been since he arrived home yesterday.
“Yes, dear husband.”
His fingers curl around my bicep, digging in hard as he leans his mouth to my ear. “You keep giving me attitude and I’ll wash your fucking mouth with soap tonight after I fuck it.”
The fear of my husband I’ve been pushing away for weeks slams into me. I know he has so much more inside him that I haven’t seen yet, and I can’t help but think he has a violent streak I should be doing everything in my power to avoid stirring. But my attitude has a way of falling out of my mouth where he’s concerned, and as much as I know I should rein it in, I fail more times than not.
When he jerks me away from him, I walk inside the hotel, find my mother, and sit with her. She’s sitting at the table assigned to our family for this dinner, looking as blank as usual.
“Are you happy, Mum?” I run my gaze over her, taking in her perfect hair, flawless make-up, expensive dress, and trim figure. My mother looks like she has the world at her feet, but I know she doesn’t, and I want to know how she really feels about it. She and I have never had a truly honest and raw conversation in our life, and I doubt we will now, but people still sometimes surprise me; maybe she will.
She turns and frowns at me. “What kind of question is that, Chelsea?”
“The kind I really would love to know the answer to.”
Still frowning, she says, “No, I’m not happy that we’ve been made to sit at this table. It’s in an awkward position, and the light is shining in my eyes.”
“I mean in your life. Are you happy with your life?”
She opens her mouth to speak but snaps it closed before flattening her lips. “Really, darling, that’s not a question that can be answered.”
“Why not?”
“Because there is so much going on in my life that makes it impossible to answer. Some things are good, while others are not as good.”
I lean forward, my eyes boring into hers. “Yes, I get that, but surely you have an overall sense of your life and whether you like it and are happy.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “One doesn’t just decide if they’re happy, Chelsea. That’s not how this works. We just get on with the things we have to do and take the good with the bad. We don’t get to choose happiness in life; life chooses it for us.”
I have my answer and it makes me sad. That a woman can get to her age and not have a clue about whether she’s happy or not saddens me greatly. And that she thinks we don’t have the power to create our own happiness hurts my heart even more. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Joe and Dad, it’s that, yes, life can dictate a lot, but it’s how we choose to work with life that is the key to happiness.
I take a wine from the waiter as he comes past, and as I sip it, I think about my life. I think about the choices I’ve made and the consequences of those choices. I think about being my mother’s age and decide here and now that I will do everything in my power to know deep happiness. I will own the power I have to create the life I want. I do not want to look back on my life and regret a second of it.
I sip some more wine and consider a new approach for getting those files off Joe’s computer.
I also think about my father and how I’m going to bring him down.
It came to me earlier.
I’ve figured out how to force my father’s hand. After all this time, I’ve finally figured it out.
Now, I just need to sort out my husband.
Unfortunately, I think he’s going to be a handful. But nothing good in life comes easy, and Mason is worth every second of pain I’ll have to endure.
30
Gunnar
“Tell me again what the fuck we’re doing here,” I say to Griff as we enter an office building on George Street. It’s just after 8:00 p.m. and I’m not having any good feelings about this job Moss sent us on.
He jabs the button for the lift and looks at me. “You know why the fuck we’re here.”
“Yeah, and it feels off.”
The lift doors open and we step in to go