“It’s nice to see you all,” I try.
“I wish I could say the same.”
Okay, well looks like his gran isn’t interested in playing nice.
“Look, I know you don’t like me, but Émile does—”
“Keep my son’s name out of your lying mouth,” his dad snaps. “I was prepared to overlook this impetuous, ridiculous union until—” He thrusts his arms toward Émile’s gran.
“You lied to us all,” she says. “I have no idea if Émile is privy to the knowledge that you’re estranged from your family, or that you live in a commune, but you have exactly sixty-eight dollars in your bank account right now and over a hundred thousand dollars in debt.”
…
…
Fuck.
My jaw drops, and I hope something comes out. Some excuse or reason or … or …anythingthat will make all of this go away. But I’m only capable of one word, and basically, I would have liked it to be just about anything else. “Fuck.”
His gran sniffs delicately, but I can tell that she’s happy with my response.
“That’s all you have to say to us?” his dad snaps. “Profanities? After trying to swindle my son out of his money.”
“I didn’t.” Yes, thank you. Words. “I never lied to—” Shit. Not those words.
“Heknew?” His mom gasps.
“Ah,no. I mean … maybe. Look, I really think he should be here for this conversation.”
“That won’t be necessary.” His gran’s voice is cold. Commanding. “I’ve seen and heard enough. You can leave. And once you’ve left, you will contact Émile and tell him it’s over.”
What the hell? And maybe I wish he was here, and maybe I wish I could hide behind his confidence and hope this all goesaway, but I know exactly what he’d say in this situation. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Yes, you bloody well are.”
His gran holds up a hand, silencing his dad. “It’s … admirable you think that. That you would want to hold tight to this …” She waves her hand like she’s searching for a word. “Fallacy. However, I don’t recall giving you an option. Now, I suggest you leave with little fuss and no contact with my grandson. I assure you, Darcy will ensure he’s taken care of.”
“He doesn’t want Darcy.”
“He doesn’t want you, either. Not deep down. He’s going through a rebellious phase, and I will not let his impulsive decisions ruin his life.”
“I would never.”
“So you agree then?”
And even though every part of me wants to shrivel and die under her cold stare, I grit my teeth and shake my head. “I won’t leave him until he asks me to go.”
She sighs heavily, but my bullshit sensors are on high alert. It’s then she holds out her hand and his dad places a piece of paper into it.
“I didn’t want to do this, Christian, but you’ve left me no choice.”
“Do … what?”
She clears her throat and says, “Does the nameRosswell Housemean anything to you?”
Fuck.
There’s that word again. My heart starts hammering madly.