Gran rises to her fullest height, which only grazes Clifford’s shoulder, but there’s a power in the old lady that makes it difficult for me to move.
“I have entertained this ridiculous venture quite long enough.” She stares me down. More power in her small frame than I’m used to her showing. “This boy does not know how we behave. He does not reflect well on our family. And you’vebeen behaving completely out of hand since he appeared and I’m quite done.”
“You’redone?”
“I will not have this family made into a mockery after everything we’ve achieved. We belong in theTimesand theWall Street Journalnot splashed all over whichever trash publication gossip site I’ve been subjected to today. It ends. Now.”
The need to lash out and tell her where she can put her demands is right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow that need down. Bury my frustrations under a mask of polite detachment. “And you don’t think a failed engagement will grace those same gossip sites?”
“To be perfectly frank, I don’t give a damn.”
“Well said, Grandmother,” Clifford simps.
I’m at thirty to seventy odds now, and if he doesn’t get the hell out of my house, I’ll break that stiff upper lip he’s so fond of. “Well, it appears we’re at an impasse. I must marry for my inheritance, so while trying to fulfill Pa’s wishes, I’m going against yours. You’ll have to understand, this puts me in an uncomfortable position.”
“Your grandfather would be disgusted by your behavior.”
I’m hit with a flash of a memory. Pa, two pairs of glasses perched on his head while he enthusiastically detailed the rail network in Europe to a local senator at one of his parties. The way his sherry sloshed over the rim of the small glass, the way his face got redder the more he drank, the way he crashed into a server and helped her scramble around on the floor to pick up the hors d’oeuvres.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps he would have been incredibly proud of me. Either way, his will is iron clad. I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain and once I have my money, I’ll be flying back to Amsterdam, where you won’t need to worry about gossip sites ormy husband groping any respectable gentleman besides myself. Because I quite happen to like it when he gropes me.”
“Émile Jean Cromwell,” Gran seethes. “I will not be spoken to like that.”
“Not a problem.” I stand and grab my keys. “As I said, I was just leaving. I’m sure Elle would love to make you a cup of tea.”
Elle gives her most angelic smile. “I’m sure I saw some tea bags around here somewhere.”
Gran looks faint, and I’d worry about upsetting an old lady if I didn’t think she was going to outlive us all through sheer force of will.
I make it all the way to the door before anyone speaks again.
Gran’s voice is back to pleasant tones. “Very well, Émile. You do what you need to do. But you can trust I’ll do the same.”
My footsteps falter for a split-second, but I brush it off and keep walking like I haven’t heard her. I’ve been over that will a thousand times. I’ve had my lawyer review it, assess the doctor’s letter stating Pa was of sound mind when he changed it, there’s nothing she can do. Without the threat of cutting me off, she has no power over me.
It’s hard to convince my head of that, though, when I’ve been raised my entire life to defer to her judgment. Walking away leaves me with this itching sense ofwrongness.
It’s how I know I’ve made the right choice.
Chapter 24
Christian
Is this what rock bottom feels like? I sit backstage, senses dull and brain a blank canvas, numbing me from going over and over what the hell just happened. Reece reassures me that it was an off day, that it was one performance, blah blah blah, but it’s kinda hard to follow his voice when the smell of my unleashed breakfast is clogging my nose.
“One show in a three-week block is nothing. I know it was embarrassing, but you’re not hurt. That’s the main thing. Tomorrow, you’ll be back out there nailing the choreography like you’ve done every other day.”
I give him the most incredulous look I can manage.
“Nope. Enough of that,” he says. “You’ve worked way too hard on this, brother. I’m not letting you slink away in embarrassment. These things happen, and the best way forward is to get back out there. I would have sent you back on stage already if you weren’t basically comatose.”
“Heh.” I’m not sure if the noise is supposed to be a laugh or a disagreement, but I can’t bring myself to commit to either.
“Go home. Have a big dinner. Sleep it off. I expect you here tomorrow.”
The sounds of the final song reach my ears and only the horror of having to face everyone makes me push to my feet. I’m still in full costume and makeup, but fucked if I’m hanging around to change, and thankfully Reece doesn’t ask me to.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk outside. It’s already night, and I have no idea if it’s cold or not, because I’m in an insulated bubble of shame. Getting into the car, turning it on, pulling out onto the road, and driving home … it all exists in a vacuum, and I’m only concentrating enough to make sure I don’t end up in an accident.