cushion with her side pressed against my front and her legs stretched across the cushion beside us. “You’re a smartass, you know that?”
“But you love me?” she asked.
“On a scale from one to Dallas?” I mused, kissing her head again as she leaned into me. “I can honestly say my life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. Now, you need to try eating something. Don’t let what happened throw off the progress you’ve made. Wouldn’t want Ripley to get after you again.”
She groaned, probably thinking about all the pamphlets her therapist had sent home with her after her last session a few days ago. “I know going to a group isn’t the worst idea, but it feels like sitting around a circle and exchanging stories about how we starved ourselves or made ourselves vomit is a bad idea. Like it’ll give us reason to start again.”
“It’s for support,” I reminded her, a conversation we had when she’d let herself into my office after the appointment and went on a thirty-five minute rant about how Ripley had wanted her to join a recovery group focused solely on eating disorders. I hadn’t gotten a word in edge wise the entire time she told me about it, only nodding so she knew I was listening. When she’d finally taken a breath, sat in the chair across from me, and politely declined Abigail’s offer to get her something drink, I said, “It might not be such a bad idea.”
She hadn’t said anything about it since.
“She cares about you, Della. It’s not a bad thing to have an army behind you. If we do choose to go somewhere else, imagine what it’ll be like to not have her in your life.”
I reached forward carefully and grabbed the plate, handing it to her. She wrapped her fingers around the edges and rested it on her lap, giving me a heavy sigh in return. “I appreciate everything she’s done for me. I’ll admit, I’m not sure what it’d be like not talking to her about life after so long. Do you think we’d go far? I mean, Sophie is still here. I know she’s a grown woman, but she and Lydia are the only family I have left.”
I rubbed her arm as she picked up the fork and sliced into the pancake stack after putting her syrup on them. “I think Sophie needs to accept you’re also a grown woman who can make her own decisions. Including where you want to live. Truthfully, I think getting out of the city is exactly what you need. What both of us need.”
She got quiet. Too quiet as she slowly ate a few bites of her food. If I could see her face, I’d bet she was staring off into the distance, or looking down at her plate but not really seeing what was there. I wondered if her tongue was poking out past her lips in concentration, or if her nose was scrunched over her thoughts.
Finally, she broke the silence. “What do you think Sophie is going to say when she finds out about us?”
Well, I knew she wouldn’t throw a party, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Della was probably assuming the worst. “I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment for both her and Lydia. For a lot of people once they know.”
She squirmed slightly. “I think Lydia suspects. She told me…” Her faded words made me rest my chin on her shoulder in wait. “Did you save the artwork I’d given you when I was younger? The stuff that I drew on scrap pieces of paper.”
I smiled. “They’re in my office.”
Another pause. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Lydia knew that. She made it seem like she knew there was more to the story than I did. So, I don’t think she’d be all that surprised once we admit we’re doing this.”
“Because I kept your artwork?”
She turned her head slightly toward me, an amused smile on her face. “Well, they were pretty bad. I know my mother threw some of them out over the years.”
In Elizabeth’s defense, there wasn’t a lot of room left anywhere. She needed to make some room for the new pieces Della gifted her parents. “I kept them because they made me happy. Even if I didn’t know what the hell they were supposed to be half the time. I’d gone through a lot of rough patches that you helped me get through back then. Imagine what we’ll get through now.”
“All because of my pictures?” The disbelief in her tone was limited, awe taking over the faint inquiry.
“All because of you,” I answered honestly. She wiggled closer and picked at her food again, picking up a piece of bacon and, as I knew she would, threw it to the dog. “Wish you’d stop doing that.”
“I wish you’d stop telling me that like it’ll change. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you feeding him scraps when you think I’m not looking.”
Grinning, I pecked her cheek. “The damn dog is spoiled.”
All she did was hum out a reply and continue eating, until every piece was gone while I peppered kisses over the back of her head, her temple, her jaw, anywhere I could reach.
Eventually, she asked, “What happened the night you came here and kissed me for the first time? You said you were angry with somebody my father knew.”
I hadn’t thought about that in a while because I’d had the real thing right in front of me. I didn’t need to jack off to thoughts of that night like I had too many times to count. “It was shortly after the first time Richard Pratt had come to my office and started insisting we become partners. Interactive Marketing was doing well. We’d gotten new investors after a few others had dropped when the scandal made the news. Pratt made it sound like he could make others drop, which would have been a huge financial loss for IM and me.
“I started drinking in my office after Abigail left for the day. Drank myself stupid, honestly, letting that jackass’s words get to me. I believed him. And, after a while, people were pulling away from IM with their money. Looking back now, it wouldn’t surprise me if Pratt told them to. Gave them money in order to take the loss that partnering with me meant. He wanted in to do God knows what. It wasn’t like I had big operations like some of the other businesses he took control of.”
“And you came to me?”
I wanted to ask, where else would I go? I didn’t though. “Yeah, sweetheart, I came to you. Even then I knew what I wanted but told myself I didn’t deserve it. Convinced myself the world would be against us because it wasn’t right I claimed you when you and your father were going through hell. It wasn’t the right time.”
She shook her head. “Would it have ever been? If my father didn’t…if he hadn’t been killed, would you have even done anything with me? You always fought it.”
“I wanted to believe there was somebody better out there for you,” I admitted, sighing over how much time I’d lost by being an ass. Whenever I got pissed at the idea of Della falling for somebody, I told myself I had no right. It didn’t stop me from turning green and smoking, drinking, or trying to fuck it out. But I didn’t want another woman. I’d wanted Della.
