I want to make sure Ronan is fine, make sure he’s not raging or bottling everything up inside. Even those who have a problem recognising emotions know when they hit.
At the top of the stairs, a presence halts my plan — a presence I wished to never see in this house.
I wish it were only occupied by Ronan and Charlotte. Even Lars snobbishness would’ve been fine.
Anyone but him.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, and it takes everything in me not to fidget or run or dig a hole and disappear in it.
It takes all my willpower to stand in place as he strides towards me.
Edric is a big man, even bigger than his son, and because of his title, his presence seems to suffocate everything in its vicinity.
He stops in front of me, and a small smile pulls at his thin lips. “Teal, it’s lovely seeing you.”
I can’t say the same.
The information I just learnt — the fact that he’s probably not Ronan’s biological father — should delight me, because it’s this man’s downfall. A week ago, it probably would’ve.
Now, it doesn’t.
Now, all I think about is Ronan’s pain.
Just how and when the hell did I start recognising his pain when I’ve been doing everything in my power to ignore mine?
Even now, my feet are urging me to go to him, to hug him.
Wait…
Hug him?
What the hell, Teal?
“Mr Astor.”
“Edric is just fine, and don’t let Lars tell you ‘It’s his lordship to you.’ He tends to do that a lot.”
I smile because I think that’s what’s expected in response to his dry humour.
“Listen, Teal.” His smile slips, and I don’t like what I see on his features. I don’t like it at all.
In fact, I hate it.
I loathe it.
I wish there was an option to return his smile.
A man like Edric doesn’t get to show the shadow of pain or sorrow. He doesn’t get to be a human when he stole humanity from other people.
“I wanted to say I’m thankful for the time you spend with Charlotte, and even the text messages and the articles you send her. She looks forward to them every day and shows them to me with a big smile on her face. Your care means a lot to me.”
I’m at a loss for words, unsure why he’s telling me this. Besides, I didn’t do it for him.
“Once again, thank you.” His hard, stern expression returns. “I apologise if my son has done anything to disrespect you. He’ll grow up…eventually.”
“He’s grown up,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Excuse me?”