Interlude I

INTERLUDE I

Xavier

“ S he just makes me so fucking mad.”

I yanked on my tie like it was a noose, and just like every other time I recalled Francesca insisting we were “over,” I wanted to rip it off and strangle someone with it. I wanted to set something on fire. Punch a hole through a wall. Do anything but admit defeat.

On the other side of her office, where she sat in a Chesterfield chair bookended by a fiddle-leaf fig and a wall full of postgraduate degrees and awards, Dr. Hazelwood eyed me through a pair of thick specs, then tucked a bit of her graying brown hair behind her ear. She didn’t respond right away, and it was a bit unnerving, like always. You could practically see the thoughts turning over in her mind like cogs, but whether she wanted to share them had everything to do with my reactions.

It was part of the process. I didn’t get the benefit of her reactions if I couldn’t deal with my own.

I still couldn’t decide whether I liked it or not, that self-control. Or the feeling that she could see right through me with a single glance.

It was the same look my mum would wear when I’d come home too late after curfew or get in trouble at school. Swear up and down it wasn’t my fault, that I had nothing to do with it. But she’d know in a second.

It was the same look Elsie had given me when I’d tried to convince myself to stay in London instead of coming to New York.

Same look Ces had nearly every bloody day, actually.

Women like that have got men by the balls from the beginning. The real question is whether you’re brave enough to let them take the lead. They usually know what’s best anyway.

I took ten deep breaths, flexing my hands open and closed, then visualized a calming place, just the way Dr. Hazelwood had taught me. Sometimes I needed to shove my face into an ice bath to calm down, but it was getting better. Right now, images of my favorite onsen in Japan were helping. So long as I didn’t imagine Francesca naked on my lap.

“I’m doing every fucking thing I can here,” I went on once my blood pressure had dropped to a normal level. “I took her rejection like a cuff to the cheek. Only came round when we had appointments or I had scheduled time with Sof. And now I’m moving into a bloody shoebox to be close to her because the woman’s too fucking stubborn to marry me like we both know she should.”

I expelled another long breath, then took a drink of water, wishing it were something harder. Even if it was ten a.m., talking about my feelings made me want to get pissed.

“Why do you think marrying you is in her best interest, if she does not?” the doctor asked. “Do you really believe you can decide that for her?”

I scowled. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s a bit paternalistic to assume she can’t articulate her own needs. Do you want a relationship where you are, in essence, acting like her father? Do you think that’s really what she needs? Or what’s best for either of you?”

Arrow, that one. Right through the heart.

“She loves me,” I said through my teeth. “I know she does. For one, she can’t stop looking at me. Every time I turn around, she’s right there, giving me them big green fuck-me eyes. Two months ago, I’d have had her on every surface of the apartment by now. She’d have called my name like I was Jesus Christ himself, and fell asleep in my arms, and felt better for it, too.”

“Pardon, but that rather sounds like lust, not love.”

“With me and Ces, they’re bloody close,” I retorted as I flopped back into the other Chesterfield chair and yanked at my tie. “Right now, she’s just punishing herself. And I’m supposed to say nothing? Do nothing?” I shook my head. “Fuck, if I so much as touch her shoulder, she scampers to the other side of the room like a scared kitten.”

“And why do you think she’s doing that?” Dr. Hazelwood scratched out a few notes as if I wasn’t glaring murder at her. “Can you think of any reasons why she might want to keep her distance right now?”

We’d been over this again and again for the past month and a half. I’d gotten into therapy mainly to figure out how to control my temper, but it was becoming clear to me that Francesca was, if not at the root of those issues, then certainly a trigger for them.

“She’s scared,” I admitted for what was probably the twentieth time since August. “She’s scared I’m going to hurt her again. Like I did before. Even though I swear to God, I did not kiss that woman.”

“Is it really about a kiss for her?”

I knew it wasn’t. Dr. Hazelwood knew it wasn’t. Ces said she believed that I didn’t kiss Imogene Douglas, and I believed her. It hadn’t come up once since we’d discussed it last.

But I’d broken her trust in a million other ways over the summer. Put a crack in the glass every fucking day until finally, the whole thing shattered. After going through nearly every interaction we’d had together, rehearsing them all right here in this office week after week, I was finally seeing what I’d done.

That’s why she was keeping her distance. It wasn’t just one kiss. It was too many other moments to count.

I sat forward and hung my head. “I’m not exactly a subtle man. She used to like when I was aggressive, but now I think maybe it makes her uncomfortable. But I don’t have time for her to realize I’m changing.”