“I don’t want anyone else, Theo.”
“I know that.” I kissed her cheek. “I’m glad. Probably wouldn’t end well. I’d chase them off like that asshole who kept asking you to study for that history class you took last year. The douchebag with the dyed hair.”
She gasped. “Ray? I thought he stood me up when I finally agreed to meet with him at the Hut!”
I knew she did. She’d called me complaining and I offered to hang out with her to get her mind off it. I’d bought her favorite drink from a local café, ordered us dinner, and told her we could watch whatever she wanted.
I hadn’t felt bad at all.
“You kind of suck, Theo.” She didn’t sound upset, more amused than anything. “Ray. Huh. I wasn’t going out with him. I was helping him study.”
I eyed her. “That wasn’t what he wanted, and I knew it. Couldn’t let him try making a move. And don’t get me started on Pretty Boy. Watching him flirt with you makes me want to vomit and throat punch him.”
Now she was laughing. “Ren knows I’m not interested, and he isn’t into me. We’re friends and nothing will ever change that.”
I hugged her into me. “I wouldn’t ask you to change that. Nobody that truly loves you would ask you to stop being part of other people’s lives for them.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I know.”
“I know you do.”
I knew where Sophie was from the strong scent of her expensive perfume that drifted from the parlor. She was talking with somebody on the phone when she saw me, her brows lifting when I stopped at the doorway.
She hung up a moment later, dropping the phone onto a small plant table. “You’re the last person I expect to see in my home, especially when Adele isn’t here.”
“You know—” I walked toward the window that overlooked the extensive garden I knew she didn’t keep up herself, “—she prefers being called Della. Don’t you think it’s time you started calling her that?”
“Her name is Adele. Why on earth would I call her something different? Especially something as childish as Della.”
Patience, I reminded myself. “She’s meeting with a professor of hers. Figured now would be a good time to talk.”
Sophie sat at her usual spot by the opposite window that rested beside her pianoforte. For somebody who pushed Della so hard to learn, she never played herself. I knew she could, had seen it a time or two, but all it did was collect dust. “I don’t see what we could possibly have to talk about.”
That amused me. “Take your pick. It could be about the ten thousand dollars you offered Nicholas McAllister to make the article disappear and get the hell out of the city before Richard Pratt could turn on him, or it could be about the money you threw around different law agencies that your husband wasn’t associated with in case things got bad in the media. I’m sure he loved that when word got back to him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was her defense instantly. Not that I expected any different.
“Luckily for you, I don’t give a fuck what you do with your money. Or, in this case, your husband’s money. Have at it. I’m here to talk to you about Della.”
She straightened. “What about her?” Her eyes studied mine a little too carefully as I walked from the window to the seat across from her. Something clouded her vision. “Jesus. You finally did it, didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
Sophie pulled a cigarette out of a box that she’d always kept in the crevice of the seat cushion, using the lighter from the small table beside her and lighting it up. “Lydia always told me there’d come a day when you went through with it. I told her that she was crazy. There was no way you’d do such an idiotic thing as go after your only true friend’s daughter. Especially with the age difference and circumstance.”
I dropped into the seat and leisurely draped an ankle over one of my knees. “That’s why I’m here.” One of her brows quirked. “We both know Della is the type of person who cares deeply about what people think about her and the choices she makes. The last thing I want is for you to say something that makes her feel guilty over doing something that makes her happy because you disapprove.”
She blew out a cloud of smoke. “You think I can be told what to do by you? Adele is too easily influenced by people which only proves my point. She’s only latching onto you because you were there for her during the worst. What happens when she meets a boy her own age and
falls in love?”
Grinding my teeth together over the thought, I gripped the arms of her uncomfortable chair. “We’ll cross that bridge if we get there, but something tells me it won’t be a necessary worry. My concern is you.”
“Me?”
I cock my head. “You give little fucks about anybody other than yourself. If you try telling me that you paid off the reporter for the sake of the entire Saint James family name, I’ll call you out on your bullshit. You’re selfish, egotistical, and controlling. The thought of your niece doing anything remotely unethical by your standards puts your reputation at risk. That’s what I am to you. Unethical. The wrong choice.”
“Well, you’re hardly the right one for her. She’s an impressionable twenty-two-year-old who only just graduated college, Theodore. If you think anyone will think this is by any means all right, you’re mistaken.”
“Don’t be bitter, Sophie. It shows your age.” Her lips parted. The grip on her cigarette loosened and she almost dropped it on herself. Couldn’t say I wanted to explain to Della how her aunt caught herself on fire because of a conversation I had with her. “You don’t like the fact that I would never go for somebody like you. I rejected you and you never got over it. I’m only the wrong choice for her because you believe in that twisted, miserable head of yours that you’re the right one for me.
“And you know what? There wouldn’t be a day on this earth that I would ever touch you. Not just because you’re a married woman, but because I have better taste and judgement in character than your husband did. So, if you say something to dissuade Della from pursuing a path that’s going to make her happy for a change, don’t think I won’t ruin you. Because Sophie?”
Her nostrils flared.
“I’ll do it with a smile.”
“How dare you!” She narrowed her eyes at me and huffed as she put her cigarette out in the glass ashtray she probably spent hundreds on.
I stood, straightened my shirt, and smiled like I didn’t threaten her. Then again, that was why my lips tipped. She was scowling at me, trying to look scary. And failing. “I suggest when we come back together to announce the news, you say something positive. If not, I’ll happily share the reason you’re not supportive is because I wouldn’t sleep with you in my office the day you came to see me.”