He studies me for a long minute. “Did you fuck her yet?”
I’m not sure if it’s the question itself or the way he phrases it that gets my hackles up.
“That’s none of your business, is it?”
“Her mother was a whore, you know. Like mother like—”
“That’s my wife you’re talking about. Be. Very. Careful.”
His expression darkens but he doesn’t finish the insult. He changes gears. “How much are you willing to sacrifice to avenge your dead fiancée?”
My hands fist, my heart hammers against my chest. I’m going to kill this man.
“It would be a shame if your pretty little girl became an orphan, wouldn’t it? Wait. Would that make Isabelle her mommy?”
“Why did you say it?” I repeat, fingers digging into the arms of the chair as I tell myself to keep calm. To remember why I’m here. To not let this man rattle me. Because it’s what he wants. It’s all he wants.
He throws his napkin onto his plate and pushes his chair back but instead of standing, he leans close to me. “Sometimes it’s better to hide in a corner and lick your wounds. Admit the better man won. And walk away while you still have something to lose.”
I lean toward him, too, but he doesn’t back away. “Why did you fucking say it?”
He grins. “You want to know about daddy dearest and your dead sister? Let me ask you this. How badly do you want to know? What are you willing to give up for that knowledge? What do they say? Ignorance is bliss, did I get that right?”
He stands.
“Are you so anxious to know the stock you come from? Because you’re just like him, aren’t you? Even the fucked-up eyes. A carbon copy of dad. I just hope you don’t commit the sins he did. Recycle an ugly past.” He takes a step away but stops, turns. “Just ask Zeke if you’re not sure what I’m talking about.”
34
Isabelle
I walk out into the hallway and remember my promise to Angelique to kiss her goodnight when I returned last night. Feeling guilty, I walk toward her bedroom, not sure she’ll be in there. I’m surprised to find her door open a crack and Angelique inside with Leontine and an older woman I’ve not yet met.
“Good morning. Or afternoon,” Leontine says, making a point of checking her watch.
I blush. “Good afternoon,” I say in a quiet voice as Angelique looks up from her small desk and waves. I realize this must be her teacher. “I can come back if it’s a bad time.”
“It’s all right,” she says. “Come in and meet Mrs. Strand, Angelique’s teacher.”
I extend my hand and shake hers. She smiles but her lips are more pursed than anything else and I wonder if they couldn’t have found a friendlier looking teacher for the little girl. But I stop myself. I’m judging and it’s not fair.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Strand says. “It’s nice to meet you and although I don’t expect interruptions daily, I understand last night was a special night.”
“Well, I don’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to check in on Angelique. How are you doing, sweetheart?” I ask as I walk around the desk and look at the book they’re studying. “Oh, that has pretty pictures,” I say, crouching down beside Angelique’s chair.
“I like my princess books better,” she says. “This one’s too easy.”
“Memorizing is not the same as reading, child,” Mrs. Strand says in a tone that bothers me.
“I didn’t memorize,” Angelique says, casting her eyes down.
I rub the little girl’s back. “We can read a princess book later, okay?” I whisper in her ear.
She nods but I see how her eyes glisten when they meet mine and I wonder how sensitive she is. And how a comment like this dour old woman’s could hurt her tender feelings. I make a funny face to show her I’m on her side and she giggles.
“Daddy’s going to teach me how to swim this afternoon,” she says.
“He is? That’s great.”