59. Roman
How many times over the past four days had I checked my phone for any texts or calls from Isabel? It didn’t matter; there were none. I’d started a few texts to her like some lovesick schoolboy, desperate to get her to talk to me. But then I never sent them, because I knew that if and when—hopefully when—the nymph was ready, she’d come to me.
All I kept telling myself was that she needed time. And if enough time would send her back to me, I’d give her all she needed. After all, she never took her quilt, and that was proof enough proof that she wasn’t done with me.
On the fourth day my phone dinged, and my heart leaped against my ribs.
Isabel:Did you know that apart from humans the only land animal that cries is the elephant?
Me:So, if ever you’re lost in the wild, and thirsty, all you have to do is make an elephant cry. I’ll bet one elephant tear could fill up a cup.
Isabel:But how would you make an elephant cry? And why would you want to make an elephant cry?
Me:Good point. In fact, I’d rather die from dehydration than make an elephant cry.
Isabel:Nice save.
Me:I miss you.
I stared at the phone for what felt like an eternity, waiting for a text back until finally, finally the phone dinged again.
Isabel:I miss you too.
I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and how I’d do anything to have her at my side again. But I swallowed my eagerness. There was no propelling the nymph back into my arms with burning impulses and relentless need. I wanted to look into those emerald eyes as I was saying the words.
So I left it at that. While indulging in this warm feeling where hope wrapped around my chest like a vine twining around an old tree.
Less than half an hour later, news came that Byron was in the hospital after a vicious assault as he left a restaurant. Fuck, I’d forgotten all about throwing my brother at Van Buren’s mercy.
Steven was predictably uneasy. Even if Byron was the black sheep, he was still a Belmont. And it was Steven’s job to make sure no one touched the Belmont clan. He told me we should at least show our faces to keep up a good front.
* * *
Steven droveus to the hospital, streetlights slashing rhythmically through the windows as we went.
“The attack was well planned and executed,” he said. “Injuries just short of potentially fatal damage. It reeks of revenge and probably serves as a warning. Perhaps a husband who found out Byron was sleeping with his wife. But what if it’s a warning to you? I’m looking into it and I’ll find out who’s responsible.”
We passed cars on the road, people going about their normal everyday lives. While my life had become a minefield of disasters through no one’s fault but my own. I sighed.
“It was me. I called Porter Van Buren and told him Byron was sleeping with his wife, and sent him a photo to prove it.”
Steven cursed furiously under his breath. “Christ, Roman. Van Buren is a cruel prick. Byron could’ve been killed.”
Guilt swept through me. “How serious is it?”
“Cracked ribs, internal bleeding, and a light concussion. And his face looks like he went a round with Mike Tyson. Every blow was aimed at causing some lasting pain.”
“But nothing permanent,” I said carefully.
“He’s not going to want to show his face in public anytime soon, but he’ll heal.”
The Rover turned into the hospital lot, and Steven pulled up to a service entrance. I slipped from the car and rushed inside, my security detail discreetly in tow.
The medical director was already waiting to escort me to Byron’s room. But even as he described Byron’s injuries, nothing prepared me for the bruised wreck of a man lying in the hospital bed. Asleep and ensconced in a shadow of defeat. I could only imagine the fear permeating Byron as he uselessly tried to fight off the brutal attack.
The weight of the situation coursed through me like a runaway train, and for a moment I forgot just how infuriating Byron could be.
It wasn’t always this bad between us. There was a time when Byron and I were as close as two brothers could ever be. But that was so far back, it was difficult to remember when the rift between us began.
A pounding headache was slipping in behind my eyes.
Steven diplomatically escorted the medical director from the hospital room, leaving me alone to contemplate the effects of wreaking revenge on my own brother. Until now, cutting Byron off from excess money was the only punishment I’d doled out. But this, this was venturing into Cain-and-Abel territory, even if it wasn’t by my own hand.
I moved to the edge of the room and looked out the window, a silent nightlife playing out below. There was no avoiding my own reflection staring back at me, a man whose bubble of hope for a better future was slowly deflating. And there was no denying the lengths I’d go to in order to turn the course of things away from all this pending doom.
Byron’s voice tore me from the mindless despair raiding my thoughts. “Hey.”
