Chapter 21 #2
“You were very stupid back then.”
I ignored that and kept going. “You remember how much I liked him. Loved him, really.”
“You don’t mean that.” He laughed, all deep and amused. “You could never love someone like him. What could he ever give you? Some little house in the South Side? Please, Juliette. Don’t be so na?ve.”
“I still have that letter he sent me. The one where he admitted to what he did and said he never wanted to see me again.” I kept my eyes on his, wondering if I could see anything in his own that’d alert me, that I could pick apart, but his poker face had always been top notch.
“The one where he said he never loved me and that he just wanted to use me. The one where he said none of it meant anything. That I was just some dumb little rich girl for him to try out…”
“Why would you keep that?” he asked, teeth clenching. “Why would you want anything that boy gave you?”
“It always felt like the last thing I had of him, I guess.”
“You should throw it out. Your husband can’t be too happy about you keeping mementos from your old boyfriend.”
“Gordon doesn’t know about it.”
“It’s probably best it stays that way.”
“Lately I’ve been thinking that it wasn’t him who wrote it,” I finally admitted.
That paused him, his fingers tightening against the armrests of his chair. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But that couldn’t be, right? That would mean somebody wrote a letter to me, said the most hurtful things a person could say, and then signed Bridger’s name at the end pretending to be him. That would be…”
“Ludicrous, Juliette.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Right. And you wouldn’t do that to me? To your daughter? I know we’ve never been close, and you haven’t exactly been the best father…”
A scoff left his mouth. “Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“You’d never do something like that, right?” I pressed.
“Why would I?”
“Because you never liked him?”
“That boy wasn’t going to give you what you wanted.”
“What do you think I want?”
“What do you want me to say, Juliette?” he asked, a sudden edge to his voice.
He was getting impatient. “What do you want? Do you want to talk about old times? About how you wasted your life with that criminal like the idiot you are? He’s probably still in prison!
And that’s where he deserves to be. I don’t know why you care.
Even then, I didn’t get it. You’re lucky me and your mother didn’t disown you for all of your stupid mistakes.
We’re lucky no one found out that you were involved with that boy. No one important, anyway.”
“I know you hated him, but he made me so happy,” I said. “Every day with him felt special and perfect and… I was so in love with him. When he got sent to prison, I was heartbroken. It felt like everything good in my life was being ripped away from me.”
“You’re being stupid again.” He rolled his eyes. “Is that why you’re here? To act stupid and say stupid things?”
“No.”
“Do you think I was happy about you running all over town, sneaking out at night, just to see someone like him?” he sneered. “I don’t even know what you saw in him. He had no money, he was from—”
“I never cared about money,” I snapped. “About how much he had or how much he didn’t have.”
“Well, I did. And so did your mother. How did you ever think we’d let you be with someone so… so… so poor,” he said that last word like he could physically taste it, like he was drinking venom.
My throat cleared, and I did my best to keep my anger at bay. “That letter from Bridger… I remember when it came in the mail that day. You seemed pretty excited to give it to me. You seemed almost… happy. Like you knew what was gonna be in it.”
Lips pressed together, he gave his head the tiniest of shakes. “You sound like you’re accusing me of something, Juliette.”
“Did you do something?” I asked, finally spitting out the question. “Did you lie to me? About him? About the letter? Was the whole thing just some stupid dumb lie to keep me away from him?”
He stood up suddenly, posture all straight and face stoic. “Maybe you should go home to your husband.”
“The one that hits me?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I laughed bitterly. “You saw it with your own eyes the other day.”
“I saw your husband keeping you in line. And as I can see here today, he needs to be doing a little more of that, because you clearly don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, Juliette.”
“I was really happy with Bridger.”
“And?”
“And I’m really miserable with Gordon.”
“Am I supposed to care?”
“He’s been hurting me from the day you forced me to marry him,” I cried out.
“Choking me, punching me, slapping me. Telling me what to eat, what to wear, making me have sex with him every day so I can give him a baby just so he can inherit more money because that’s so important.
I don’t love him and I never have, and you saw what he did to me, you saw it clear as day, and what did you do? You laughed.”
There was a long, too quiet silence before he straightened up his tie. “Go home to your husband, Juliette. You’ve caused enough trouble here.”
“I don’t believe this.” I let out a shocked laugh. “Actually, I do. I do believe it, because all you’ve ever wanted from me was to marry some stupid rich guy because it looked good.”
His jaw twitched. “You need to get out before I call security.”
“I’m here to talk about Bridger.”
“We’re done talking about your ex-boyfriend,” he said, picking up the phone on his desk. “I’ll get security in here in one minute if you don’t leave right now.”
“What did you do?” I blurted out as I stood up.
“Get out. Leave.”
“What. Did. You do?”
“Why don’t you go home?”
“Did you fake that letter? Was that not from him? You made me think it was from him!”