“Don’t have time, or don’t have patience?”

I grimaced. See? Right fucking through me.

“Maybe it’s the latter,” I admitted. “Why wait when you can get what you want right away? Why waste the time, right?”

Dr. Hazelwood tapped her lips with her pencil. “Have you considered it’s not just your time that matters?”

Once again, straight into the gizzard.

I sat up in my chair. “Explain.”

Dr. Hazelwood said nothing, just fixed her steely gray eyes on me and waited.

Did I mention she also took me to task on day one for barking out orders? Yeah, our first session was a fun one.

I sighed. “Sorry, yeah. Would you please explain what you mean by that question, Doctor?”

Her thin lips spread in something that was almost like a smile. “Of course. Very good self-correction, there, Xavier. I didn’t even have to say anything that time. You’re learning.”

I nodded, ignoring the warmth in my chest at the faint praise. We’d established early on that I didn’t get much of that growing up—and that was one of the key things that attracted me to Francesca. Unlike my parents, she was the definition of warmth with Sofia. And when she turned that praise on me…fuck all. I was basically a pile of goo. A really happy mountain of melted Xavi.

“Time is relative to each person when it comes to emotional matters,” Dr. Hazelwood said. “The amount of time it takes for you to be ready for more may not equate to her healing time.”

“I know that,” I said. “I know that . But I just don’t understand why she’s denying everything between us. That ’s what’s so fucking frustrating. She keeps saying we’re over, and anyone with two eyes can see we’re not!”

More deep breaths. More onsen images.

It was like offering a pair of gloves to a man in need of a parka. It helped a little. But only just that.

“I think we’ve already established that you don’t like being challenged,” Dr. Hazelwood said. “You were punished for challenging others most of your young life, and as a result, you see any challenges to your authority as undercutting your value as a person. Control is the only way you’ve learned to avoid being hurt, and so you wield it like a weapon, anticipating others’ attacks.”

I ground my teeth together but didn’t argue. That was the root of every tantrum I’d ever thrown right there and the main reason I’d continued seeing the doctor after she’d ripped me to shreds. Her ability to compact complicated patterns into a sentence or two was attractive to someone like me who valued efficiency.

In other words, someone who wasn’t particularly patient.

Dr. Hazelwood tipped her head to one side as she continued. “The problem is that true partnership includes those challenges. One might say they are necessary for its growth. The fact that Francesca is asserting her own needs with your presence in ways she didn’t previously could be viewed as part of that progress, if you let it. She’s self-actualizing, if you will, which means, despite appearing otherwise, her confidence around you is actually increasing. Giving herself the time she needs, while drawing clear boundaries around the ways she is comfortable with you interacting in her life, and the ways she is not. If you can accept those boundaries—accept her —she will eventually interpret that as unconditional respect and love.”

“Yes, but what about my needs?” I demanded.

“Such as?”

“ Her .”

I pictured the onsen again, but this time Francesca was in it with me. And while, yeah, I wanted to kiss her, wanted to worship that body I loved so much, really what I ached for was her simple touch. The sweet giggle when I did something funny. The warmth in her bright green eyes when she looked at me with love.

My God, I missed her so much.

“Do you need her?” the doctor prodded. “Or do you want her?”

I shook my head. I knew where this was going. Dr. Hazelwood challenged that distinction on a regular basis, warning me that at times, my relationship with Francesca bordered on codependent, which would only enable my struggle for control.

But I couldn’t see it otherwise.

“It’s a need,” I said quietly. “Not because she props me up or makes me feel a certain way about myself. It’s because she’s my family. I need her just like I need to be around my daughter. Last Christmas, I walked into that party, and she was like a shining star, guiding me home when I hadn’t even known I was lost. And then she opened her door, and I saw my little girl, and…” I trailed off, finding it hard to speak as my voice cracked over the memory like an egg. “Look. For the first time in my life, I’ve got something to really live for, you know? I’ve got more than just a big kitchen and piles of money. And now that I’ve found it, I can’t let it go. It would kill me.”

“Those are very strong words,” Dr. Hazelwood said in a way that somehow managed not to be horribly judgmental. She had a knack for that too.

I swallowed. “Well, so are my feelings.”

She thought about that for a moment, then set down her pencil. “Then I suggest you own them. But don’t make her carry them for you.”

