“So, Tinsley and Noah will probably get married sooner, rather than later,” I say.
“Well, Tinsley wants to start planning a wedding, but she doesn’t want to be nine months pregnant when they get married, so we’ll see what happens,” Ava shrugs.
“Personally, I hope they have a huge, fabulous wedding, because they both deserve it,” Ava concludes.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I nod.
“We were lucky with Duke Whittaker. Can you believe Tinsley’s part royalty?” I ask.
“Well she’s that gorgeous, so yes I can. She’s always been so put together, and elegant, and she never looks down on people,” Ava says.
“Once, we were shopping for maternity clothes, and there was a homeless man on the street asking for money. She just invited him to lunch with us; it caused quite the stir. She even let him take something to go. She’s very kind,” Ava says.
“I never knew that,” I say.
Ava nods.
She’s somber for a moment.
“I just wish there was something I could do about the Underprivileged Student’s fund my dad started, and can’t finish now,” Ava admits somberly.
“All of this will be cleared up, then you’ll get your chance,” I tell Ava confidently.
“Why are you so sure of this?” Ava asks.
“Because Elizabeth can’t get away with everything. This will catch up to her, and when it does, Noah will be right there; ready to pounce,” I say to Ava.
“You’re right,” Ava concludes.
Somehow, just this little moment between Ava and I, makes me feel a whole lot better.
We’re going to make things right.
We will.
34
Evan
O
bituaries - February 15, 2018
Upon her death, Mrs. Ava Darlington has been given the Honorary title of Dame Ava Darlington. Ava Darlington, the matriarch of the famed Darlington family, passed away February 11, 2018.
As the wife of Arvin Langely, famed son of oil tycoon Henry Langely, Dame Ava broke with societal tradition and continued the family name. Dame Ava survived her husband of fifty years and continued the Langely tradition of charity. Her largess was scattered throughout various New York and London charities.
For over forty years Darlington House and Dane Darlington’s Long Island Estate were the places to see and be seen, and she will be dearly missed by all of London and New York Society
Daughter of Sir. Lawrence Darlington and Mrs. Iris Darlington (neé Astor); older sister of Lawrence Darlington Junior, Alexander Darlington, and Bernard Darlington; mother of Elizabeth Darlington, Lauren Darlington and Noah Stone; Grandmother to Caleb Darlington, Jonathan and Taylor Darlington, Ellen Darlington (deceased), Leviathan Stone, Ava Stone, Corban Winthrop, Evan Stone; Great-grandmother to Grayson and Landon Stone-Winthrop.
Currently her family asks that you respect their privacy for the duration of the funeral.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t miss my grandmother’s funeral, even if I’m to report to the RAF in regards to my application to re-enlist this afternoon.
Vic was the last straw, I want to leave, get out of this mess of a family.
I’m going to fly again.
That’s the only thought that keeps me together throughout the intense, emotional funeral of my grandmother.
Corban holds Ava, my father holds Tinsley, and I hold Athena.
Victoire is watching the twins since Magda is also here.
It seems that all of London has turned up for this funeral.
Duke Whittaker and Uncle Jude, are of course, here, just a few rows behind us.
The Darlington’s insisted that we were just like family and ensured that we were in the first two rows, the ones always reserved for family.
I’m surprised when grandma’s brothers show up, because they rarely had anything to do with her before; then again, maybe they have their own lives.
As if I can have my own life, outside of this fucked-up family, I think glumly.
I didn’t even have it out with my father.
I can barely look at him for forgiving Victoire when he shouldn’t have.
No one knows I’m about to leave, I didn’t say a word.
Maybe I’ll leave a note because it really would be irrational for me to just leave for the RAF without a word.
It’s only going to be for twelve years.
By the time I come back, I’ll be a better man; a more forgiving one.
Athena leans against me, crying through the whole service, and I try to stay as strong as I can.
Then, I see a tear slip down my father’s cheek for the first time since I’ve known him, my whole life he’s never cried.
He’s lost his mother.
I must remind myself that she was important to him.
There are more important things in life than love; I need to prove that to myself.
What does it get you in the end?
Nothing but a funeral and a broken heart.
For the first time in my life, I skip something my father has told me was mandatory.
Instead of going to my grandmother’s wake, I go to the RAF office with papers in hand.
I’ve met all their requirements by the grace of God; all I must do is decide what I want.
The next twelve years of my life, committed to the RAF?
Or, do I want to try to have a normal life, without Vic?
The pain is so raw and fresh that I’m tempted to sign the paper immediately and just disappear.
Instead, I come home to find my father in his office.
“What are you doing?” he snaps at me.
“Dad, now is not the time,” I tell him.
“Yes!” he growls.
Then, he slams his fist down on the desk in front of him.
“Now is the time to talk about you throwing that girl away, when she needs you most!” he says to me.
