booze in sight.
“Feel what?” I asked her, cautious that perhaps she’d lost her mind in grief, something I hadn’t expected.
“The weight.” She paused to wipe the tears from under her eyes. “It’s gone. The weight is gone.”
I couldn’t understand what she was talking about. Then she got up from the couch and walked over to me, her back straight, her gait steady. Up close, I could see the intensity in her eyes. It shone like diamonds, buoyed by something like . . . happiness.
She placed her hands on either side of my face and then gently pulled my head down to kiss the top of my forehead.
That affection, so rare, so genuine, combined with everything that had happened, brought tears to my eyes.
“We’re free, Pascal,” she said to me, grinning as the tears spilled down, her hands still holding my face. “Both of us. We’re both free now because he’s gone.”
And then I understood.
Her tears weren’t of grief.
They were of relief.
The weight and power and control my father had held over our lives, whether we knew it or not, had been completely destroyed.
So even though my feelings toward my mother are complicated at best, I’m trying to look at her as another victim of my father’s. Maybe all her hate and spitefulness came directly from him, just as mine did. We were both products of our environment, damaged goods.
All of us are. But it doesn’t mean we’ll stay that way.
When it comes to the rest of my family, though, who knows what they’re going to say or think. I can’t imagine any of them will be mourning him, especially after the truth came out in a very big, very splashy way. I’ll be surprised if they even show, given how my father fucked up all their lives. And I certainly can’t imagine their attitudes toward me changing.
Months ago, that wouldn’t have bothered me at all.
But now it does.
There’s a knock at the door that steals my attention away from my thoughts, and the two of us turn around to see a familiar face poke in. I squeeze Gabrielle’s hand tighter.
It’s my cousin Renaud, who came in from California, who I haven’t seen since my uncle’s funeral. Of all my cousins, he’s always been rather intimidating. Tall, stocky, and stoic, Renaud is the silent type, and so I’ve never gotten to know him the way I did everyone else.
“Pascal,” he says, stepping inside. “Am I interrupting something?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. How are you, Renaud?”
“Not too bad,” he says, coming toward me and holding out his hand.
I shake his and then slap him lightly on the shoulder. “No jet lag?”
He shrugs. “Probably. I have to admit, this doesn’t seem quite real.” He pauses and studies me. He looks so much like Olivier in some ways, it’s disconcerting. “I suppose I should say I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And I suppose I should tell you thank you,” I say to him. “But I wouldn’t mean it. I appreciate the sentiment, but . . .”
He nods, pursing his lips. “Yeah. I know. This can’t be easy. Or maybe it can.”
“It’s easier now that you’re here,” I say, and then I gesture to Gabrielle. “She makes it easier too. Renaud, meet my girlfriend, Gabrielle.”
He gives her a charming smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you. From the papers, of course. You’re even famous in America.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she says, but her voice is light.
“It’s hard not to with this family,” he says. Then he looks to me. “You know I’m not alone, right?” he says. And then he moves out of the way to show that Olivier and Sadie are standing in the doorway.
Ah shit. I really didn’t think they’d come.
In fact, I hoped they wouldn’t, purely on a selfish level, purely so I wouldn’t have to face them again and be reminded what a lying, scheming, extorting piece of shit I was.
“Olivier, Sadie,” I say to them, my voice tight with anxiety.
Olivier doesn’t move. His eyes lock with mine, and I feel the venom in them. It’s enough to make my skin crawl.
Then Sadie pokes him in the side and tells him in fluent French, “Don’t be a big baby, go say hello.”
I give her a grateful smile. I’m so surprised—not only at what she said but at the fact that she said it in French.
She glares at me in return.
Fair enough.
Olivier heeds her warning and comes forward, with Sadie right behind him. He stops in front of me, and