I got the strongest conviction that was why Elliott had come to me. He was sending me a message. The closeness of him had made my heart almost burst. I wasn’t afraid. I was shocked, my head and heart at war for the truth of the matter. The space between finally settled onit happened.
“Ah,” he almost growled. “She doesn’t have to fret over her old man. I’m fine. Work has me tense.” He rolled his shoulders. Whether it was done unconsciously or not, I wasn’t certain, but it was the roll of a man who felt some heat coming his way.
“I see.” I took one last inhale, retrohaling it again, leaving the essence of it to sit in the back of my nose. Then I snuffed it out on the marble receptacle he had set out for us to use.
We sat in silence for a little while. He was holding out on me. It could’ve been work, but something told me it had nothing to do with business—it was something personal.
Hell. I hoped he hadn’t gotten one of his mistresses pregnant. What made me think of that? I had no fucking clue. Probablythe bunny. Who knew when he’d run across a real winner? The man was a billionaire, and it was no secret that he was a habitual adulterer, though it was kept hush-hush in the family.
Scarlett rarely talked about it, and when she did, her skin crawled to the point that I couldn’t touch her afterward.
“You feeling good enough to make the party tonight, or should we cancel and have something here?” I said to change the subject. If he had something to say, he wasn’t saying it. At least it was out there, though, and it would be with him to think on.
“The day Everett Poésy doesn’t make it to a celebration for one of his children is the day I’ll be six feet under.” His laughter boomed out, but it almost seemed contrived.
“You’ll be there then,” I said. I downed the rest of the snifter, keeping the fire in the pit of my stomach stoked.
I stood and he stood. I held out my hand, thanked him for the cigar and brandy, and he pulled me in.
“If I had something to say, son,” he said into my ear, “you’d be the relief on my deathbed.”
His grip on my hand grew firmer, and I took a step back to meet his eyes—man to man.
“You are my son,” he said. “In all the ways that count.”
I left him after those parting lines. Gabriel’s voice met me on the short trip to our place next door. His windows were open, allowing in the low breeze and releasing his music to the street. It didn’t seem out of place here, not when musicians claimed every corner.
I decided not to tell Scarlett what had happened between her father and me. Not until after her birthday.
* * *
I sent everyone ahead, waiting for Scarlett to come out of the bedroom. I hadn’t seen her since we arrived home from the walk to the French Quarter.
The space between us made me anxious.
I paced the front room, aware that we were going to be late, and touched all of the little fleur-de-lis decorations lining the mantle over the fireplace. Fucking antsy.
Come to me, woman, I thought. All good things take time, but she didn’t need time; she was perfect as is.
Footsteps sounded on the wood, just whispers,tap, tap, tap. She was so light on her feet that sometimes, I considered the insane notion that she was made of air, the solid feel of her nothing but a phantom trick of the mind.
All of the lights had been turned down low in the house, and she appeared from the darkness in a slow emergence of crimson fabric.
She didn’t come too close, but close enough that I could smell her perfume, see the glow of her soft skin and the curl in her hair.
“Hello,” she whispered. She wasn’t wearing the cross around her neck, so she fiddled with her wedding rings.
I had to absorb the shock of her appearance before I could speak.
“Surprise!” She lifted her hands.
Lou had cut her hair. It had hung well below her breasts before lunch; now it barely touched her shoulders, the curls massive and wild. Long hair gave her a touch of innocence, but with short hair, her eyes became fiercer, more feline, and in this moment, she radiated sensuality to a fucking insane degree.
She averted her eyes, spinning the matching band to the ballerina ring around her finger. “Do you like it?”
I used my finger to trace the deep V neckline of the dress, to get her to look at me. The breath that came from my mouth came out ashooo, a noise that stemmed from the loss of air. I tapped a hand against my chest.
The worlds flowed out in Italian. “You are such a lady, my wife. A woman. You are more beautiful now than you were back then. You used to stop my heart. Now, I die a little each time I see you.”
