Chapter 46 Fitz
FITZ
“Uh-oh. I take it the proposal didn’t go well?”
“It wasn’t proposal day.” I glower.
“Probably for the best,” Whitman jokes when I angrily pull out the chair next to him and sit in it.
“Yeah, did you see that terrible selection of rings?” McCarthy ribs me.
“Nothing is wrong with the rings that I picked!” I bellow at my brothers.
“Holy shit, man,” Hawthorne says after a second.
The waitstaff coming in with the appetizers pause, apprehensive in the doorway.
“Can we have this food and drink to go?” Salinger asks the servers.
“What? No. I can’t reheat the crab pasta!” Whitman complains.
“Then eat it room temperature.”
“You need to get him under control,” Hawthorne complains to Crawford, who’s buttering his bread.
He stuffs a piece in his mouth. “Okay, you sound crazy. Let’s go.” Crawford stands up, still chewing.
“Fuck you.” I sit down.
“He and his stalking victim are having a rough patch in their relationship.” Faulkner licks an oyster shell.
“You little—”
“You need to calm down,” Salinger warns.
“Use your words,” Faulkner mimics.
I pick up a steak knife.
“Why’d she dump you? What did you say?” Hawthorne looks a little nervous. “I bet it was something unhinged.”
“She can’t break up with me. I have twenty million dollars’ worth of rings for her. And I bought her sister a house.”
“Wait,” Crawford says. “You bought her sister a house? The one you had dinner with?”
“Yeah. Next time, I’m not doing that in a public dining room.”
“But you didn’t buy Winnie the house?” Crawford says slowly.
“She already has a house,” I remind him impatiently. “I bought this house for Kathy to get her parents out of Winnie’s house so that I can stay there whenever I want and she won’t be stressed. I did a nice thing.”
“Dude.”
“Is he usually this dumb?”
“Do you know how many Furbys the man owns?”
“This is what her sister said she wanted,” I complain.
“Isn’t this the sister that got strung along by her shitty hockey-player boyfriend?” McCarthy asks. “Is she really the voice of logic and reason in this situation?”
“The whole thing is bullshit. Winnie’s a businesswoman. She logical, or at least, she’s supposed to be,” I complain. “She didn’t even hear me out.”
“Maybe this is just a ruse to cover the real reason,” Hawthorne muses.
“Exactly!” I slam the knife on the table, sending several goblets toppling and the silverware crashing. “Exactly. She’s hiding something from me. She’s lying about something.”
“Or maybe she caught wise that”—my brother snickers—“you have a shopping addiction.”
“Probably a sex addiction.”
“He’s def getting a restraining order.”
“It’s Knox,” I decide abruptly. “She’s still in love with him. She has to be. She says she isn’t, but she is. And he’s still obsessed with her.”
“The stalker calling the stalker obsessed.” Faulkner snickers.
“You better fucking do something about him,” I warn Salinger, standing up abruptly.
My older brother rises from his seat. Salinger’s voice drops. “You need to take him back to NYC, Crawford.”
“I’m not fucking crazy. This is a logical response to someone trying to steal my stuff.” I know I’m too loud.
My brothers look at me in concern.
“She’s probably over there right now.”
“We can’t just roll over there,” Faulkner says uncertainly.
“That’s exactly what we need to do. We need to go get her and destroy him.” I slam my fist on the table. “She doesn’t get to love anyone except me.”
My brothers seem worried.
Crawford is still. He’s got a knife in his hand. “Just trade Knox to a different team,” my brother says carefully. “That’s what I’d do.”
“Oh, so did you know about this?” I round on McCarthy.
“What the fuck? You’re crazy. He’s crazy!” McCarthy complains.
My brothers are acting like they did when our father would fly into one of his paranoid delusions.
“I’m not crazy!” I howl.
The window cracks as I slam McCarthy against it. Hawthorne yanks him back, and they hold their breath, waiting for the window to shatter.
“Get him out of here!” Salinger yells. “He’s going to kill someone.”
“You need to lock him up,” Whitman demands.
“He needs a twenty-four-hour cool-off period.”
I struggle against Salinger. “I’m going to make her love me.”
“Whoa.”
“You don’t understand!” I scream as Crawford and Salinger hold me down on the ground. “She belongs to me!”
Faulkner, for once in his life, looks scared of me.
I should feel bad, but I can’t. I’ve completely lost the leash on my temper.
I fight them off, getting Salinger in the stomach. Crawford grunts when I headbutt him. I throw him into the table. Plates fall, breaking on the floor.
I pick up a shard, have it in my hand.
“She’s my stuff. She doesn’t get to just leave me.” I walk backward away from them. “She’s mine. I decide when I’m done with her. And if I can’t have her, no one else can.”