I frowned at my hands. “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s not her responsibility to bear the burden of your needs any more than you must bear the burdens of hers,” the doctor replied. “She has invited you to stay with her, which seems to me a positive step forward. But to be her partner is to acknowledge her boundaries and respect them until she moves them on her own. If you do need her, you might take her however she comes rather than trying to force her into something you want. Do you see the difference? We all need water. But we can consume it in any number of ways even if we want it hot or in ice. Do you see?”

I grunted. I didn’t like it, but I understood. I closed my eyes and took myself back to the onsen again. Francesca was there, but this time, I winked her away.

Practically ripped my heart out to do it. But if what Dr. Hazelwood said was right, then Ces wasn’t responsible for calming my emotions. Not even in my imagination.

The doctor tapped her mouth again with her pencil as she watched me wrestle with her ideas. “I don’t generally quote religious texts in session, but I am reminded of that famous bit from the Bible that’s always read at weddings. Perhaps you might carry it with you to New York as a bit of a mantra.”

“Oh?” I asked suspiciously. I was far from a church-going man. “And what’s that?”

Dr. Hazelwood smiled. “‘Love is patient. Love is kind.’ I believe you can be so as well, Xavier. For yourself as well as your family.”

“So that’s it, then?” Jagger asked as Ben pulled the car up to Heathrow later that afternoon. “All you’re bringing is the one bag?”

It had been a busy day. After therapy, I’d spent a few hours finishing up the last reports to the board of directors for the Parker Group. Elsie and Jagger had ridden with me to the airport, reviewing a few details of the things they would manage in my stead. Elsie had been promoted from CFO to assist Jagger in his operating capacity. I’d never had a CFO—not when I had my fingers in everything about the business. But right now, I needed someone who could essentially do my job for me. Considering Jagger had been doing that for the last few months, it was time to make it official.

I’d be back, of course. London was only a flight away. But for all intents and purposes, Jagger and Elsie would be running the Parker Group while I scouted possibilities for another restaurant stateside and, more importantly, fixed things with my family.

I shrugged as I accepted the suitcase from Ben. “It’s all I can fit in the wardrobe at her place. Not much room.”

“I’ll send more shoes if you want, boy,” Elsie said. “I can’t imagine you’ll be satisfied with only two pairs.”

“It’s all right. New York’s a great place to add to the collection,” I replied with a cheeky grin.

I was trying to think on the bright side. And in terms of longevity. No timetable, Dr. Hazelwood said. Patience. Kindness. That would be the key to success here.

“Anything else before I’m off?” I asked them.

“No,” Elsie said. “The next box of journals was shipped to Francesca last week.”

I nodded. “Good.”

Giving my family’s personal records to Francesca, one box at a time, was becoming a ritual every time I returned to New York. If I couldn’t have her kisses, I could at least have her smile every time she opened up a new package like a kid on Christmas morning.

My girl loved books of all types.

And I loved to see her happy.

“Nothing else of note,” Elsie continued. “Except, well. One thing. There have been some rumblings from the Lords. This arrived today from Lord Ortham.”

“Oh God,” Jagger mumbled. “Let’s not waste his time with that.”

“Show me,” I ordered. Then, remembering my session, I added, “Please.”

Elsie handed me a letter.

Your Grace?—

It may interest you to know certain neighbors of mine have recently submitted to the House of Lords a packet of evidence regarding a Japanese marriage license. Or lack thereof. I personally have reviewed several interviews, testaments to the absence of certain events, and I must say, it is rather alarming. You may find them worrisome as well, and I advise you to be prepared.

Yours,

Lord O

As soon as I read it, I understood why it had been sent by messenger and not electronically. As a member of the Committee of Selection in the House of Lords, Bernard Douglas, otherwise known as the Viscount of Ortham, Imogene’s father, and my neighbor in Kendal, was privy to information coming out and wouldn’t want a trail of this communication.

He was alerting me to a potential ambush. The question was why.

“So, what do you want to do?” Jagger asked after I was finished reading. “If you stay, you can probably make it go away. I looked it up, and more than one of the lords on the committee has dealings with the Duke of Kendal or the Parker Group. It will take some finessing, though.”

“But if you go, you won’t miss any of Francesca’s pregnancy. And you can make sure she’s not harassed by any more terrifying letters, too. Not to mention you’ve got a bit of work to do to get out of that basement, don’t you, love?” Elsie countered.

“When you put it that way, I’m not sure if there’s even a question about it,” Jagger said with a sly grin. “Parliament or Francesca? Which is more important to Xav?”

Elsie just folded her arms across her chest, looking rather smug.

“Parliament can kiss its own arse,” I told them, handing Jagger the letter. “Burn that. I’ve got to get back to my girls.”