“She made a mistake, Evan, just like I’m sure she’s forgiven you for whatever mistakes you’ve made,” my father is harsh.
“Well, I don’t know how you forgave her, but I’m certainly not going to!” I spit back at him.
“Evan, what if she actually left? What if she left you? You’re engaged to be married, are you really going to end this over something that was beyond her control? Are you going to let your rage over your mother blind you to what’s in front of you!” he yells.
Noah Stone never yells.
“I don’t care!” I scream over him.
“She lied to me!” I cannot contain my rage.
“She lied to all of us! But you’re the only one who can’t seem to forgive her!” my father bounces back at me.
“Because I love her! Because she should’ve been upfront with me!” I exclaim.
“And, Evan, if she was? Wouldn’t you just have reacted the same way?” he asks.
“Probably, who cares, it’s done, I’m gone,” I say.
I slap my paperwork down on my father’s desk angrily.
He looks up at me.
“You want to join the RAF, go,” he says, calmly.
“Go ahead, if it’s really what you want to do. I never stood in your way before, and I won’t now. But, Evan, you had best be sure that it’s what you want to do. Not because you want to run away from all your fucking problems, like a coward,” he says.
His words are slow, and they hurt.
“I am not a coward!” I spit back.
“Dammit, yes, you are!” he says, then pauses.
He takes a couple of deep breaths, and I can see he’s making an effort to get his point across.
“Evan, if you really want this, if, deep down in your soul, you feel you really must do this, then I’ll be proud of you,” he says.
The Noah Stone the world admires and fears looks at me, with concern and compassion in his eyes.
“However, I think you’re just running away the only way you know how,” he says, slapping the application.
/>
His voice is so eerily calm.
I have nothing to say.
“So, go, run! If you do run, if you really are just using this RAF thing as an excuse not to man up to your obligations, then, Evan, you’re no son of mine,” he fights back.
“I’m a Stone,” I tell him.
“You can’t change that,” I growl.
“Yes,” he admits.
“You’re a Stone, Evan. But right now, this kind of stunt, joining the RAF to get away from all your problems? That’s what a Darlington would do. Specifically, Elizabeth, Evan. Do. Not. Be. Like. Your. Mother,” he spits, holding up my enlistment papers.
His point blows me off my feet.
I must sit down.
“I’m nothing like mom,” I tell him.
“Yes, you are. You’re exactly like your mother. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you want to join the RAF because of your sense of duty, and not because you want to avoid the pain of what’s happening in your real life, I’ll let you go, and I’ll never say another unkind word to you again. I’ll be proud,” my father says, and pauses.
“But I don’t think you can do that, Evan. I don’t,” he snarls.
“Now get the fuck out of my bloody office,” he swears at me.
He tosses the papers across his desk.
“Skipped his grandmother’s wake to fucking run away! Bloody Hell! Fuck!” I hear my father mutter.
I slam the door shut behind me with so much force the door handle shakes, and the glass miraculously doesn’t shatter.
Then, I hear something fall off the door behind me and laugh.
This isn’t avoidance, I tell myself.
This is doing the right thing.
Its’s something I should’ve done a long time ago.
The thought that my father may be right is a small, niggling one, that I just can’t kill.
He’s right, damn him.
I always was good at running.
And even still, a large part of me doesn’t want to run from Vic.
Even if she did betray me.
Out in the gardens, it’s cold, but I don’t want to be interrupted, as I assume my father has told the world about my RAF plans.
I dial up Leigha, not being able to think of anything else to do.
“What’s wrong?” Leigha asks immediately.
I hear her typing in the background, and I picture her glasses perched on her head, eyes focused on the screen.
“Why do you assume something is wrong?” I ask.
“Because, Evan, you always call when you’re in trouble. It’s our thing, silly!” Leigha laughs.
“Alright, you got me,” I say.
“So? Trouble with the sudden engagement, or is there more to that story?” Leigha asks.
“Leigha, Vic used to work for my mother! She worked for my mother in the beginning, when we first got together. She doesn’t anymore, and now I’m here, with RAF papers in my hands, trying to decide whether to sign them or-”
“Work it out Evan, please. God! I know you want to fly, I get it, but the RAF is not your answer. It’s admirable, but you know why you’re doing it,” Leigha says and hits the nail on the head.
Just like my dad.
“You did it before, you’ll do it again,” Leigha says.
“You weren’t even mad at me,” I say.
“How could I be? We were barely eighteen,” Leigha says.
“It was a difficult situation, I didn’t expect you to stay, I didn’t want you to go, and with,” she stops talking abruptly.
We’ve never had this conversation.
We skip over this part of our history.
It’s a topic we do not cover.
“I think it’s time to talk about it,” Leigha sighs, as though she knows I’m about to say the same thing.
“Evan, admit it. You wanted to run because I was pregnant and you didn’t know what to do,” Leigha says.
She doesn’t sound hurt.
