by Hunter Rose
There’s no point in self-recrimination. There’s nothing to be done about the past now. All I can do is focus on the here and now, focus on the future, and make sure she never has to worry about things like deciding between making sure Kinsey is fed and clothed, or buying something nice for herself again.
“A ruthless discount shopper, huh?” I chuckle.
“Damn straight.”
My grin widens, I look at her and shake my head as she laughs. I have no doubt she can find dresses that are somewhat similar, but I’d have to argue that the quality would never be the same. As pricey as the dresses are, I don’t question the quality of the work. These are all one of a kind dresses that are handmade with an eye for quality. Because the shops out here cater to the wealthy, quality is of the utmost importance. They’re not mass-produced goods made with the cheapest materials and stuck out on a rack.
“So? Ice cream?” she chirps.
“Absolutely. But, let me do something first.”
I walk over to the sales associate, whose nametag says Kimmy. She’s been quietly shadowing us the whole time we’ve been in the shop, circling overhead like a vulture, just waiting to swoop in and snap up the commission. As I approach, Kimmy gives me a wide smile that almost looks genuine rather than the practiced and polished smile of a salesperson. Scarlet is trailing behind, grabbing at my hand, trying to pull me back to the door.
“Good afternoon,” Kimmy says.
“Good afternoon,” I return. “Do you ship?”
“Of course,” she says, her voice smoother than silk. “We offer free shipping anywhere in the United States. If you wish to ship overseas, we can –”
“That won’t be necessary,” I cut her off. “We’ll only need you to send these to California.”
“Very good, sir,” she smiles, knowing she’s about to make a sale. “Did you have your eye on a particular dress?”
“Roman,” Scarlet hisses. “What are you doing?”
I turn to her and smile. “Which one of them was your favorite?”
She shakes her head. “W – what?”
“The dresses you tried on today,” I remind her. “Which one of them was your favorite?”
She takes half a step back and looks at me, confusion and consternation on her face. “Roman, I can’t let –”
I step forward and silence her with a quick kiss on the lips. When I pull back, I smile at her.
“Pick one,” I insist. “Which was your favorite.”
Her eyes are locked onto mine, and her smile lights up her face. “The red one. With the white polka dots.”
“Good choice.”
I turn back to Kimmy and tell her that we’ll take the dress Scarlet picked out with us.
“Very good, sir,” she nods. “It’s a beautiful dress.”
“It is,” I tell her and then point out the other five Scarlet tried on – and two others I liked the look of. “And then, I would like you to send those to our home in California.”
Kimmy’s eyes light up, and I can see her counting out the commission in her head.
“A – all seven, sir?”
I nod again. “All seven.”
“Roman, stop that. No,” Scarlet cuts in. “I won’t –”
I pull Scarlet to me and kiss her again as Kimmy bustles around the store, snapping up all of the dresses I’d pointed out and heading for the register before I change my mind. Scarlet pulls back, her lips forming a tight line.
“I can’t let you spend that kind of money,” she protests. “Not on me.”
“I can do what I want. You’re not the boss of me,” I stick out my tongue, teasing her.
“Roman, I –”
I press my lips to hers, cutting her off again. She pulls back and laughs.
“Would you stop doing that?” She slaps me on the chest. “I’m trying to make a point. That kind of money is crazy, Roman. I don’t want you spending that on me.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are more practical things you can do with that amount of money,” she says.
I arch my eyebrow at her. “You saw the house I grew up in, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Hardly the point.”
“No, the point is that I want you to have the best of everything. I want both you and Kinsey to have the best of everything,” I say earnestly. “You both deserve it. More than anybody I know, you deserve to have the best of things in life, Scarlet.”
She lays her head on my chest and squeezes me tight. When she looks up at me again, I see that her eyes shimmer with tears.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I place a soft kiss on her forehead and extricate myself from her embrace – regrettably. I walk back to the counter where Kimmy is boxing up the dresses we’re shipping and fill out the paperwork. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scarlet standing before the red dress we’re taking with us, gingerly touching the material, with an expression of absolute joy and rapture on her face. It makes me smile.
The last few days in Winnetka with Scarlet have been like something from a dream for me. But I was always conscious the fairy tale was going to have to come to an end. And when we pull into the driveway in front of my parent’s home, I feel it come to an end with a resounding thud when I see my father’s car parked up by the carriage house.
I’d been hoping business – or a simple desire to avoid me – would have called him out of town. But we had no such luck. As if she picked up on the tension building inside of me, Scarlet takes my hand and squeezes.
“We’ll get through this,” she says. “It’s one night, and then we’ll be back home.”
I raise her hand to my lips and kiss the back of her knuckles. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
As we get out of the car, the front door of the house flies open. Kinsey bursts through it, her tiny feet pounding across the wide wooden porch and carrying her down the stairs. Merrick is chasing her as best as he can, managing more of a quick shuffle in pursuit, calling to her to be careful. The little girl throws herself into Scarlet, wrapping her delicate arms around her mom’s waist.
“Mama!” she squeals.
Scarlet laughs and wraps her in a tight embrace, laughing and planting kisses on the girl’s forehead.
