“Nothing we can’t push aside for one night.” Micah extends his hand, and my father shakes it. From where I’m standing it looks more like an arm wrestle than a greeting, the tendons in my husband’s wrist jutting out in sharp relief.
I roll my eyes, something that was a private gesture, but with uncanny timing, Greta arrives to catch it at its height. Even jerking my gaze to the side the moment she appears can’t fool her.
“Congratulations,” I say to forestall any commentary. “When’s the wedding?”
Greta repeats my secret gesture back to me as she takes my father’s arm. “Not until his last marriage is dissolved. I don’t understand why it only takes three days to get a marriage licence but two years to get a divorce.”
“Well, at least you get a long engagement.” I definitely don’t need a reminder of how long licences take. There should be a compulsory month-long standdown, even if it only applies to members of the syndicate.
“It’s not even an engagement,” Greta continues. “You can’t get engaged while you’re still married to another woman. Even when the other woman runs off with a literal child.”
It’s hard to tell from her expression whether she’s genuinely upset at Gabriel’s age or just teasing. I can’t imagine someone being worried by the four-year age-gap, especially since he’s long-since turned eighteen, but she’s impossible to read. Her features don’t move, certainly not enough to chart her moods. I grip Micah’s arm a little tighter but instead of interpreting for me, he just pats my hand.
That must mean she’s okay, right? He wouldn’t let me stand in the line of fire if she were about to explode.
“If you ask Dad nicely, perhaps he’ll get rid of this wife the same way he got rid of the old one,” I tease.
There’s a long silence. Long enough to make me rethink my delivery. It was meant as a joke, an off-colour in-joke, but as the pause lengthens, I see how people could mistake it for being a rather callous dig at the man who—when push came to shove—had only been trying to protect his daughter.
Then Greta’s eyes twinkle. “You believe you’re the first person to think that? Take it from me, I’ve been pushing for that exact outcome since the first night we went out on a proper date.”
Micah puts his hand on my lower back, then slowly, slowly slithers farther around to cup my hip. The upcoming few hours of mandatory party attendance have never seemed like such a heavy burden.
“If you ever get the inclination to take things in that direction,” he mutters, “please let me know and I’ll happily take out the other half of that equation.”
“Like hell you will.” Dad snorts in contempt. “It’s your stepmother that put the kibosh on the whole thing. Got Johnson to visit me in person and spell out exactly what repercussions such a move would have. Like I need to be lectured by some young upstart.”
Micah barks out a laugh. “He’s in his late thirties.”
“Exactly. The boy should learn his place.”
“And would you have listened any better if it came from Thaddius?”
I tune out their voices, wondering if the day will ever come where my father and I will sit down and discuss what happened when I was a child. Not just the murder, or that I bore witness to it, but the years preceding when surely anyone who pays as much attention to his assets as my dad must have known something was wrong.
Probably not. An off-colour joke at a party might be the best either of us can hope for. I put my hand on top of Micah’s. At least now I have a man who’s willing to discuss things with me.
The next generation will be luckier than we were and isn’t that how progress is made?
Slowly and annoyingly.
“Crimson! Finally!”
I turn to see Marigold leaping down the stairs towards me and squeeze Micah’s arm before heading inside to meet her halfway. She grips me in such a tight hug that when I draw away, I’m a size smaller. “What d’you mean, finally? The party only started a few minutes ago. We’re disgustingly early.”
“Ugh.” Marigold drops her head back and flaps her arms. “I’ve been stuck here for hours already. I keep telling Mum I don’t need to know all the finer details of running the business because I don’t have the slightest interest in taking over a restaurant, but she doesn’t pay attention.”
I hook my arm through hers and together we mount the rest of the stairs and pop our heads inside the main room. “Looks fantastic as usual.”
“With the money your dad always lavishes on these things, that’s no surprise. I don’t know why he goes to such expense. It’s not as though he ever enjoys himself.”
“Well, maybe tonight will be different. After all, he’s got his new fiancée by his side.”
“Yeah. Incest alert.”
I punch her in the upper arm, laughing as I say, “Get your mind out of the gutter.” Like I hadn’t expressed exactly the same thought just a few minutes ago.
“Ooh.” Her attention is diverted as a tall man with blond good looks goes strolling past with an expression like thunder. “I don’t recall seeing him around before.”