It caught me completely off-guard and I spun around. “Byron. How are you feeling?”
“Like a couple of 250-pounds brutes batted me around like a pinball. I mean I don’t know if it shows. Nobody wants to give me a goddamn mirror.”
“You don’t look too bad,” I lied.
Byron tried to shift upright, grimacing in pain. “Actually I’m glad you came. Surprised, but glad. I want to talk to you.”
If I needed proof that Byron was going to be fine, this was it. He was talking, and perhaps readying himself for an argument. I headed for the door, eager to get out of there. “Now is not the time, Byron. Maybe you should rest and we can talk later.”
“Just give me a minute, please,” he said quietly, his bruised face contorting in pain.
Something about his demeanor held me back and I hovered near the door. He gauged my reaction expectantly. “Do you remember that big train set we built in the playroom, years ago?”
Once again I was unprepared. His was not the tone of a man demanding an increase to his expense account. I simply nodded, wondering what my brother had to say.
“We started building that train set the year before you left for Switzerland the first time,” he said. “And every winter and summer holiday when you came back home, we’d pick up where we left off. We’d go to the playroom early mornings and spend the days planning and building the railway. All four weeks you were home, every holiday, every year.”
I moved away from the door and closer to the bed, curious as to where this was going. “Of course I remember.”
“I don’t think you know this but those were the happiest times I remember as a kid. The times I spent with you. Then one summer holiday, I waited in the playroom for you, but you didn’t show. When I tracked you down to remind you we had new rails to plan, you told me you didn’t have time for it anymore and leave you alone. And you seemed angry. I thought you were upset with me for some reason. Emily told me later that father wanted you in his office that holiday, to start teaching you how the business worked. I didn’t understand why, you were only thirteen years old. I knew then I lost you. It wasn’t enough that he sent you to Switzerland, but then he had to take you away from me when you were here too. He took away the one thing that mattered to me most, my big brother, my best friend, and I hated him for it. And I hated you for going along with it. What I didn’t understand at the time was that you had no choice.”
This revelation hung there, like a noose in the wind. A shiver traveled down my back. I knew Byron as someone who trampled on the world and couldn’t give a damn whose soul he crushed. But I didn’t know this Byron, this man who suddenly didn’t flinch at baring his own soul. Who didn’t hesitate to put his weakness on display—a courtesy I had never shown him myself.
When I finally found my composure again, I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at him. Because I knew Byron wasn’t done with what he had to tell me.
“All these years this incredible anger I felt molded me into this pathetic malcontent, an intolerable asshole, so much so that even I couldn’t even stand myself anymore,” he said, with the air of a man who’d reached an epiphany that was about to change his life. “Do you know how tiring it is to be such a jackass all the time? It’s fucking exhausting. And the day after I had confronted Isabel, once I got outside, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized you’re the one who got the ugly short end of the stick, and that this was not the life you would have chosen for yourself. At least I had a choice, and look how I fucked that up. I can’t even begin to imagine the misery I’ve caused you. And Emily, sweet Emily, never losing hope that one day I’d extract my head from my ass. I hope you can forgive me, seriously.”
I was stunned. The thought of Byron, who’d ignored social constraints, made a mockery of ethical norms and skated accountability for pretty much his whole life, now suddenly asking forgiveness left me speechless. I was frozen with intrigue.
A wry grin puttered around his bruised lips. “I get it. You think it’s the drugs talking. It’s not. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, wondering how I was going to talk to you. Now isn’t the ideal circumstance, but here we are. Nothing like coming face to face with death to spike your adrenaline and see how you’ve messed up what could have been a decent life… You think it’s too late to change?
I leaned forward. “It’s never too late to change. But you should have come to me, Byron. Why didn’t you tell me all these years ago. I could have explained why I became so miserable and distant. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with being dragged into this world where I had no say in what I wanted to do with my life.” I almost choked at the bitter taste of those words. “A small part of me resented the fact that you had the easy way out. But it never made me care for you any less.”
Byron closed his eyes, “And now look at this mess, not to mention all the years I’ve wasted. I hope I didn’t fuck things up for you and Isabel.”
I leaned back in the chair, in disbelief that I was about to expose my feelings to Byron of all people. “I shouldn’t have kept it from her for so long. That’s on me. Now I just have to wait and see. She just needs time.”