“I missed you, baby girl,” she says.
When I come around the car, Kinsey runs to me, and I scoop her up, spinning her around. She giggles and squeals as she throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tight. I look down at the girl and see that she’s wearing a new dress of her own. It’s a frilly sky-blue princess gown with a puffy skirt.
“Well, it looks like somebody else did some shopping,” I observe.
“Gramma took me shopping. Yay!” she cries.
I look over at Scarlet, who has a small smile on her face. “I’m afraid Grandma may have created a monster.”
I laugh as Merrick finally reaches us, huffing and puffing like a man who’s just run a marathon.
“I apologize, sir,” he tells me. “This little devil is quite fast.”
“No worries, Merrick,” I respond. “She is very light on her feet.”
Merrick looks at Kinsey, doing his best to give her a disapproving look, but he can’t quite hide the smile on his face.
“A proper young lady doesn’t behave like a wild animal,” he admonishes her.
Kinsey imitates the noise a monkey makes and then giggles loudly again. She squirms in my arms, so I set her down, and she dashes back into the house, leaving us all standing there looking after her.
“She’s quite energetic,” Merrick notes, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “But she’s also quite lovely. It’s nice having a child around the house again. And I know your mother is enjoying having her here.”
I knew she would, but even still, it makes me feel good to hear. He turns to Scarlet and gives her a smile and a small bow.
“It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Carrington,” he says.
Sca
rlet gives him a hug, which seems to take him aback for a moment, but the smile on his face is warm and genuine.
“It’s wonderful to be here, Merrick.”
Merrick turns and looks at me. “Your mother has arranged a dinner for you all this evening,” he announces. “You’ll likely want to refresh yourselves beforehand.”
I nod. “Of course. Thank you.”
“I will have your things brought to your rooms.”
“Thank you, Merrick.”
I take Scarlet’s hand and start to lead her to the house when Merrick’s voice stops me. I turn back and see a look of concern on his face.
“You should know, sir,” he says, “that your father has invited a guest to the festivities tonight.”
I feel my stomach clench, and I smell the distinct odor of my father’s meddling and sabotage at work. What in the hell is he up to?
“A guest, Merrick?”
He nods somberly. “Yes sir. Ms. Webster is already inside.”
“Fuck,” I spit, before I can stop the word from falling out of my mouth.
“My thoughts exactly, sir.”
I sigh, and Scarlet looks at me, confusion and worry etched upon her face. I squeeze her hand reassuringly.
“Thank you for the heads up, Merrick.”
“Of course, sir,” he nods, giving Scarlet a meaningful look. “It’s lovely having you here, Ms. Carrington. Your presence brings a joy this house has not known in some time.”
Scarlet looks from me to Merrick and back again. She gives him a faltering smile, looking incredibly uncertain.
“Thank you, Merrick,” she says. “I enjoy being here.”
He gives her a warm smile and a nod. “Cocktails will be served in an hour,” he announces. “And dinner shortly after that.”
I turn and lead Scarlet back into the house. It’s quiet, and I don’t hear anybody, which means they’re all out back. Good. That means I can put off this uncomfortable little reunion for a while longer, although by now, I’m sure that Kinsey has announced our presence, so they’ll be waiting for us to make an appearance.
We head up the staircase and head back to our rooms. Scarlet is tense and uncertain, but she holds back from saying anything until we’re alone. When I close the door in my room behind me, I turn to face her.
“This is going to be fun,” I groan. “My dad is going all out to fuck with me this time.”
Scarlet sits down on the edge of the bed and looks at me, worried. There’s a soft knock on the door, and one of Merrick’s stewards brings our bags in and sets them down. Scarlet and I remain silent until he’s gone. When the door closes behind him, we both let out a breath and then laugh softly.
“Who is Ms. Webster?” she asks.
I can see the insecurities on her face multiplying. I hate my father even more for that. She has questions, and I know I need to answer them, if for no other reason than to allay her fears. She has nothing to be worried about. She’s mine, and I’m hers. There is nothing that’s going to change that. Certainly not my ex.
“Violet Webster,” I explain. “My ex.”
Scarlet gives me a small nod as if that’s what she’d expected. The insecurity I see on her face fills me with a pain that runs deep. I never want her to feel insecure or upset in any way, shape, or form. As much as seeing that pain on her face hurts me, it also fills me with a deep and abiding anger at my father for putting us in this position.
He knows how things ended with Violet. Knows that I want nothing to do with her. And yet, he is still trying to force the two of us together. He somehow still thinks it’s going to happen when I’ve told him a thousand different ways that it never will. The arrogance of this man, that he thinks he can control me and the decisions I make in my life only serves to breathe life into the rage already smoldering inside of me. I run my hand through my hair and pace the room, doing my best to tamp down the flames of my anger.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised he’d pull some shit like this,” I mutter.
Scarlet remains where she is, sitting on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in her lap. Her worry is palpable, so I cross the room and pull her to her feet. Still holding onto her hands, I look into her eyes and hold her gaze.
“There is nothing for you to worry about, Scarlet. She’s my ex for a reason. A lot of reasons, actually,” I reassure her. “You have my heart. Every bit of it. And nothing is going to change that.”
