Page 124 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“I’m just so angry,” I admitted. “None of this should’ve ever happened. I wasn’t embarrassing the family. We were staying out of the media lens. This was personal, Blake. But why? All we did was…”

“Was what, sugar?” Murielle asked and I looked up to find her leaning forward, as if totally invested.

“Get married,” Blake finished, and I didn’t have to see his face to know he’d turned red. I heard it in his voice. I heard red, the hurt mixed with anger.

“You got married?” she asked, confused.

“Yes.” I shook my head to rid it of the murderous thoughts. I’d have—get ready because the situation deserved this word—fuckinglost money. “We got married and there are people who don’t like that a Parker married a Kowalski.”

I couldn’t do this. Not now. They needed to pay—no,sheneeded to pay. I knew,knewthat it wasn’t Brock or Robert, or even Emily. Adair. Adair hired Candice. Adair wanted nothing more than to get me out of the family. No matter how she tried to sever my bond with the Parkers, it wouldn’t work. We were connected for life.

“I will kill my mother,” Blake said, but I shook my head, then kissedhischeek. “How could she stoop so low?”

“Who?” Murielle asked, and honestly, given all the work she’d done, she deserved an answer. I waited for him to compose himself enough to speak. Then he did. “Mymother.”

Murielle gasped—loudly. “Oh, sugar… Now I know why I hate rich people.” Her eyes moved between Blake and me. “Present company excluded. Pardon my shock here, but my dear mama would cut off her own lady balls rather than betray one of her offspring. How do y’all deal with a betrayin’ mama? You can’t cut her,” she said and the laugh burst from deep in my belly because in that moment, Iwantedto cut her—Adair, not Murielle—and Murielle saying we couldn’t slapped me right upside the head.

“Are you sure?” Blake asked andyeah. I felt that too.

“No, Blake, if it can put you in prison, it’s wrong.” It felt appropriate to remind him. “Think of the baby.”

“Why do you have to ruin my fun?” he asked and that question lifted the angry cloud hanging over us in the back yard. The sun peeked through again, even though it’d set a while ago.

“So we’re all on the same page here,” Murielle started, “matricide is wrong.”

“It is,” Blake agreed, and I wondered what we were going to do about Adair Parker when his lips curled up at the ends in what could only be described as a deviously evil smile. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t figure something else out.”

“All the fun with none of the prison time,” I said, liking this idea.

“Well…” Murielle stood from her chair. “I have to get going. I have to head out early because some of us have work. It’s a four-hour drive and I start at nine.”

“What? You’ll have to be on the road by like five in the morning,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Let me fly you down,” Blake offered. “It’ll be a thirty-five-minute flight, at most.”

“That’s sweet, but I have my car at the hotel.”

“Drive your car here. We take you to the airport. You can fly out. Private jet. Then I’ll have my driver take your car home, he can hop the jet before it heads back up here. My driver’s sister lives in the city. I’ll have her meet you at the airport. She can drop you and the car at Bernhardt Management Services. You can drive home from work.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “That seems like a lot of trouble.”

“Trouble?” I asked, shocked. “All the help you’ve given us and you think it’s not worth us going through a little trouble?”

She made a sound in the back of her throat, as if coming to a decision. “Well…” She paused. “If you don’t mind. That’d be nice.”

“Not at all. Is 7:30 okay?”

“Sure, sugar.”

“It’s settled, then.” Blake pulled his phone from his front pocket and pressed a number. After a few beats, he said, “I need the jet tomorrow. 7:30a.m.sharp. New York City.” He paused more. “A passenger on the return flight, too.”

My husband was a genius. I loved him hardcore. Thehardestcore.

“But I still need to get going,” Murielle mumbled. “I got me a food baby.” She patted her belly. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be asleep on your sofa in ten minutes—and I need my jammies.”

We understood. As Blake and I walked her to the door, he said, “Be here by 7:00.” She nodded. The three of us paused at the front door and I leaned in to hug her.

“Don’t be a stranger, you hear?” I said, and I almost sounded Southern.

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