“I’ll be going back to Avebury Court Manor in a few to give Jane and Aisling a rundown of everything we discussed. All facts. You will not deny what happened. You will own up to tampering with our lives. To poisoning me. To dragging out those awful pictures.”
It seemed straightforward enough.
“You will also hand me back my cufflinks. My family heirloom.”
I gave him a curt nod. “That it?”
“No. One more thing. If you hurt her …” He didn’t finish the sentence, shaking his head to rid himself of whatever horrid image played in his mind.
“I will not hurt your daughter.”
“I’m already regretting this bargain.”
I turned around and left him there.
Now there was only one slight matter.
The matter of making Aisling not hate me with a burning passion of a fucking million suns.
“Do you think he is okay? Should we call the police?” My mother tore her croissant into miniscule pieces on her flowery plate, demolishing the poor pastry. “Does my hair look okay?”
I sat across the table from her, staring into my oatmeal like it had wronged me in some profound way. I didn’t want Athair to deal with Sam by himself, but he had insisted, and considering the fact he was the main victim of Sam’s vicious plan—a plan that I followed closely without telling anyone from my family—I tended to agree with him.
Besides, there was nothing I could possibly say to Sam that I hadn’t already.
I confessed my love to him, gave him my body, offered him my soul, sought him out over and over again.
I needed to gather whatever was left of my pride and move on with my life.
“Da will be fine,” I said unconvincingly, taking a sip of my pulpy, freshly-squeezed orange juice. “And your hair looks great.”
“What if he kills him?” Mother slapped a hand to her chest. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all you did for us, uncovering all this, Aisling, but maybe this should’ve been handled by the police.”
“Samuel Brennan would have slaughtered Da if he brought police officers into his club, and you and I both know it.”
Mother’s fingers strummed over her Swarovski necklace, letting out something between a wail and a moan. The door behind my back swung open. I didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. My father stalked inside, his steps heavy and wobbly. It was the first time he’d seen my mother in weeks.
After my idea to set Barbara as a trap for Sam and put our plan into motion, I had gotten my parents to talk a little on the phone but couldn’t get them to meet in person. They were both still wary of one another, even when I clearly established the only dirty player in this whole situation was Sam.
“Hello, Jane.” Da stopped cold to take in my mother.
They’d both lost so much weight and vitality over the last weeks, it was almost like looking at their ghosts.
It hit me like a brick just then. How love was like Lady Masquerade. It could take on many faces. My parents cheated on each other. They lied, backstabbed one another, and failed to communicate with each other. Still, they couldn’t bear to be apart.
They loved each other in their own backward way, and maybe love wasn’t a beautiful thing, after all. Most things in life weren’t.
Mother stood up. They both stared at each other, neither of them wanting to say anything to ruin this precious, fragile moment.
“You look well,” Da said finally.
Mother pressed her palm against her cheek, actually blushing.
“Liar. I look awful. So do you.”
“I feel awful, too. You were at the hospital.”
“I was.”
“I missed you,” he said.
She motioned to the dining table laden with pastries, oatmeal, and fresh fruit.
“Join us for breakfast?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He slipped into his usual seat, piling pastries onto a plate.
I didn’t ask him how it went with Sam. His appetite alone told me everything I needed to know. My worst fears and suspicions about my personal monster had turned out to be true.
He almost ruined my family. Almost, because I wouldn’t let him.
But he’d intended to do that nonetheless.
I took another sip of my orange juice, studying Da.
Finally, he whipped his head to look at me.
“You were right, Aisling.” He put a butter knife streaked with marmalade on the side of his plate. “It was him. The cufflinks. The poisoning. The pictures. Barbara, obviously.”
My heart hurt so much it felt like he ripped it straight out of my chest, breaking a few ribs in the process.
Why, Sam, why?
“Why?” Mother asked tentatively, echoing my thoughts. Da turned to look at her.
“I’ll tell you in a little bit, my sweet, when Aisling leaves for work. I’ll give you the truth. Nothing but the truth. I swear. But first, I want to tell you something.” Da turned back to me.