“So what you’re telling me is that neither of us wants to be in the con game anymore.” He shakes his head again, a bemused smile on his face.
“It appears so.”
There’s just one problem and his name is Grayson Beaumont. My father.
“Do you think you could talk to your father? Ask him if he could let us go? Maybe we could sign a contract and have it be a specified amount of time?” I’m surprised he didn’t. All his minions have contracts. Guess this was a different situation, seeing as how he has the blackmail material and whatever the thing is that Sylas wants. I can’t ask Dad what it is, because I’m not supposed to be talking to Sylas.
“I wish I could, but I said I’d stay away from you.” And I can’t tell him I want to get out because it would break his heart. I only love a few people in the world, and I can’t hurt Dad.
“So we’re fucked, basically,” he says and I nod.
“Pretty much.”
He sighs and pulls me into his arms again.
“This is why I don’t believe in fate. If fate were real, we wouldn’t have anything standing in our way right now.”
Now I’m shaking my head.
“Fate isn’t easy. That doesn’t mean it real.”
He kisses me on the nose.
“You’re such an optimist,” he says. I’m not really. I just believe in things that he doesn’t believe in. That’s fine. He doesn’t have to believe.
“I’ll talk to Dad. I’m going to tell him. Mom’s getting back on Sunday,” I say, making a face. It’s been nice having her gone.
“I’m guessing I won’t be invited over for dinner anymore,” he says.
“Probably not.” At least not right now.
We’re interrupted by my phone ringing. I go to grab it and see that it’s Cash. Shit. I send it to voicemail and will call him back when Sylas isn’t around.
“Who was that?” Sylas asks, and I bite my lip. I promised to be honest.
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
He gets mad anyway, but a lot of the anger is directed toward Cash.
“It’s not his fault. I asked him to meet with me. I was supposed to tell you, but I didn’t. Things are going to so well and I didn’t want to fuck it up.” Pulling his phone out, he makes a call. I don’t need to guess who he’s calling.
“Yeah, what the hell were you doing talking to Saige and then not telling me about it?” He listens for a moment and I slink out of the room and hide in my bedroom to give him some privacy.
Not that he gets it. I can hear every word because he’s yelling.
There’s a beat of silence and then the bedroom door bursts open.
Yup, still pissed.
“Can we talk about this?” I ask. We’ve never fought like this, so I have no idea how Sylas fights. If he’s silent, if he wants to get it out, or if he wants to stew on it for a few hours. This is the part of our relationship that we’ve never gotten to do. The normal stuff.
“Sure. Talk,” he says.
I take a breath before I begin. I hope he hears me out.
“I didn’t know what to do. I had no one else to ask, so I called him. He knows you better than anyone, except maybe for Lizzy. I could tell you that I loved you but I didn’t know how to make you believe it. We just talked, and it wasn’t all about you.”
His arms are crossed and I can tell he really doesn’t want discuss this. He probably wants to go find Cash and maybe solve his problems with a few blows. I have the feeling that’s what he’s done in the past to settle disagreements.
“I was going to tell you,” I say. “I meant what I said. Total honesty.”
“Not telling me something is the same as lying to me, Saige. You’re smart enough to know that.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just so new for me. I’m used to keeping secrets.” How messed up is that? Lying is easier and more normal to me than telling the truth.
I see the tension loosen in his arms and his face, just a tiny bit.
“This isn’t going to be easy for either of us. There are bound to be bumps along the road. Doesn’t mean the trip isn’t worth it.” He’s worth it. I still feel like I know so little about him.
“I’m not happy about it, and I’m not going to forget this, Saige. But I put part of the blame on Cash for not telling me. He knows better.” Cash is in for another tongue-lashing, that’s for sure.
“He’s strange,” I say.
That makes Sylas laugh and I know our first real fight is over and we didn’t even get to the makeup sex stage.
“That’s one word for it,” he says. The tension is broken, so I feel comfortable asking questions I usually wouldn’t.
“How did you first meet?” I ask. His face changes and the laughter fades. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I’m so desperate for information on him that I can’t find by hacking into his computer or phone or going through his apartment.
He sits down on the bed and I sit next to him.
“Cash saved me from getting my ass beat at a bar. I was drunk and pissed and itching for a fight. I started throwing punches and he grabbed my shoulder and basically… well, he let me beat the shit out of him. Or as much as I could, since I could barely stand. And then he handed me a glass of water and two aspirin and took me out to the parking lot to cool off. He asked me if I’d gotten it out of my system. I told him to fuck off. The next night I was at the same bar and so was he. We’d both been through hell and once we started talking it was like we’d known each other forever.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal.
“That’s nice,” I say. “It’s good that you found each other.” I don’t know what it’s like to be floating in life. Adrift. I’ve always had Dad as my anchor. Even when I was an angry teenager and my mother didn’t understand me and I hated school and the friends I was supposed to be hanging out with, he was there.
“I guess,” he says. I want to ask about the rest of his crew, but I don’t want to push for too much. I had laid everything out in a letter, but Sylas’ past is going to come to me in little bits and pieces. Little notes that I’ll assemble and put together in the book that is Sylas.
“I’m sorry for not telling you,” I say. He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head.
“I know this is a huge adjustment for both of us. We’re bound to fuck it up at least for a little while.” Hopefully I won’t fuck things up too badly.
Twelve
“New sister!” Lizzy screams, just as happy to see me as she was the first time.
“New sister!” I say back, hugging her just as hard. Once the hugging is over, Lizzy takes my hand again and shows me some more of her art. They took a trip to a museum and she keeps telling me about “the dot picture” and shows me some she made. Pointillism. It makes me smile.
“You know, your new sister studies art,” Sylas says. His hand is on my back and I love that he’s not afraid to touch me in public now. I wonder if Lizzy notices.
“Really?” Lizzy says.
“Yes. We should definitely go to the museum together sometime,” I say. I’m not sure if we’re allowed to take her out on her own, but I don’t see why not.
“Yes, yes!” she says and then notices the presents we’ve brought. I got a little silly and decided to wrap everything, even though we’re basically regifting. Lizzy tears into the paper and it’s like we’ve brought her a pony or a million dollars or something. She’s over the moon.
Seeing her so happy makes me happy. Sylas’ arm is around my shoulder now and he won’t stop looking at me.
“What?” I finally say.
“Nothing,” he says, but he’s not getting off the hook that easily.
When Lizzy insists that we start watching one of the movies right away, we all pile onto her bed, and Sylas finds some microwave popcorn somewhere. I have the feeling he sweet-talked one of the nurses. He’s good like that.