by Hunter Rose
“It’s nice to see you again, Scarlet,” Roman’s father says from his seat at the head of the table.
I give him a small smile but can’t quite force myself to meet his eyes for long. “It’s nice to see you again too, Mr. Wheeler.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I invited Violet tonight,” he adds graciously. “She and Roman have been friends since they were children. I thought it would be nice if they could catch up.”
“Of course not,” I try to sound bright and cheery. “Old friends are the best friends.”
I look over at Marjory and see her glaring at her husband, clearly not happy with him for this little stunt. Trust me; I’m feeling exactly the same way. The expression on her face tells me that he didn’t give her any warning he was doing this, either.
Before we came down, Roman had filled me in on the situation. The two families have been friends for more than forty years. Roman’s and Violet’s fathers went to school together, apparently. They were friends from an early age, going to the same prep schools, and had dated on and off for a long while. Though Roman told me she was a lot more serious about it than he was.
Roman told me they’d even been engaged at one point, but that he broke it off before he joined the Navy, she’d never been able to let go of the past and continually tried to contact him, trying to put things between them back together. Apparently, not even moving to California had been enough to get her to stop.
Roman leads me to the table – the side opposite Violet – and sits me down next to Kinsey and his mother before sitting down next to me, leaving his ex all alone on the other side of the table. She frowns but brushes her hair back and sits down across from him, doing her best to make it look like it doesn’t bother her. But there’s a tightness around her eyes and her smile that give her away.
It’s petty as hell, but I take no small amount of pleasure in that.
Marjory gives my hand a squeeze and leans close to me. “Don’t let her get under your skin,” she whispers in my ear. “She’s a terrible person, and I would never want my son to be with her.”
Her words draw a smile to my lips and makes me feel somewhat better. But I can’t seem to break the grip of insecurities that have held me ever since I found out Roman’s ex was here. I do my best to be strong. I want to set a good example for my daughter and show her that the opinions of others don’t matter. It’s only what we think of ourselves that’s important.
More than anything, I don’t want her to be crippled by the insecurities I’ve carried with me since I was young. And although I put up a good front around her, I know that deep down, my insecurities are still there, waiting to rise up and throttle me. Like they’re doing to me right now.
Logically, I know that I have nothing to fear from this woman. Roman has professed his love for me many times over already. He’s clearly not interested in her and has done everything in his power to put her in his rearview mirror. Logic tells me that if he wanted to be with her, he would be.
And yet, my emotions and insecurities tell me differently. They tell me that I don’t measure up to this woman. I’m nowhere near as beautiful as she is. I don’t come from a wealthy family. The way she – as well as Roman’s father – look at me tells me she thinks I’m a savage in this world of the rich, cultured elite. That I don’t belong. That my kind should not be mixing with their kind. I can see it in their eyes whenever they look at me.
I feel a nervous lurch in my stomach when I see Tina and Emily step into the gazebo, each of them carrying trays – one with drinks, the other with plates bearing appetizers. Marjory is doing her best to keep both Kinsey and I distracted. She asks me questions about my life and tells me stories from her own. I appreciate the fact that she’s doing all she can to keep me from focusing on what’s going on at the other end of the table.
But I still catch snippets of the conversation between Roman, Violet, and his father. To me, it seems a lot like a swordfight, with his father and Violet thrusting and jabbing while Roman does all he can to parry and deflect. Though, he does get a few good cuts of his own in now and then. For the most part, he speaks to them with a bored disdain in his voice. As if he’s above them and this sideshow spectacle. Petty as it is, I love him for that.
Dinner goes on, and although Roman does his best to include me in the conversation, Violet does her best to divert it back to stories of their past, their inside jokes, of things that will make him remember the times they shared together – not to mention taking a few subtle digs at me. But I refuse to take the bait. I will not make a scene – which is what I assume she wants.
Which is to say, the entire dinner was uncomfortable as hell. Finally, after what seems like the longest dinner party in recorded history, the stewards clear the table, and it’s over. After bidding everybody goodnight, I take Kinsey by the hand and lead her back to the house to get her ready for bed.
I’m still too keyed up to go to sleep, but I’m looking forward to getting away from Violet Webster and enjoying a little peace and quiet.
I’ve just gotten Kinsey to bed and am padding down to the kitchen to get something to drink. I manage to navigate the hallways in the house a bit better now that Marjory has given me a rough layout of the place. I feel pretty confident I’m not going to get lost forever anymore.
Getting a bottle of water out of the refrigerator, I twist off the top and take a long swallow of the cool liquid. The house is quiet, and when I look through the kitchen windows, I see that the gazebo is dark. Apparently, everybody’s gone to sleep. I can’t deny that I feel a small sting of disappointment that Roman hadn’t at least stuck his head into my room to say goodnight.
