Page 208 of Poison Aches

“Governor, as your father might have told you, the Easton Family is unlike any family you might have heard of. We were raisedmeticulously, meanwhile your own family situation is very unclear,” Vaughn joins in casually as if having a polite conversation about the weather. “How can a man that cannot even manage his own household consider his name on the ticket for president of this country?”

Governor Hughes laughs stiltedly.

“I don’t think this discussion is appropriate for the evening.”

“There’s no time like the present,” Vaughn says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Across from me, Beverly looks like she’s suffocating.

“Well, I recently learned about it,” Governor Hughes responds after a while, looking like he wants to strangle someone.

“I didn’t realize nineteen years ago is termed asrecent,” Emmett says casually, but the cadence of his voice makes a shiver go down my spine.

But that’s not what grabs my attention like a vise.

Nineteen years.

All my life, I spent waiting for this man.

I imagined who he’d be, how he would be like, and if he’d love me like I see other dads loving their children—and yet he never came.

Now I’m learning that Governor Hughes knew about my existence nineteen years ago and yet last night he acted as if he'd never heard of me at all.

I stare at him, then I glance at his wife.

She hid me, threw me and Samuel away, kept Melissa, and he found out when I was seven…the year Gramps died because of me.

Around us, the program is going on, but in me, it feels like a tornado is ripping me apart from within.

The stem of the champagne flute I somehow picked up at some point breaks cleanly in my hand, but I can only stare at the people across from me.

Pain surges up in my chest until long, deft fingers reach for my right hand gently and they slowly start prying the death grip I have around the broken stem.

In a daze, I stare at my hand as Emmett gently but firmly holds my wrist, takes the broken flute away, and deposits it on the tray of a sever that appeared at some point, then he runs his thumb over the small cut along the side of my forefinger.

“You’re a bit reckless, aren’t you?” Emmett murmurs for my ears only. “Or maybe you subconsciously already know what needs to be done.”

Slowly, with a buzz going on in my ears, I turn to look at him.

“Governor, how many children do you have?” Emmett asks, staring him down.

“My c-children?” Governor Hughes stutters slightly. “Why do you ask?”

Emmett ignores him and then looks at Beverly. “Your wife must know, right?”

I look at my mother from across the table and she looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“Well, Mr. Easton, you have to understand these matters are always very delicate.”

“I can imagine how delicate selling your children is,” Vaughn says with a smile.

“And yet you are buying,” Governor Hughes grits out angrily.

“Of course,” Vaughn responds just as ruthlessly. “We are, after all, men of our word.”

It’s then that I finally realize it—or maybe I already knew—that Emmett is really a psycho.

He isn’t asking all these questions because he gives a damn, no.

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