27. Cassian
Cassian
My jaw tightens further the closer I get to my dad’s house.
I still haven’t told him about finding my mother and her new family, but it hangs in the air between us.
I’ve been coming over every day for lunch, partly because I feel bad for the guy, but mostly because it forces me to stay away from Vivienne.
I still can’t believe she showed up at the fight a few nights ago. What the hell was she thinking? I’ve competed a handful of times since being back at Belgrave, and it never once entered my head that Viv would attempt to follow me.
I’ll never forget how it felt when I looked up and saw her standing outside the ring.
Her green eyes were luminescent in the light, her dark hair flowing luxuriously down her back.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating, but then the crowd jostled her, and I realized they’d eat her alive if I didn’t do something.
Thank god I saw her, because I can’t handle thinking about the alternative.
Wiping my boots on the mat, I open the door to my dad’s kitchen. He’s standing at the stove, one crutch under his arm. He glances up as I enter, then stirs the simmering pot with a wooden spoon.
“You’re getting better at that,” I say, heading to the sink to wash my hands.
“Did you really think I’d sit on my ass all day for six weeks?”
“Not a chance.” I rinse and dry off with a faded floral towel that my grandmum probably bought in the eighties. “What’s for lunch?”
“Rice and beans.”
I don’t know why I expected anything else. I grab a few plates from the cupboard and set them on the table, then pop open two beers from the fridge and take a long drag from mine.
“How’s the ivy coming along?” Dad asks as he hobbles to the table on his crutches.
Lifting the pan from the stove with potholders, I carry it over for him. “I’m nearly done. Would’ve been done a lot sooner if you hadn’t forced me to play wedding planner, too.”
He fills both our plates with rice while I grab the beans. “Don’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed spending time with her.”
I stop scooting my chair in and stare at him. “She’s getting married, Dad. When are you going to get that?”
“Oh, I’ve got it.” He douses his food with hot sauce, then shoves a large bite into his mouth. “But there’s still time to change her mind. Plenty of engagements are broken off.”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” I mutter, dishing out beans.
He raises his shaggy brows. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You cannot seriously believe that Vivienne will break off her engagement to be with me.”
“Why not? Crazier things have happened.”
“This is insane.” I shake my head and load my fork, despite the fact that I’ve lost my appetite. “We would be ostracized.”
“Who?”
“Me and Viv,” I snap. “Who else?”
He waves his hand dismissively, as if being cut off from your family and friends is no big deal. “Don’t be dramatic. This isn’t the eighteenth century.”
An abrupt laugh bursts from my chest. “Have you met the Wilsons? Do you really think they’re going to let their daughter run off with the gardener, then invite them both for Christmas dinner as if everything’s fine?”
My dad sets down his silverware and looks at me. “I don’t know what they’ll do, but if you make decisions based on how you think others will respond, you’re allowing them to control you.”
“They do control us,” I say. You’d have to be blind not to see that.
“No, they don’t. And until you get rid of that chip on your shoulder, you’re going to keep seeing it that way.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “Even if you’re right, it’ll be a cold day in hell before Viv breaks off her engagement, so give up your stupid plan already.”
“She can’t be that in love with the bloke. He hasn’t even come to visit her.”
Which is one of the only things that’s been keeping me going lately, but I’m not going to tell Dad that. Ever since Viv threatened to change things between her and Landon, I’ve been holding my breath waiting for the day he shows up here. So far it hasn’t happened, but that doesn’t mean it won’t.
“Regardless, she’s going to do whatever Mummy and Daddy want her to,” I say.
“You’re selling her short.” My father keeps his eyes on me as he takes a sip of his ale.
“And you’re being eternally optimistic. It’s annoying.” I drain my own bottle and grab another from the fridge.
“She’s worth it, Cass. You know it as well as I do.”
Of course I know it. I just have too much pride to handle the eventual rejection. Even if she wanted to be with me now, a day would come when she woke up and decided she could do better. “And when she eventually leaves me?”
“What makes you think she will?”
I scoot my plate away and rest my folded arms on the table. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that Mum traded us in for a better model?”
A mask slides over Dad’s face as my words register. I feel a flicker of remorse, but we’ve been skirting this topic for years. I hate that it causes him pain, but I need to get it off my chest.
“That’s not relevant to this conversation,” he says quietly.
“Of course it is. My own mother wouldn’t stick around. What makes you think a girl like Vivienne will?”
