“Never do more than what you can live with.” I recite the one thing he preached more than the shit about roles.
“With that in mind, what do you want to do now?”
“I want to marry Fleur. End this shit. Be a good father to my daughter.”
I pull the lighter from the coin pocket of my jeans and hand it to him. I’m not sure how I feel about this conversation. It’s not like we’re ever on the same page about things.
“Being a good husband and father doesn’t require another man’s blessing. I’m assuming that’s what you were talking to Lucian about?”
“You weren’t even in the room.”
“You’ve been stalking him for the last two hours. I figured you were either plotting to kill him or you have business with him.” He takes a long drag of the cigarette with a sigh.
“I thought you quit.”
“I’m going to be a grandfather. Honestly, I don’t know how you’re so composed about the whole affair. I was a mess the entire time your mother was pregnant with you.”
“She’s going to be pissed when she comes down to find you ‘oliendo como un cenicero.’” I mimic the way she says “smelling like an ashtray.”
“I can live with that.” He shrugs, taking another long pull.
“Can you?” He looks up at me, and I pretend to wince.
/> “Shit!” Looking at the smoke, he sighs, defeated. “Don’t tell her. I know how you like to rat me out to her.”
“I despise that statement. I never ratted you out to her, it was always your beloved Arabella. ‘¡Mamá, mamá! Papá esta a fumar otra vez.’ Yeah, those exact words. If I grassed you up, I would’ve straight up told her that you were smoking again…none of the Spanish bullshit.” I start for the doors.
“You know,” he says, discarding the cigarette, “for every grey hair you’ve ever given me, your child will give you so many more. That’s how it goes.”
“Really? Compared to Arabella, I was a saint. Not to mention that Georgina is the one cavorting with Freddie. I’m not taking the blame for your greys.”
His laugh takes me by surprise. I can’t remember the last time we laughed with each other, not like this.
“I like her,” he tells me.
“Fleur?”
“It takes someone special to make you care. Or even realise what’s really important. God knows I’ve tried to do it for years.”
“I look at her and I see me…a future I actually want. Fleur gives me a reason to be better, something more than a soldier or a killer.”
“You are more than those things.” He turns back to look at the lake and pats the wall beside him. “We’re not done yet, son.”
“We’re not?”
“No.”
Fuck, the nosedive of his tone is enough to get my hackles up. I knew there was another reason for him to be here than to visit family.
“We got a message from the Russians.” His voice is grave. “They want an exchange.”
“An exchange of what?” The fucking audacity sets me on edge. “An exchange…”
Turning at my sour laugh, he marks me with immovable stoicism. “Apparently we have something they want.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Charles.”