When his food was ready, he took it to the table and scarfed it down.
I got him a glass of scotch before I sat across from him.
With his eyes down on his food, he ate, shoveling bites into his mouth and gulping it down like he was starving.
He probably hadn’t eaten since dinner last night—and it was almost one.
When he finished everything, he took a drink, and finally, the tension left his face.
I’d never lived with a man before, but I quickly learned not to bother with conversation if he was hungry. Once he was full, he was a different person, far less intimidating.
He looked at me for the first time.
“I’m sorry you had a rough night.”
“I’m done with Bartholomew. Once I find us a place, we can go.”
“What…? He just let you go?”
“He didn’t let me do anything. I left.”
“What about Forneus? Could we kill him instead?”
“You know if that were an option, it would have been my first choice.”
“Why isn’t it your first choice?” I wanted him to pay for all the emotional distress he caused, for killing those innocent people at the market, for the deaths of all the women who came before me.
“Because I can’t take down him and all those freaks and protect you two at the same time. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted. It’s not what I wanted either. The safety of my family is more important than my need for revenge.”
I forced myself to give a nod. “I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me…”
He stared for a long time, his blue eyes a shield against his soul. “Because you can read me when no one else can.”
“What is it?”
He sucked in a slow, deep breath before he began. “Everything that’s happened…it wasn’t by chance. Bartholomew made some mistakes after I left, and once he realized he couldn’t overcome them on his own, he knew he needed me back. So, he did whatever was necessary to make that happen.”
My eyes shifted back and forth, not understanding the tale.
“He arranged everything.”
“As in…he abducted your daughter so you’d need him to get her back?”
He shook his head no. “It was supposed to be just Beatrice.”
“I…I can’t believe this.”
“Forneus is a loose cannon, so he couldn’t control him. Then I made everything more complicated with you. Now I understand why he said everything he said…because saving you sabotaged this entire scheme.”
I continued to shake my head. “I still… Do you think he’s lying? Do you think he did mean to take Claire?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Beatrice would have sufficed.”
My eyes glanced down to his stomach, which was blocked by the table. “Did you kill him?”
“Not sure. But whether he lives or dies…told him to stay the fuck away from me.”
“How could he do this? I thought…I thought you were close.”
All he did was stare.
“I just don’t understand how he could do something like this if he ever cared for you.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“I don’t think it’s complicated at all.”
“We live in a different world…express ourselves differently. Different rules apply to us. And he…doesn’t have the cognitive ability to understand my feelings for Claire. It’s hard to explain.”
I needed a few seconds to process what he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong here…but it almost sounds like you’re sticking up for him…for putting your daughter through hell.”
“Incorrect. I just understand who he is, how he thinks, the context. You have no grasp of the context because you don’t live in that world. He wanted me back and was willing to do anything to make that happen—not realizing he’d made a deal with the devil. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving all of this behind to start new lives in a beautiful place. Canada has the highest quality of life out of all the countries in the world, so it’s a great place for us to start over. I’ll do construction again. You can dance if you want. Claire will make friends. Everything will be as it should be.”
I wanted to bash Bartholomew’s face in with a bat for the suffering he’d caused Benton and Claire, but Benton was right. It was done now. Time to move on with our lives. Move on to better things. “Okay.”
I picked up Claire from school while Benton slept at home.
Christmas had been a month ago, and we were about to break into February, another cold month. I’d wanted to spend the summer at their estate in the countryside, but that wasn’t going to happen. Canada was a pretty cold place…so I guess I’d better get used to it.
“Constance?”
“Yes, honey?”
She walked beside me, her backpack bopping up and down as she worked to keep my stride. “I have to tell you something…”
“What is it?” I kept getting distracted in my daydreams, thinking about that conversation with Benton, that Claire ended up at the cult because Bartholomew decided it. If I weren’t there to protect her…what would have happened? All that blood would have been on Bartholomew’s hands. The scars on Beatrice’s back…they were carved by Bartholomew.