She gives me a tight smile and wraps her arms around me. I hold her like that, pressing her tight to my body, trying to make her feel all the love I have for her. Eventually, she steps back and pulls me down to her, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. She’s putting on a brave face, but I can see the uncertainty and doubt in her eyes.
“I should go shower and dress,” she says softly.
I nod. “Yeah, probably.”
She gives me a quick peck on the lips and leaves the room. I hate letting her go while she’s still feeling so unsure about what’s going on. But the best thing I can do is get us through this evening and show her there is absolutely nothing for her to worry about.
As I undress and head for the bathroom, I’m growing steadily more pissed at my father for putting me in this position. Even worse, for making Scarlet feel as shitty as she feels right now. Out of respect for my mom, I’ll do my best to avoid making a scene – but my father and I are going to have some words.
This kind of shit ends tonight.
33
Scarlet
Roman takes my hand as we step out onto the back deck. The gazebo out back is lit softly, with bare bulbs hanging on strings overhead. From where we are, I can see Kinsey sitting next to Marjory, their heads close together talking excitedly with one another. I love seeing my baby girl bonding so well with her grandmother. Marjory has been so good to her, and it makes me happy.
But then I see Roman’s father and another woman sitting at the table and immediately feel my stomach lurch. I can’t see much other than that she’s a blonde, but she and Roman’s father have their heads bowed together speaking, and to me, it looks sinister. Unlike Marjory and Kinsey, when I look at these two huddled together, it looks like they’re conspiring.
“Let’s get this over with,” Roman mutters.
I give him a smile, trying to control my wildly-churning stomach. We walk down the path that leads to the gazebo and step inside. Kinsey is on her feet, throwing her tiny arms around my waist. Marjory stands and gives Roman a hug, and then embraces me as well. Still clutching my shoulders, Marjory looks down at me, nodding approvingly at the dress I’m wearing – the red, and white polka dot one Roman picked up for me in Winnetka.
“You look beautiful, dear,” she smiles. “I love that dress. It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Marjory,” I reply.
Roman leans over and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “She does look stunning, doesn’t she?”
“Roman,” his father’s voice intrudes. “Wouldn’t you like to say hello to an old friend?”
Roman turns, and I finally force myself to look at the woman seated at the other end of the table. Marjory and Kinsey sit back down. Roman’s mother does her best to distract our little girl from the sudden spike in tension saturating the air around us. Bless her.
“Violet,” Roman greets her, his voice like ice.
The woman – Violet – might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen before in my entire life. And living in L.A. as long as I have, that’s saying something. She’s easily six feet tall and thin, but she has curves in all the right spots. She’s got honey-blonde hair that falls to the middle of her back, eyes like polished sapphires, and soft, smooth skin that’s absolutely flawless. This woman looks like she’d be right at home on a catwalk in Paris or in a Victoria’s Secret catalog.
I mentally compare myself to this woman and see all the hundreds of different ways I come up short. As if I needed to find new ways to feel terrible about myself. I was intimidated by Roman’s father, but it�
�s nothing compared to what I feel standing in the presence of this woman.
The living goddess that is Violet Webster steps forward and embraces Roman. He stands there, hands still at his sides, stiff as a board, as she plants a wet kiss on each of his cheeks. She steps back and smiles at him warmly, flashing a set of perfect teeth. Because of course they are. Everything about this woman is perfection.
“Roman, it is so good to see you again. I’ve missed you terribly,” she purrs, her voice flowing like honey.
“It’s nice to see you, Violet,” he says in a tone of voice that sounds like he means the exact opposite.
If she’s put off by Roman’s frosty reception, she gives no indication of it. She continues to smile at him like not a day has passed since they were together, and she expects that they’ll pick up right where they left off. Like he is her birthright or something.
She hasn’t even spared a glance at me. Her eyes are locked on Roman as if I don’t exist. I stand there feeling like a third wheel. I cut a glance at Roman’s father, who’s looking back at me, a predatory glint in his eye. He hasn’t acknowledged me either, but somehow, his apparent distaste for me doesn’t bother me nearly as much as hers. Maybe it’s because Violet was just dropped on us an hour ago and I haven’t had time to adjust to it just yet.
“Violet,” Roman says as he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to him. “This is Scarlet.”
She gives me the elevator eyes, her gaze sliding up and down as she takes me in, a look of pure disdain on her face. But she smooths out her features quickly, doing her best to at least be cordial as she gives me a weak smile and an even weaker handshake. Her social obligation apparently fulfilled, she turns back to Roman, her eyes locked on him.
“And of course, you met our daughter Kinsey already?” Roman adds, stressing the word ‘our’ to her.
“Of course. She’s a sweet kid,” she replies smoothly yet dismissively.
It’s more than obvious to me that Violet is not a fan of kids in general – and a fan of Roman having kids even less. In the two minutes I’ve known this woman, I can tell that she’s somebody who’s selfish and doesn’t want to be trapped by children. She wants to be able to do what she wants, when she wants, and not have to worry about the inconvenience having a child would present. She seems like the kind of woman who would only have a child as a prop she could use to present the picture of the perfect family to the world.