18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Hayden
By the time Hayden left the office, the ache behind his eyes had settled into a steady pulse.
The worst of the backlog was gone. The new lines of authority were almost in place.
One more round of calls, a few signatures, and he could return to Bakersfield without leaving half the company waiting for him to come back.
He should’ve gone to his apartment, ordered dinner, and slept. Instead, he drove to his parents’ house.
His mother had asked him to come. Her voice had been careful, almost formal, when she said they couldn’t leave matters as they were.
Hayden agreed with that much. He didn’t want to leave New York with another argument merely paused behind him.
He wanted his parents to understand that Caroline wasn’t a problem they could solve, an enemy they could wear down, or an embarrassing subject they could dress up as concern.
He’d promised himself he would stay civil long enough to make some progress.
That promise lasted until he walked into the drawing room and saw Dasha in front of the fireplace.
She wore a pale dress and held a glass of wine in one hand.
The smooth, red line of her bob hadn’t shifted.
She looked as if she’d spent the past week preparing to be admired rather than blocked.
“Hayden,” she said. “There you are.”
He stopped inside the doorway. “Dasha.”
Her smile tightened. She had expected more. She always expected more.
His mother came forward and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”
“You didn’t say she’d be here,” he said.
His mother lowered her voice. “I thought it would be better if everyone spoke calmly.”
“Everyone,” Hayden repeated.
“Oh, don’t start before I’ve finished my wine,” Paulie said from a chair near the windows. “I was promised food before the family destruction.”
The line should’ve made Hayden smile. It would’ve, once. Tonight, Paulie’s careless tone only reminded him how often a joke had let all of them step around something ugly.
His father entered from the hall. “We’re not here for destruction. We’re having dinner.”
Hayden looked at Dasha again. She lifted her glass to him as if they shared some private understanding.
“Fine,” he said. “Let’s have dinner.”
The dining room hadn’t changed since Caroline had sat beside him there.
The long, polished table, the inherited paintings, the heavy silver – all of it had once been so familiar that he barely noticed it.
Now he remembered Caroline going still when his mother corrected her choice of fork.
He remembered his father reducing her to the cocktails she could make.
He remembered Dasha praising her lack of self-consciousness while Caroline tried not to show that she understood the insult.
And he remembered smiling.
He’d thought the remarks harmless because none of them could hurt him. He’d decided that meant they couldn’t truly hurt her either.
The shame of it sat in his stomach before he took the first bite.
His mother began with work. She asked whether the new arrangement was settled, and Hayden explained that it was close.
His father asked two sharp questions about the senior executive handling matters in New York.
Hayden answered them. The exchange stayed cool and practical, which was likely his mother’s plan.
Then his mother set down her glass.
“And Caroline?” she asked. “How is her ankle?”
“Better. She can walk without help now, but it still aches if she stands too long.”
“Good,” she said. “And her mother is well?”
Hayden met her gaze. “Yes.”
“It must be difficult for all of them in that apartment,” his father said. “Five adults under one roof, with a baby coming. That sort of unstable family situation tends to create its own problems.”
Hayden put down his fork. He had been in the apartment.
He knew the worn carpet, the crowded table, the mugs fighting for space on the counter.
He also knew the clean sheets Caroline’s mother had given her, the crib Jemma had bought, and the way both women had refused homes they needed because the price might be Caroline’s peace.
“The apartment is crowded,” he said. “Her family isn’t unstable.”
His father raised an eyebrow. “I heard that her aunt’s husband steals from them and drinks away whatever money he finds.”
“Hank is unreliable. That doesn’t make Caroline or the women caring for her unstable.” Hayden kept his voice even.
“I only meant that she hasn’t had much example of a proper home,” his mother said. “Her own father left when she was a baby. One can’t pretend that has no effect.”
There it was. Sympathy shaped like a knife.
Hayden saw Caroline at the diner, telling him that she’d spent months trying to work out what she’d done wrong. He’d brought her into rooms like this and asked her not to bleed where anyone could see.
“Her father leaving wasn’t Caroline’s choice,” he said. “It wasn’t her mother’s failure either. Her mother stayed. She worked. She raised a brilliant daughter. If we’re discussing failures inside a home, we have plenty of our own.”
His mother’s mouth tightened. His father leaned back.
