Page 142 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Forty-Eight
Anthony
Dark circles show under Father’s green eyes, the lines around his flat mouth deeper than I remember. Regardless, he’s still as imposing as ever in his navy suit.
I start to stand. I have nothing to say to him.
“No, no. Sit down. I see Sherry didn’t bring you anything to drink.” He comes around and takes a seat opposite me.
“I didn’t want anything,” I say stiffly. “And I’m here to see Edgar.”
“I know. I asked him to bring you here. I didn’t think you would see me otherwise.”
I scowl. What the hell was Edgar thinking to agree to this? Does he really think there’s anything left for me and Father to talk about? If he wanted to talk—really talk—he could’ve come to me. This is just a petty power play. Luring me to his turf.
“Don’t be upset with your brother. He didn’t want to do it.”
“You could’ve come over to his place,” I say coolly. “You know that’s where we’re staying.”
“Yes, but I thought we could talk without Ivy around.”
More like he doesn’t want to face Ivy or what Mother has done. Disappointment and anger stab through me. This is going to be just like the disastrous talk we had after Lauren’s death, which ended with him publicly disowning me. Except this time, there’s nothing for him to take away. What I have, I built, with my own hands.
“Tony.” His voice is rough and gravelly. “We need to talk.”
About what? Defending Mother? To ask me to apologize to her for upsetting her and ruining the dinner last night? Father’s always been on her side. Team Margot Forever, I think bitterly. “No, we don’t. I’m planning to leave soon and don’t have the time.” I start to walk away.
“Yes, we do! Sit down!”
The sharp order stirs up my old resentment. Maybe if I didn’t know about what Mother cost Ivy with inaction, I might’ve shoved it away, but now I can’t. The pain pours out of me. “Why? So you can tell me to fix it…again? Was Mother hysterical last night after we left? I’m not lifting a finger to soothe her or tell her I’m sorry, because I did nothing wrong this time. She hid the fact that Ivy was alive and that Caleb Wentworth ran her off the highway on purpose.”
“Tony—”
“You always wanted me to fix my own screw-ups, even when I was twelve. You didn’t speak up for me after what happened with Katherine, even though Edgar did. Why not?”
Rough breathing is my only answer.
Of course. Why did I think—hope—he had some reason for what he did? Why did I ever think he was protecting me in his own way?
More disgusted with myself than him, I continue, “Then, after I graduated from Princeton, you asked me to come home because you wanted me to grovel and beg until Mother forgave me. But what did you do to soften her toward me? Nothing. You were too busy working, too busy being Tulane Blackwood. Then, two years after Ivy’s ‘death,’ you came out to L.A. not because you were worried about me on a self-destructive path, but because you were worried about my behavior tainting the family’s reputation.”
Emotion burns in his eyes. “Is that what you think it was?”
Is he serious?Nasty laughter tears from me, and my throat burns. It’s too fucking late for him to put a pretty paternal gloss on our past. “Fucking right I do! Are you going to tell me it wasn’t? Even now, aren’t you thinking there must be a good reason Mother did what she did? Aren’t you thinking about the family’s reputation? Don’t worry. I’m very much aware that I’m disowned. I’m only a Blackwood because I couldn’t get myself a new name. But maybe I’ll take Ivy’s name once we’re married. Anthony Smith has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Then you and I won’t have anything to do with each other.”
Father is livid now, his big hands clenched into fists. His volatile feelings are ugly and too intense for him to hide.
But I can’t stop. Even if it means he’s going to lash out at me physically like Ivy did Mother. “I don’t care what you do, but keep Mother away from me and what’s mine. Or I’ll fight you. And I’ll destroy you, using whatever means necessary.”
A beat of taut silence. “Do you hate me that much?”
If I sensed even a hint of pride, I would’ve said yes. Instead, I close my eyes for a moment and organize my spinning thoughts and emotions. “Hate is too simple a word for what I’m feeling.” It’s as though disappointment, hurt, resentment and wistfulness have razed my feelings for him until there’s nothing left, except aching hollowness. “No. I don’t hate you. I just… I have no expectations of you anymore. When Harry told me you had clippings of my business success, I had hopes. Silly, ridiculous ones. I thought maybe we could reconcile. Or something. But you never reached out. Mother didn’t want you to. I should’ve known something was off when Edgar called with an invitation to Tempérane. You and Mother only wanted to know if Ivy and I knew about what she did, didn’t you?”
“Tony, no.” His voice cracks. “I didn’t know. I would’ve never allowed her to hide it from you if I’d known. You’re my son, but she’s my wife, and I love her. She changed when Katherine died.”
The hollowness makes way for guilt now. A knot forms in my chest, then grows until it’s painful. “I know she did. That’s why I paid and paid. And then paid some more. I wanted things to go back to way they were. I wanted her to change back. But what she did to Ivy? That’s…beyond the pale.” I hold his eyes. “I’m going to protect what’s mine, Father. I love Ivy. She’s my world, the only thing that matters now.”
“Your mother…” He places a slightly shaking hand over his face. “If you both could just consider the slate wiped clean… If we could all just start over…”
