He grabs the glass. "No." He leans back and hangs his thick arm over the back of the leather sofa, rocking the amber liquid in his glass with his thumb and forefinger. "I despised him from the moment we met."
I swallow hard, those words moving deep into my heart as though he were talking about me. I lift my chin to hide the vicarious hurt. "Why did you despise him?"
"You are not your father."
"I didn't say—"
"Bad blood within the Families isn’t uncommon, but made men take an oath and we keep the peace. There is alotof bad blood when it comes to your father and the people I care about. A lot of pain. Deceit. A lot of disappointments. You—" He pauses, measuring me up, and my chest tightens under his scrutiny. "Your existence, my girl… is not part of those disappointments or that bad blood."
I exhale hard over the sentiment laced through that statement. Despite the fact I can’t read him for the life of me, he clearly has a view of my very visceral thoughts. I'm as transparent as a glass castle. Behind that thin sheath, I'm testing my place within his family, dipping my toe in to see if he'll accept me.
He nods at the whiskey I have clutched in my lap, and I smile, bringing it to my lips. The smoky scent that reminds me of Clay caresses my nostrils, then my mouth as I take a small sip. It is like drinking a bushfire that tore through vines of overly ripe fruits and berries. It is sweet and chaotic, delicate yet masculine; I hum around the flavours.
I fuckingloveit.
I'm a whiskey girl now.
"You like whiskey. Good girl. Now, what do you want from this new world you find yourself in, Fawn? It is a part of who you are, so what part of it do you want to accept?"
I swallow the woody fire and clear the scorched aftermath before saying, "I just want to be with Clay, be what he needs, but he's…"
Married.
The word drops into my mind quietly, my mouth parting to say it aloud.He has a wife.And I like her. Which makes this whole arrangement even stranger. It would be easier to hate her. The rational parts of me know that she is just his business partner, that they don't share a bed, have never shown any sexual affection, just mutual respect, but a part of me wants to be greedy.
A big part of me.
I wantallof him.
A white dress.
To walk down the aisle.
To be his everything, like he is mine.
Happily-ever-after for FawnHarlowButcher.
"Aurora will not give my son children," Luca interrupts my thoughts, another contemplation that must have played out across my face.
I slowly shake my head, saying, "I don't think he wants children, Luca. He was only willing to care for me because—"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Neither did I until later in life, but I found myself with them before I was ready. My son is smarter than me. He doesn't do things in halves. If he's a father… Well, he won't be like me. I made mistakes with them all. All my boys suffered, but with Clay—Clay was basically an orphan, like you, my girl."
"You did give him family. His brothers. There is so much love between them. I—"
"They created that bond all by themselves. They could have been at each other's throats, but they weren't. I don't know who that bond is accounted to… but it sure as hell is not me."
"You are too hard on yourself—"
"None of that. Don't soften the situation for my benefit, girl. Listen and understand," he states, and I hold my breath along with my innate need to comfort him. In that way, he's just like Clay. He's discussing his mistakes, showing a sense of guilt, but that’s only half of what he's saying.
What he's really saying is: 'I fucked up. I want you to know that I fucked up, and I'm accountable for it, but you may not make me feel better about it or console me.’
Are all men like this?
I wouldn't know. If I'd had a dad or even an uncle, maybe I would have a point of reference.
I think Luca and Clay would prefer me to stone them for their mistakes rather than forgive them. As though neither of them has a person to show them forgiveness, to allow them to wallow in their mistakes, togrieve them.