Lines appear on his face, and he drops his eyes to his plate. He hasn’t taken a bite in several minutes. Apparently, we’ve both lost our appetites. “Your mother left me, not you.”
“That’s a bullshit line, and you know it. If she had wanted me, she would’ve stayed or taken me with her.”
My dad looks like he’s aged ten years in the space of sixty seconds. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”
I press my beer to my lips. “Good thing I’ve got time.”
A sigh heaves from his chest as he scratches at the label on his bottle. “Your mother was young when we got married, only eighteen. I often wondered if she would have agreed to marry me if she hadn’t been pregnant with you and scared out of her mind.
“Regardless of her motivations, I loved her like crazy. She was beautiful, vibrant, so full of life. Sometimes I’d get home, and she’d be dancing in the kitchen while dinner burnt to a crisp on the stove. She didn’t even notice.” He runs a callused hand over his flannel shirt.
“Slowly, the light ebbed away. She became unhappy here,” he continues.
“The country didn’t offer her the things she craved: money, lights, attention.
So I encouraged her to join some clubs in town, anything to get her out of the house.
You were too young to go to work with me, so she’d leave you with a sitter while she went to a book club or sewing circle. ”
Frowning at my beer, I shift in my chair. He’s never told me any of this before. Every time I’ve asked, he’s shut me down and told me he can’t talk about it.
“Eventually, she joined a grassroots campaign. A local man was running for MP, and she wanted to get involved. She would come home, her face aglow as she told me about everything they were doing, the difference they were going to make. It was the first time I’d seen her smile like that in the two years we’d been married.
“She started spending more and more time working on the campaign. After work, I’d drive into town to pick you up from the babysitter’s.
Sometimes your mum wouldn’t come home until nearly midnight, but I didn’t think anything of it.
I was just thrilled to see her so happy.
” His voice breaks, and he pinches the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.
“Hey,” I say, reaching for his arm. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” I already know where this is going, and I feel sick to my stomach.
He shakes his head to gather his composure.
“No, you deserve to hear the truth.” After taking a deep breath, he continues.
“I should’ve seen the signs, but I was a fool.
A stupid, bloody fool who should’ve known he wasn’t the one making her happy.
She finally told me the truth when she was three months pregnant. ”
Silence fills the room. Even though I had an inkling, hearing it confirmed feels a little like getting struck with a thunderbolt. “She got pregnant while you two were still married?”
My dad nods. I can’t imagine a worse feeling than finding out the woman you love is having another man’s child.
“How did you know the baby wasn’t yours?” I ask.
His eyes cut to me. “We knew.”
“What happened then?” I imagine her begging for forgiveness while he threatened to throw her out, them arguing in the kitchen while I cowered in my bedroom, maybe him begging her to stay.
When he shrugs, his shoulders look like they’re carrying an additional twenty pounds each. “She left.”
“What do you mean, she left? Didn’t you try to get her to stay?”
“There was no point, Cassian. She loved him. They were having a baby together and wanted to get married. He had won the campaign by then, and they were moving to the city. She was finally getting the life she wanted.”
“And what about you?” I say, an edge to my voice. “What did you want?”
He scratches at something on the table with his thumbnail. “I wanted her to be happy.” His eyes lift and find mine. “And you. I wanted my son.”
For the first time in my life, I understand my father in ways I never have before. I know all too well what it’s like to sell your soul to make the woman you love happy. “And Mum was more than happy to let you raise me?”
He shifts in his seat, his eyes darting away from me. “Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I told your mother I wanted you to live with me, and in exchange, I wouldn’t tell anyone about the affair.”
“She agreed to that?” What kind of mother agrees to give up her child in exchange for keeping her new husband’s reputation spotless?
“Cass, you have to understand. She was young and immature. Someone was offering her the life of her dreams. Anyone in her shoes would’ve taken it.”
I give him an incredulous look. “You mean someone was offering her a do-over, and she grabbed it with both hands.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face does.
“New husband, new house, new kid. Why bother with the old when there’s an upgrade available?” I shake my head in disgust.
“Have you ever considered that you’re better off because of her choice? If she had taken you with her, you would’ve grown up in the city. No Belgrave, no Bash or Viv. I may not have done a perfect job as a single parent, but I think I did a pretty damn good one.”
I let his words sink in. He’s right, of course. Not to mention, if I’d gone to the city with my mother, my dad would’ve been left with nothing.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice gruff. “You have.”