“Of course not!”
“I need you to tell me the truth!”
“You need to leave!” He slammed the phone back on to the desk, the sharp noise hitting my ears. “You need to go home!”
“You did it, didn’t you?” I asked, my head shaking in pure disbelief. My wellbeing had never been one of my father’s priorities, but to do that? To hurt me that bad and another person in the process?
“Go home!”
“You faked that letter! You faked it! You made me think he didn’t want me anymore! You made me think he hated me when really it was the total opposite!”
“I’ll call the police if you don’t go, not just security!”
“What other secrets are you keeping from me? What else have you done behind my back? How could you do something so—”
“Juliette, you were delusional!” he screamed, his gruff voice cutting me off. “I had to snap you out of it and that was the best way to do it! You weren’t giving me a choice. I did what I had to do! You were embarrassing me and your mother with that stupid boy!”
My stomach dropped, and I could have sworn I was about to faint from the pure dizziness that hit me suddenly. My lips trembled as I tried to find the words, tried to get my brain to form any kind of sentence, but my father beat me to it.
“What did you expect me to do?” he barked out. “What, let you marry him? Move in with him? Just let you disgrace me and your mother and my last name? For him? For some dumb boy with no money and no future? He had nothing.”
Pulse hammering so fast I was pretty sure I was about to pass out, I pressed my hands to my chest. “I loved him! And he loved me! We were so happy together and in love and you made me—” Then it clicked. “What did you do that night? To my painting?”
He stayed still, eyes cold. “Exactly what you deserved.”
“That was you?”
“Literally?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “No. But it was easy enough to pay someone to do that and good luck proving it. That was years ago, anyway. That’s old news. Move on already. That stupid boy is probably still in prison which is exactly where he belongs.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” I pushed my hands through my hair. Bridger had spent two years behind bars. For two years, he had been cold and alone. Without his parents, without anyone—all for a crime he had nothing to do with, a crime I blamed him for. “How could you do that to him?”
“You’re a married woman now,” he said, his tone softening. Not in a kind way. Not in a way that showed me warmth. It was all condescending, mocking words. “All that boy was going to do was drag you down and ruin our name. You should be thanking me for what I did.”
“How could you take away two years of his life and not feel the tiniest bit of guilt? Don’t you feel bad?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“God, you’re disgusting.” I took a step back from him, my arms wrapping around myself. “What about Mom? I know she hated Bridger too, but this? This is so low. I think even this would manage to horrify her.”
Slowly lifting up his hands, he grinned at me.
“Who do you think came up with the idea? Your mother is a very smart woman. She thought it’d be a good idea to send him a letter too.
That grimy little bracelet you made him was the cherry on top.
It was easy to replicate. It looked like a five year old made that thing. ”
My lips trembled. “I think I hate you. I think I actually hate you.”
“You’re acting like a child.”
“You literally destroyed my artwork because you didn’t like my boyfriend. You were the pathetic little child then and you’re a child now.”
He tilted his head, eyes studying my face, but still, there was no warmth. No fatherly love or comfort or anything. Just that look in his eyes that was always there when we were in the same room: like I was a nuisance and he was tired and bored and over it. Over me.
“Okay, so?” he said. “What are you gonna do? You gonna tell the cops? No, you’re not, because there’s no proof and no one would believe you, anyway.
You have a good life now, Juliette. You married a man who takes care of you, who provides for you.
Even when he’s injured, he still takes care of you. ”
“That injury is the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said, forcing out a laugh, but it was so hollow, so broken. “That man you love so much hates me. He hates me so much he puts his hands on me every chance he gets.”
“That’s the price you pay to be who you are,” he said calmly.
“You didn’t just marry a man. You married into prestige, Juliette.
Bruises will fade, but prestige is forever.
Be thankful. And you come into my office, barging in to complain about your old boyfriend.
It’s pathetic. Go home to your husband. Take care of him like you’re supposed to be doing, and let go of the past already. ”
“I’m not… I’m not your family anymore,” I said, shaking my head at him.
“That’s it. I’m done with you and Mom. The both of you…
I’m done. That’s it. I was already done before.
But now? I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending to care about this.
About being the perfect woman you want everyone to see when it’s the opposite. ”
Letting out a long breath, he nodded to the door. “Will you be leaving now? You’ve interrupted me enough.”
His eyes flickered back over to his computer, and then he picked up the phone, his voice breaking out into a warm, kind tone as he started talking to one of his clients.
I turned. Slowly, unsure, there on shaky feet.
I left the office, brain too much of a mess to whisper out a goodbye to Georgia and Chrissy.
It was him. I should have known that from the get-go. I had been so dumb, so na?ve. My parents had taken advantage of that, and then they went ahead and destroyed Bridger’s life while they were at it.
It took five minutes to stop my hands from shaking, for me to finally settle my mind and blink back the tears as I drove.