And that thought unleashes the hounds of my insecurity, letting them rampage through my mind, my own paranoia and self-doubt making me wonder if he’s off somewhere screwing Violet. I have no reason to think he is. He gave me no reason to be jealous, and in fact, only seemed to radiate dislike of the woman. And yet, even still, my insecurity and jealousy rises up like some evil monster, trying to pull me down into the darkness within my own mind.
“I have to admit; I’m not sure what it is Roman sees in you.”
I startle at the voice behind me and water sloshing on my t-shirt, I spin around to find Violet Webster standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb casually. She’s so beautiful she makes my heart hurt, and the way she stands there being so goddamn – perfect – she might as well be posing for a photoshoot.
“I mean, I don’t want to be offensive,” she says. “But I don’t see anything special about you.”
She says it casually, as if she’s making a comment on something as obvious as the weather. Like it’s a fact I should just know and accept. I suppose, in her world, I am nothing special. Hell, most days in my own world, I really can’t argue with her. I don’t feel like anything special.
And yet, for reasons I don’t understand, Roman does think I’m special. He sees things in me I don’t see in myself. He makes me believe he thinks there’s something special about me. That I’m worth fighting for. He thinks there’s something about me worth loving. And what’s more, he makes me want to believe those things about myself.
“Wow,” I comment. “That wasn’t bitchy and condescending at all.”
A small smile touches her lips. I know I shouldn’t engage with her. Everything in me is screaming at me to walk out of the kitchen and leave her far behind. Roman is with me. He wants to be with me. And not her. My brain is telling me she’s just trying to get under my skin and that I can’t give her space in my head. But my heart is telling me to rip her face off.
“Roman is a good man,” she says, as if I hadn’t just restored to name calling.
“He is a good man,” I confirm. “It’s one reason he’s a good father.”
I threw that in her face simply to reinforce the notion that Roman doesn’t want to be with her and that he wants to be a father to our daughter. A small laugh passes her lips, as if she’s privy to some joke I’m not
. She tries to act like the reminder that Roman has a daughter with me doesn’t bother her, but I can see it does. I can see the anger burning in her eyes. I can see her resentment toward me for being with Roman. I know that it runs deeper than she’ll either show or care to admit. But it’s there. And it pleases me.
“He’s got a good heart, and he will always feel obligated to do the right thing and do his duty,” she nods. “And make no mistake, he sees having a child as a duty. If it really is his child.”
I sigh, wondering if there will ever be an end to the line of people obviously doubting Kinsey’s paternity. I’ve even suggested Roman take a paternity test, just to put the idea that I’m lying about all of this in an attempt to extort him to bed once and for all, but he’s refused. He says he has no doubts that he’s Kinsey’s father and doesn’t need to take a test to confirm what he already knows.
On the one hand, I think it’s sweet, and I appreciate that he doesn’t doubt me. On the other hand, some people like Tina, Emily, and now Violet, will always have their doubts. Or will just be looking to stir up trouble by voicing their doubts – even if they know something to be true.
“I know what you’re doing,” I tell her. “And it’s not going to work.”
She shrugs languidly. “I’m not trying to do anything,” she responds. “I just know him a lot better than you do and I’m sharing what I know.”
“Right, okay,” I say, starting to move toward the door. “Thanks for the benefit of your knowledge.”
I turn sideways so I don’t bump into her when I pass through the doorway and start down the hall when her voice stops me.
“He’s with you for that little girl,” she sneers. “Because he feels responsible for her.”
“He’s with me because he loves me,” I reply, my back still to her.
“Do you really believe that?” she lets out a small laugh. “I mean, really?”
I finally turn around, clenching and unclenching my jaw. “Yes, I do believe that,” I hiss. “In fact, I don’t just believe that; I know that.”
“That’s adorable. Naïve and sweet, but adorable,” she goes on. “You two exist in entirely different worlds. Entirely different universes. And in what universe do you think that he would truly want to be with somebody like you unless he was – well – obligated to be?”
I take a deep breath and try to control the anger welling up within me. But that anger fills me with resolve and a strength. I glare at the woman before me. She’s beautiful. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. But she’s so hideously ugly inside. She’s a terrible person who thrives on running other people down. And that’s exactly why she’ll never be with somebody like Roman – somebody who’s genuinely good.
“Look, I understand you’re upset because he doesn’t want to be with you. That he moved across the country to get away from you,” I snarl, even though I know that last bit isn’t entirely true. “But you don’t even know me so you can take your judgments of me and shove them straight up your ass.”
She laughs softly. “Charming.”
I turn and start back down the hallway, determined to get away from her, but she calls my name and stops me again. I know I should just keep walking, but I feel compelled to stop and turn around. If I could kill her by glaring at her, she would be dead a hundred times over already.
“Are you really going to let him lose everything?” she asks.
“What are you talking about?”
She folds her arms over her chest and stares at me. “If Roman stays with you, his father is going to disinherit him,” she explains. “He’ll lose everything.”
“That would never happen.”
