Chapter Eight - Cynthia
I tidy Leigh’s room for tomorrow’s festivities, smoothing her bedsheets and organizing the scattered jewelry on her antique vanity.
Janus came and found me at the party not long ago.
She asked me to go to Leigh, insisting she needed her mother but refused to say why.
By the time I found her, Leigh was distraught, so I convinced her to take a hot shower to help her relax.
Hopefully, she’s scrubbing away her worries.
Entering her closet, I pick up the dress she wore tonight and place it in the hamper.
The garment bag holding her wedding dress hangs nearby.
I was there for her first and last fittings with the designer, and the dress is nothing short of elegant and refined, just like her.
Even during her wild phase with boys and booze, Leigh still exuded grace.
She’s carried herself like a queen her entire life and deserves all the happiness I almost took from her.
Looking at her dress reminds me of my own wedding—and the lies that followed. When I agreed to marry Gwyn, I was already pregnant with Don’s child. Gwyn and I lied to everyone about Fynn’s parentage, choosing to protect our son and our family’s reputation rather than admit the truth.
Lying to Fynn will forever be one of the biggest regrets of my life, but before Leigh helped her father’s ghost cross over, Gwyn helped me work through a lot of the shame. Thanks to him, my daughter and I now have a relationship.
I love Leigh, but I still miss Fynn every day.
My son. My perfect boy.
Except it’s not about Fynn. This weekend is about Leigh, so I feel responsible for helping fix whatever’s bothering her. I owe it to her after years of neglect.
The shower shuts off just as someone knocks on the door. I walk past the dress to answer, blinking back tears for my broken family.
“Yes?” I say, coming face-to-face with Wilder. His eyes are red, and he looks tired and resigned. Did he and Leigh fight?
“I came to check on Leigh. Is she here?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Did you two fight?”
Wilder balks. “No.”
I study him. Satisfied he’s telling the truth, I say, “You two can survive one night apart.” Wilder opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head.
“I mean it, go back to your room. If I find you camped out on the floor when I leave, I will not hesitate to drag you downstairs by the skin of your ear. My daughter needs rest.”
Hesitation flickers across his face. But eventually, he nods. “I’m here if she needs me.”
“She knows.”
I close the door as Leigh steps out of the bathroom and sits on her bed in a silk robe. Her hair is unwashed, hanging in limp waves. She’s distracted. I sit beside her silently, studying her eyes, which are so much like her father’s. It hurt me to look at them after his death.
“Cold feet?” I ask softly.
Leigh blinks. “What? Sorry, I was lost in thought.”
“Say the word, and we’ll run away,” I say with a smile, though I am serious.
No one ever gave me a choice when it came to my marriage.
I was raised to be Gwyn Raelyn’s wife—serious, studious, and accomplished.
Desperate to please everyone around me, I earned perfect grades, mastered multiple instruments, and did everything possible to become the queen Gwyn would need me to be.
Although I eventually grew to love Gwyn deeply, it didn’t start that way. I want Leigh to learn from my mistakes; she shouldn’t put other people’s feelings above her own. She’s a queen, not a saint.
“I’m not running away.” Leigh laughs. “I love Wilder. I’m just …” She smiles at me. It’s distant. “Going to go to bed. It was a long day.”
“I know.” I cover her hand with mine. “You can tell me. Did something happen between you two? It must’ve been serious and very public for Janus to come find me.”
Leigh groans and falls back onto her bed. “Wilder and I are good.”
I purse my lips. “Leigh, I can tell you’re not yourself.”
She scowls at the ceiling. “I just have a lot on my plate. You were a bride, you get it.”
“I was, but I wasn’t moping about the night before my wedding.”
My daughter gazes at me, her brow furrowing. “Wait, have you been crying?”
I blink. Part of me wants to cut the conversation short. To push her away, like I usually would. But I am done being sad and angry. Hiding my feelings to spare others is not what I want to teach my daughter.
“I was just thinking about your brother.”
Leigh sits up. She hesitates, then pulls me into a hug. “He should be here. They should both be here.”
I hug her back. “I’m glad you are.”
“I’ll always be,” Leigh whispers.
I hold her tighter. “I love you, my beautiful girl.”
She’s the first to pull away. “I really should get some sleep.”
“Wilder came to check on you while you were in the shower.” She glances toward the closed door. “He went to bed. I don’t want him sneaking in here. This door will stay shut after I leave. Promise?”
Leigh snorts. “Promise.”
With a final reassuring smile, I leave her room, my heart pounding. Something whispers in my ear not to go, to stay with her until she falls asleep, but Leigh isn’t a kid. She’s a queen.