Chapter 26 #2
A few feet away, Marjorie’s looking between us, her eyes gleaming.
“I actually have my laptop with me, and there’s an old table in the break room.
Why don’t you show me the property you mean, Grafton, and we can talk it through now?
I’m happy to set up a time to view, or you can wait for Henry to return to work. ”
He hasn’t looked away from me, his body still as he waits, and I dip my chin. “Okay,” I concede. “I’ll go grab us some coffees from Frothy Cakes.”
“Alright, darling,” he murmurs with a quick grin.
He ducks his head once more, slanting his mouth over mine.
His tongue demands entrance, thrusting forward and tangling with mine.
And then he’s gone, leaving me wide-eyed and breathless as he follows Marjorie through the door at the back of the shop.
Outside, the sun is shining brightly, the breeze crisp with a hint of warmth, teasing at the summer bearing down on us. I tilt my head back, lifting my hair away from my neck as my heart slowly eases back into a normal rhythm.
The last few weeks have flown by, and it feels like I’m still trying to catch my breath, wondering when Grafton will stop surprising me. At the same time, I never want that to happen.
I do my best not to measure him against the standard Christopher set because there is no comparison. And I know Grafton gets that I’m untangling years of learned experiences and rebuilding my foundations to trust again.
But I do trust him.
With my heart and with my children.
And maybe after everything with Christopher, that makes me naive. But I can’t imagine walking a different path now. Not when I know what it feels like to be truly loved by someone, and not just as an accessory on their arm.
I’m jolted from my thoughts when a nasally voice calls, “Lynley,” the familiar tone dripping with condescension. “I thought that was you, although I can’t imagine what you’d be doing here.”
Francine Delcourt is standing on the sidewalk, looking like she’s just walked out of the country club, her eyes narrowed as they laser on me. Her husband, Bradley Delcourt, stands a step behind her, one hand tucked into his dark slacks and his focus on the phone in his hand.
“Francine,” I say coolly. “Bradley.”
Her pencil-thin eyebrows arch as if she’s expecting me to say something else—probably that it’s nice to see them—but I’m making a conscious effort not to lie.
Bradley clears his throat, eyes never leaving his phone. “I would hope she’s here to hit the pavement for employment,” he drawls. “After all”—he looks up, his mean eyes landing on me—“she can’t expect to live off Delcourt money for the rest of her life, can she?”
“Certainly not,” Francine agrees, lips flattened together. “You threw that name away, didn’t you, Lynley? Along with your marriage.”
I nod slowly. “Oh, good, I was worried Christopher hadn’t told you the truth.”
Her expression grows even more pinched at the dry words.
She takes a step toward me. “Listen to me, you uppity little bitch,” she hisses.
“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but we all know you’ll be crawling back in no time.
People like you…” She sniffs. “You know, I had warmed to you, Lynley. I guess you were just biding your time to prove me right.” My brows practically crawl into my hairline because if there’s one thing this woman never did, it was warm to me.
“How long do you plan on throwing this little tantrum?” she demands. “You must know people are talking.”
It’s painfully obvious that in whatever narrative Christopher has painted for his parents, he chose to tar me with the dirtiest of brushes. I sigh. “I don’t care if people are talking. Christopher and I are officially divorced, but our marriage was over a long time ago.”
Bradley sighs loudly, putting his phone away and pinning a disapproving glare on me. “You’re showing your roots, Lynley. This just isn’t how things are done.” He clucks his tongue. “We warned that boy, Francine. We told him she wasn’t our kind.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up. “I never signed up to be in a marriage where my husband slept with other people, and if that makes me not your kind”—Francine’s cheeks flood with color at my knowing look—“then know I’m absolutely fine with that.”
She gasps dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. “How dare you!” she squawks.
The way her eyes are flitting around tells me that she’s less worried about the implication of my words and more concerned with someone overhearing us.
When she’s satisfied we’re alone, she turns on me with a sneer.
“That is quite enough. I will not see you ruin my grandchildren with your selfishness. Mason and Ginny deserve better than a parent who refuses to put their best interests first.”
A laugh bursts from my chest, startling her.
I bend over, trying to catch my breath, but when the amusement fades, I look up, catching their cold expressions.
“Oh my god. You weren’t kidding? That’s priceless.
” I straighten, shaking my head. “I guess you’ll be telling me next that you’re going to push Christopher to fight for custody.