“I didn’t run at first,” I try to excuse myself.
“No, but your sudden proposal wasn’t really a good move either,” Leigha says crisply.
“Well, you were right when you said no, we were never a good match,” I agree.
We dance around the topic, but I must push into this.
“It was horrible, but I got through. I just don’t know if you ever let go of the fact that we lost our baby,” she says.
Have I?
“You never processed it, you were just gone,” she says without a hint of resentment.
She had a miscarriage at fourteen weeks.
I was devastated.
I never even knew why I was so devastated over something I never wanted.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say.
“No, Evan, I’m sorry for you, because I had time to grieve. I’ve made my peace with it, and I know everything happens for a reason. You haven’t. Do you think that maybe on some level, you haven’t dealt with this?,” Leigha says.
I don’t say anything for a few minutes.
“Evan, you still there?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
I can’t say anything more.
“Maybe you’re afraid, that now everything you want, is right in front of you, that the same thing might happen to you again? Maybe you’re just afraid that now that you’ve got a family, you’ll lose everything?” she finishes.
I take a deep breath.
I sigh.
“I’m only twenty-three, Leigha. How could I possibly want a life and a family?” I argue.
“Look at all you’ve been through! The instability; your mother’s reckless endangerment of her children; all the shit you’ve had to wade through. Your military services. What happened to Merc. Doesn’t it make sense that you would want stability in your life?” Leigha points out.
“Are you my friend or my therapist?” I ask.
“Both,” Leigha says sarcastically.
“Either way, Evan, you are running this time. I know you. You ran before. If there’s a chance you may lose something, you just go and don’t look back,” she says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask exasperated.
“Your heart Evan! Your god-damn heart!” Leigha screams at me.
“You think you really love Vic, but no matter if you do, you think she’s going to leave you eventually, so you push her away instead. Now, you’ve got the perfect opportunity to run again, so your going to go ahead and run,” Leigha says.
“Evan, even when you do it, again, after this, I’ll still support your decision. I am your friend, and I love you like a friend. If you keep doing this with every woman that comes along, eventually you will wear yourself out. If you’re lucky, you just might end up like your dad, in his forties, or whatever, finally with the love of his life,” Leigha points out.
I swallow hard.
She’s right, if I just keep running from love like I have been, it’ll be years of loneliness.
The loneliness that I feel without Vic around is so intense that it physically hurts me.
If I think of the fact that there will be no more kisses, or sex, or love from Vic, there’s a sharp pang in my gut, I don’t recognize.
My body tenses when I don’t hear her voice for an extended period; even now I think she’s about to come around the corner.
There’s also a substantial part of me that wants to let it go because I don’t think it will last.
Nothing ever does.
“Leigha,” I say seriously.
“Evan,” she replies.
She sounds like her eyebrow is raised.
“We would’ve worked, you and me, if I hadn’t run. Right?” I ask her.
Leigha sighs.
“Maybe. Maybe we would’ve been happy, Ev. Or, more likely it would have ended up in a profile divorce splashed across page 6, or even worse. That moment passed us, Evan, you don’t go back, you go forward,” she says.
She sounds so serious I wonder if she’s
about to cry.
Leigha cries when she’s serious about something.
“Leigha please-” I start to ask her not to cry, and then it comes.
She’s sobbing into the phone.
“I’m… sorry… I … can’t…,” and then she dissolves into tears.
“Oh, Leigha! It’s okay,” I already know what to say.
She hates it when she cries, and it’s often.
Sometimes it’s just best to let her cry.
“Evan,” her voice finally clears.
“Don’t be the Evan that will ask me the same question, about Vic, five years from now, okay?” she asks.
“Please do this for me, you have to promise,” Leigha says.
“I can’t promise you anything,” I am honest with her.
“I can promise to try to figure out what I want,” I say.
Leigha sighs heavily.
“Good enough,” she says dismissively.
This is the first time our conversation ends without a proper goodbye, we just hang up like we’re both mad at each other.
I am slightly mad at her, for not just supporting me, but I can’t be mad entirely, because Leigha doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body.
Because of me, she’d lost a lot.
Leigha tells me what I need to hear, not what I want to.
I’m still not sure I can completely get past this, but I know I have it in me to try.
Something tells me, I can’t let Vic slip through my fingers, not yet at least.
35
Victoire
February 26, 2017
Athena’s quiet sobs are the first thing I hear when I enter the east wing of the house.
I tiptoe into the library to see her sitting in a large leather club chair, curled up into a ball.
Tears stream down her lovely face and her blonde bun is in disarray.
“Athena, what’s wrong?” I ask.
“Haven’t you heard?” she asks.
I offer her a tissue, and she blows her nose loudly.
“Evan is going to join the RAF!” she begins to sob again.
I sag against whatever is next to me, and a vase full of flowers crashes to the ground, but I don’t hear the sound.
Heat_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel Page 26