Across the table, Dasha gave a small sigh. “No one is attacking the poor woman.”
“Then stop talking about her as if her life is evidence against her,” Hayden said.
“Hayden,” his mother murmured.
He looked toward Paulie, expecting some comment about forks, or evidence, or the poor fate of the wine. His brother said nothing. He sat with his lips pressed together and his hand around the stem of his glass.
Dasha turned to his mother. “I only think backgrounds matter. Some people never have an opportunity to learn what a lasting marriage should look like.”
Hayden almost laughed. Dasha had spent ten years ending their relationship whenever she wanted to be chased and returning whenever she needed to be wanted. She was the last person at the table who should’ve offered lessons about lasting love.
“Caroline knows what commitment looks like,” he said. “She’s not the one who broke our marriage.”
His father’s gaze sharpened. “No one made her leave.”
“I told her I would’ve divorced her if she weren’t pregnant. I accused her of planning our daughter so I couldn’t get away from her. She left because I made staying unbearable.”
“You were angry,” his father said.
“I’m her husband, and I shouldn’t have behaved that way.”
The silence that followed was brief, but it felt clean. No excuse covered what he’d done.
Dasha broke it. “You are being very severe with yourself over one quarrel.”
Hayden looked at her. “It wasn’t one quarrel.”
“Then perhaps the separation is best for both of you.” She lifted one shoulder. “Caroline can live where she’s comfortable, and you can make sensible arrangements for the child.”
“Her child,” Hayden said.
“Yours as well.” Dasha smiled as though she were calming him. “I do love children. I’ve always thought I’d be good with them. The growing one inside my own body part is less appealing. Pregnancy sounds rather gory, doesn’t it? I would certainly consider a surrogate.”
Paulie’s glass touched the table with a hard click.
Dasha glanced at him, then back at Hayden. “In practical terms, that is almost what has happened here. Caroline carries the baby. When the divorce is complete, the child stays with the parent who can provide the better life.”
For one sharp second, Hayden heard nothing beyond the rush of blood in his ears.
Caroline reduced to a body. Their daughter reduced to a prize. His father’s suggestion about lawyers and custody had returned in Dasha’s cool voice, polished until it sounded like a reasonable dinner plan.
Hayden rested both hands on the table. When he spoke, his voice was calm.
“That right there is why I never built a life with you.”
Dasha blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Ten years. We broke up, returned to each other, fought, and did it all again. I kept confusing familiarity with something valuable.” He held her gaze.
“But I never chose a permanent future with you because you’re narcissistic, manipulative, and dishonest. You turn every room into a test of how much attention you’ll receive.
You hurt people, then call them dramatic when they object. ”
Color rose from Dasha’s throat to her face. “You’re speaking to me this way because that girl has made you feel guilty.”
“Caroline didn’t make me anything. And she isn’t ‘that girl.’ She’s my wife. I will never marry you. You will never take her place. You will have no place in my daughter’s life.”
“I didn’t ask to marry you.”
“You just assigned yourself Caroline’s child.”
His mother drew a breath. “Perhaps we should all calm down.”
“No.” Hayden kept his eyes on Dasha. “I have a question, and I want an answer.”
Dasha reached for her wine. Her fingers weren’t quite steady.
“Did you actually hear Caroline talking to her mother that night?”
“We’ve discussed this,” she said.
“You told me you heard her say I’d give her anything after the baby came. You said they laughed about how easy I was to persuade. You said Caroline told her mother I liked rescuing her, and her mother called me a fool. Did you really hear those words?”
Dasha’s green eyes moved toward his mother. “The exact words are hardly the point.”
“They were the entire point when you repeated them to me.”
“I saw the situation for what it was.”
“Did you hear her?”
“I knew what she was doing.”
“Did you hear a single word of that conversation?”
Dasha’s face had gone bright red. “Not every word.”
“Any of them?”
She looked down at her plate. “No.”
The answer entered him like cold water.
He’d known Caroline hadn’t made that call. He believed her now. He’d already named Dasha’s story a lie to his father. Still, some part of him had imagined Dasha twisting something real. A phrase, a laugh, a sight she’d misunderstood. There had been nothing.
“You didn’t overhear her,” Hayden said.
Dasha sat straighter. “I noticed she’d left the table. I understood the sort of conversation she would have with her mother. I know women like that.”