“Emily told me the old man woke up. Is he going to be okay?”
I shrugged. “You know him. He’s indestructible. He’s got a long rehabilitation ahead of him, but he’ll get there.”
“Good, I owe him a huge apology… And you know worst of all, I’ve pissed off so many people I have no idea who did this to me. I kept thinking I was going to die and that I’d never be able to tell my family how sorry I was.”
The moment lingered as I decided whether to admit that I was the one responsible. Who knew if that would breathe new life into the old vengeful Byron again. Though this could be the test to see how sincere he really was.
“It was me,” I said. “I called Porter Van Buren.”
There was a long silence before a muffled chuckle emerged from the bed. “I should’ve guessed. You poke a stick at a tiger in a cage, soon enough he’s going to get pissed off and break through the bars. It wasn’t like you didn’t warned me that pushing you too far was a bad idea. It’s a wonder it took you so long.”
“I really didn’t mean for you to end up here, like this,” I said. “I was beside myself, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Byron shook his head, dismissing my regret. “Listen, it’s nothing compared to the damage I’ve done. But you have my word I’ll make up for it if you give me the chance.”
An ache made its way into my chest, constricting my throat. It took effort to get a hold of myself before I spoke again. “Why don’t you come back home? We could probably dig up the train set and build it again. Imagine the things we could add to it now.”
“You mean move back as in permanently?” he asked, hope lining his voice.
I nodded. “It’s your home too. Emily would love to have the new Byron home… So would I.”
“I’d like that. And hey, if you feel up to it, you can teach me about the business. Let’s not have my Harvard business finance degree go to waste.”
For all his faults, Byron was extremely smart. For the amount of partying he did in college, no one expected him to graduate let alone graduate magna cum laude. But he did, effortlessly. It had always been infuriating to me that he let a brain like that go to waste.
This had to be the first time since Isabel had left that I felt a splinter of hope that anything in my life might turn out fine. “Yes, I think we should put you to work. I need all the help I can get at this point. And just so you know, there is a CEO spot opening in a few months.”
“Can’t we start with something simpler? Like say, managing one of the hotels? CEO is probably a bit out of my league.”
I smiled. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have graduated magna cum laude, Byron. Your bad.”
“Only you to use that against me,” he said, cracking a smile. “Not to mention I’ll have to do a crash course in contract law before I come within sniffing distance of being CEO.”
“I know someone who’s very smart, perhaps a little too smart for her own good, who specializes in contract law. I’ll get her to help you.”
“Oh God, you’re going to put me at the mercy of a witchy disciplinarian, aren’t you?
I smiled. “I wouldn’t necessarily pin witchy or disciplinarian on her, but don’t expect her to go easy on you, because she won’t.”
A blink of happiness spread across Byron’s swollen features, and he tried to smile. Instead a sharp hiss erupted between his teeth. “Fuck this hurts. I mean, like everywhere. And they won’t give me more for the pain. You’d think for the money we’re throwing at them, I’d have my choice of mind-numbing drugs.”
I texted Steven. “Well, that’s bullshit. Hang on, I’m getting Steven on their case.
Not a minute later a stern nurse with forearms like a wrestler marched in with a silver tray. “I have oxycodone, hydrocodone, codeine and morphine. Do you have a preference?”
Byron looked a little lost. I intercepted. “Morphine is fine. Thank you.”
Efficiency was the nurse’s strong point, because ten seconds later the syringe was filled and the morphine injected into Byron’s arm. She left as quickly as she’d appeared.
Byron’s eyes dimmed and a dopey grin tugged at the corners of his bruised mouth. “This feels better… So, maybe we could try the brother thing again. What do you say.”
I nodded. “I’d like that. Very much.”
Only when Byron fell asleep did I leave, a lightness in my step as I strode down the gleaming hospital hallways. The one thing that would make tonight more perfect was to speak to Isabel. I texted her.
Me:Can I call you tonight?
I didn’t expect her to respond any time soon, and was about to put the phone back in my pocket when there was a ding. I nearly dropped the phone in my eagerness to read the text. And there it was, my salvation in a few words:
Isabel:You don’t need to. I’m coming home.