And when he wins, you’ll raise the children and make sure I never ruin them with my ‘roots.’” I air quote the word, enjoying the way Bradley’s expression darkens at the mocking tone.
Francine presses her lips together. “It would be for the best,” she says stiffly. “They deserve better than what you can give them, and there’s no harm in admitting that.” The malicious light in her eyes tells a different story.
“And you would do a better job raising them.”
Satisfaction flits through her icy eyes, even as Bradley smirks. “Yes. I’m glad you’re seeing reason—”
I make a humming sound, cutting him off. “I guess that would be true,” I say thoughtfully, “if the two of you weren’t responsible for the shitty person Christopher is.”
Bradley’s eyes bulge from their sockets. “Excuse me?” he thunders, stepping forward, trying to intimidate me. I stare down my nose at him, unmoved.
“I mean,” I say with a serene smile, “that you raised a selfish, manipulative asshole who didn’t give two shits about his children when he was fucking anything that moved.” It’s comical, how chalky Francine’s face goes, right at the same time that Bradley flares a concerning red.
“How dare you?” He steps forward again, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“We brought you into the fold of our family, provided for you. And now you’re not only cashing in”—he sneers—“but slandering our name at the same time. I’ll make sure you never see a goddamn penny of Delcourt money.
You’ll be on the streets before you even have a chance to beg for forgiveness. ”
He’s expecting me to fold, but I give him a coy smile instead.
“I already have a penny from the Delcourts. Well”—I tap a fingernail to my lip—“it’s a bit more than a penny, I guess.
” And just like that, I’ve had enough. The amusement slips away like water down a drain as I glare at him.
“I don’t know what your son has told you, but it’s obvious that it was all lies.
You could tell him to fight for custody, I guess, and then he’d have to tell you that he signed away the right to my children when he signed the divorce papers. ”
There’s a tense silence before Francine insists, “Christopher wouldn’t do that.”
Bradley hasn’t taken his shrewd eyes off me. “What did you do?” he says. “Did you blackmail him?” His lips curl into a smug smile. “You did, didn’t you? And I’m sure you’re aware that’s a crime.”
Francine gasps again, her eyes lighting up with glee. “Oh, you stupid girl.” She laughs triumphantly. “We won’t have to fight for custody. Not while you’re rotting in a federal prison.”
“You’re right,” I say cheerfully. “I did blackmail him.”
“I knew it—” Bradley reaches out like he might grab me, but I quickly evade him.
“Well, actually… You might need to educate me on this. Is it blackmail when I just say that if he doesn’t do as I say, I’ll tell everyone the truth?
I wouldn’t be lying or anything.” I tilt my head, pretending to think.
“I’ll just tell you what I told him, and you can decide for yourself.
” I step closer, the tips of my boots almost brushing Bradley’s.
“If you and your family try to interfere with my children and me, I’ll release every shred of evidence I have on Christopher and his whores, including the twenty-something-year-old he knocked up.
” I smile. “How long do you think it’ll take the press to connect the dots and start looking at the two of you, hm? ”
Bradley’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say a word. Francine steps into his side. “You’re lying,” she declares, a wavering thread to her words. “You’d do anything to tarnish the Delcourt name.”
I tut my tongue. “You’re projecting.”
“What evidence?” Bradley asks reluctantly, and his wife shoots him an angry look. “We need to know,” he hisses at her. “We have to know what we’re dealing with because if the media gets wind of it…”
As one, they turn back to me. “Christopher is a bit of an exhibitionist,” I declare calmly.
“He liked to film himself in his office.” I pin a pointed look on Bradley.
“I did not divorce that man out of pettiness or spite, no matter what you might think. I value my children and myself more than staying with a man who was willing to risk everything just to get his dick wet.”
“What the fuck is going on here?”
I glance over Francine’s shoulder as the man himself bears down on us, his blond hair disheveled and his face almost ashen.
He looks like he’s lost weight since the last time I saw him, and like he has aged about a decade.
There’s no regret or hate in my heart as I stare at the man I stood in front of God with and vowed to love.
Instead, I feel nothing but relief that he’s no longer my problem.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” another voice growls. Heat presses against my back as a heavy arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me back into him. Grafton leans to press a kiss to my temple. “Trust you, darling. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you get ambushed by the trash.”