She arches one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows at me. “You don’t know Orson,” she says. “He can be very stubborn, and when he gets his mind set on something, he will do everything he can to make sure it happens.”
“And let me guess, he’s got his mind set on you being with Roman.”
She shrugs. “Isn’t that obvious?”
I feel a lurch in my stomach and the first tingles of fear running through me. I want to say that Roman’s father would never do that to him. That he’d never take everything away from him out of spite and a desire to see him with somebody as horrible as Violet. But she is right about one thing – I don’t know him. I don’t know what he’s capable of, or what he’d do to get his way.
He’s overbearing and he’s mean – but is he cruel? Would he really disinherit Roman for being with me?
“You’re right; I don’t know you. But one thing I can tell is that you care for Roman,” Violet continues. “I can see that you love him.”
“Yes I do. I love him a lot.”
“Then if you love him, do you really want to be responsible for him losing his entire inheritance?” she gestures to the house around her. “Do you really want to be the one to cost him his family home?”
I open my mouth to reply but find that I don’t have anything snarky to say. I hadn’t given thought to the idea that Roman’s father would disinherit him because of me. I know Roman has said that it’s not an issue for him. He’s told me it’s something I shouldn’t waste the time or energy to think about. But this woman knows his father better than I do. She knows what he’s capable of, and what he’d be willing to do to get his way.
And having her tell me this is a certainty – that Roman will lose everything if he stays with me – feels a lot different. It feels a lot more real. Words are easy to say – like Roman telling me he doesn’t care about his inheritance and would be willing to sacrifice it for me. But right now, it’s an abstract concept for him. It’s not real. He’s not actually faced with the decision of having to give up his family fortune or be with me.
Words are easy to say, but when hit with something real and something concrete, your reaction might be a lot different. The last thing I want is for Roman to lose his inheritance – and then come to resent me for it. And I can’t help but think that’s what would eventually come to pass. It might not happen right away, it might take some time, but I really worry that it will happen in time.
I mean, how can you not come to resent the person who cost you a fortune?
“Think about it. Wouldn’t that be selfish of you?” she presses. “Have him give you child support. If she’s his child, he owes you that. But don’t cost him everything. Don’t turn his father against him.”
I want to scream at her. I want to punch her. I want to vent my rage on her and make her feel the pain that’s racking my entire soul right now. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair, and the hatred I feel for her is deep and it’s true. But I also don’t know that I can afford to dismiss what she’s saying. Actually, I don’t know that Roman can afford for me to dismiss what she’s saying.
“If you actually love him, you’ll do the right thing and just leave,” she tells me. “If you love him, you’ll move out of his house and have nothing more to do with him. Just cash the child support checks and leave him alone.”
I glare hard at her, angrier and more hurt than I’ve ever been in my life. She’s playing to some of my insecurities, self-doubts and worries. And although I want nothing more than to dismiss it all as the venom being spewed by a jealous ex – and some of it I can dismiss easily – I just can’t brush it off entirely. I hate that some of what she’s saying is resonating with me, but I can’t seem to stop it.
“What you do with what I said is your choice, obviously. But I’m telling you, if you force him to stay with you, you’re going to ruin his life,” she presses me. “He’s going to lose everything. And eventually, he’ll come to hate you for it.”
I feel the tears welling in my eyes and know I can’t let her see them. I won’t give her the satisfaction. I turn and walk away from her, finding my way back to my room. I stand just inside the door with my back against the wall, that hateful woman’s voice still echoing in my head.
I wish I could push it all out of my head and never think about it again.
I wish I could just write it all off as nothing more than bitter words from a bitter woman. But the truth is, she spoke to fears and insecurities that have been floating around in my head since the start of things with Roman. Insecurities I’ve had my entire life.
I do worry that Roman is with me out of a sense of obligation. That he sees it as his duty and is just trying to make the best of the situation. And the idea that he really will lose everything if he stays with me is something I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want to be the cause of that. No matter how many times Roman says it doesn’t matter to him, I know if he loses his inheritance, eventually he’s going to hate me for it.
I cross the room and give Kinsey a small shake. “Wake up, honey. Wake up.”
She stirs and opens her eyes, the tendrils of sleep still holding her tight. “Mama?”
“Get up, baby. We need to go.”
“Go where?”
“We’re going home, baby,” I tell her.
Getting back to L.A. is the easy part. What to do once we get there is a bridge I’m going to have to cross once we come to it.
34
Roman
“Care for a drink?”
My father stands at the sideboard in his study, pouring a drink. I sit in one of the wide wingback chairs near the fireplace watching him.
“No,” I reply flatly. “Thank you.”
He shrugs and puts the top back in the bottle as I look around. My father’s study is the one place in the house I never wanted to be when I was younger. When I was called into my father’s office, it meant I was in deep shit. I don’t doubt my father had that in mind when he called me in here to talk. He drops down into the chair across from me and folds one leg over the other, taking a sip of his drink and looks at the amber colored liquid in his glass adoringly.