Page 62 of Van Cort
“Remembering what?” Us. Her.
“Childhood.”
“I hope what we just did wasn’t part of your childhood.” She laughs lightly. “That was far too risqué for children.” Hmm.
Silence.
Her heels start moving. “Everett, do you mind me asking something?”
“I’m not sure until you ask.”
“Well… Were you happy here? As a child? You’ve seemed lost in your head a few times now, as if some of the memories you have here aren’t good ones. Or being here isn’t enjoyable for some reason.”
“That’s an intrusive question.”
“Sorry. I did ask first, and I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Yes, you did. As you said, we’re here to find each other. I’m not an easy man to find, and asking is the only way you’ll manage it.”
“Okay.” A pause in the air, like she’s questioning pushing or not. “So, do you have an answer? We could talk about it if you like.” Him? Talk?
Although, there’s silence again for a while. Perhaps he’s considering it. She’s probably gazing lovingly into his eyes, desperately asking him to give a piece of his black soul to her. He won’t. No fucking way will he be honest about any number of feelings this place might bring out of him.
“I’d like to talk.” He would?
“Okay. That’s good. Open and honest communication.”
“But do you mind giving me a minute?” he says. I smile and open my eyes, ready for a brotherly chat. “I’ll be back with you soon.”
“Umm, yes, of course. I’ll see if there’s anything to salvage of our meal.”
I wait until she leaves and then push through the doorway into the room again, leaning my back on the panelling the moment I’m in his space.
We stare at each other – me smiling, him frowning.
“Shall I finish the evening for you?” I ask, quietly. “She’s turning emotional, and we both know where that might end.” His eyes narrow, as he picks up a glass of wine from a side table. “How’s that obsessive streak doing, Rhett? Your rutting looked like you were trying to prove a point. Smearing her with your cum? Mine. Isn’t that what you used to say?” I look at the glass in his hand. “Drinking again, are we?”
His frown dissipates, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, and he starts walking for the open door. “She is mine. You were right, I do want her to be my wife.”
“Is that the alcohol talking? Or jealousy?”
He pushes the door closed and looks back at me, whilst downing the entire glass of wine. “Neither.”
“Well, it’s not love, so what is it?” He doesn’t answer, so I make a move for the door to where she is.
His hand on my chest stops me.
“West, we can do this. Iamdoing this. But she’s important to me. Make her important to you, too.” I wait for more to come from his mouth. “If you’ve only come back to fuck her and me up, we’re done.”
“You know why I’m here. I told you-”
“I don’t believe that. Not entirely. There are better ways to exact revenge.” Destroying his happiness is the only way to exactrevenge as far as I’m concerned. “You could ruin the business or tell the world what happened. But you’ve done neither, have you?”
“That wouldn’t hurt you as much as taking something that’s yours away from you.”
“True. But what if what I feel is love?”
I scoff and walk for the old drinks tray, hopeful it’s full of something. “You don’t love her. You don’t know how.”
