Page 73 of Careless Whisper

If only I’d had the sense to admit this months ago—maybe I wouldn’t have made this colossal mess of my life and hers.

“Are you in a relationship with her?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “No, Dad. She hates my fucking guts.”

“Look, Elias, if Reggie is the woman you want, then?—”

“Fuck no!”

My father gaped at me.

“Reggie is not part of my duty to the family.”

My father leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. “Your duty?” he repeated, like it tasted off.

“You always said we owed everything to the Graham name, that we had a legacy to uphold. But what about what I owe myself?”What about what I owe Gigi?

He didn’t answer. Just swirled the scotch in his glass like it might give him a better response than his mouth could manage.

“I lost my woman, Dad, because I trusted Maren, and I did that because that was duty. I had known her for years and knew her family, and I couldn’t imagine she’d lie to me. But she did. She lied to everyone, and the person who got hurt was Reggie.” I got up, suddenly feeling suffocated, and paced the living room. “I lost her.”

My father looked out the window again toward the lights beyond the glass. I almost thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but then he murmured, “Love is hell on the nerves, son.”

I looked at my father, incredulous. Nathaniel Graham did not say sappy shit.

“Look, we wanted you and Maren together, and before you say I want you with your nurse because she’s a Lancaster…well, there may be some truth to that.” He gave me a bland look. At least the old son of a bitch was honest. “But I also want you happy. You are not happy, son. Haven’t been for a long time. Your mother is worried about you. I am worried about you. Maren says she’s worried about you, but now that I know what she’s been doing, I’m sure she’s saying the right things to elicit feelings of sympathy toward her and antipathy toward you.”

He finished his scotch and set the glass on the coffee table between us. “Love isn’t about the right family or the right country club…it’s about the right person.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. My father didn’t talk to me this way. He usually ordered me to do shit and then told me he was disappointed when I didn’t.

He got up and tucked his hands in his suit pants pockets. “I’m assuming this means you’re done with Maren?”

“She was never mine to be done with,” I reminded him. “But yes. I’m done.”

He gave a slow nod. “Good. I’ll ah…I’ll smooth things over with her parents.”

“Dad, you won’t be able to smooth things overwhen she gets fired and disciplined. I say cut your losses.”

He chuckled darkly. “That’s not how the world works, Elias.”

“I guess you’ll do what you must.”

“As will you.”

“As will I,” I agreed.

I didn’t sleep well that night—like I hadn’t every night since Reggie left.

The next morning as I trudged to work, getting pretty desperate to reach out to Reggie, though I knew that I didn’t have any right to do that, a black limousine stopped alongside me.

The window rolled down like out of scene from a mob film.

“Elias, imagine running into you here,” Faye Lancaster exclaimed. She was in a Chanel suit with oversized sunglasses on her head, and a look that could reduce granite to dust.

“Mrs. Lancaster,” I greeted politely.

“Get in.”

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