“Rainey, you need to go to him.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“All my life, I’ve watched women cave. Cave to society, cave for families, and cave for love. I thought I would never be like that but look at me.” I spread my arms. “Look at me. All I do is cave. I’ve had more dates over the past sixty days than I’ve had in six years just to protect my family from public ridicule.” I take a deep breath. “If I seem stubborn, it’s because I am. If I appear hurt, it’s because I am because I know my worth, and it’s more than this.”
Momma’s mouth opens and closes. I’ve stunned her to silence. After a few seconds, she dips her head. “Very well. Just promise me that before the ball, you truly think this through. I can try to lead you in life, but I can never lead your heart.”
“I promise.”
“I believe I’ll go retire to my private quarters for the rest of the afternoon. I trust I’ll see you for dinner?”
I nod and watch Momma mold back into the calm and composed Southern lady I’ve always known her to be. If I didn’t feel her arms around me minutes ago, I would have questioned whether the moment happened, and I saw the brief display of emotion.
Once Momma leaves the room, I promptly sag against the wall and close my eyes. I want to go to Livingston right this instant. I want to tell him about my day, and when I’m finished, I want to feel his arms around me.
I want to, but I can’t.
CHAPTER FORTY
Livingston
A clear mind, one that’s not muddled by alcohol, is far more unnerving than I ever anticipated.
If I’m being honest, I haven’t faced my thoughts and emotional upheaval since my brother and parents died. There was so much to do, and when I grew restless, there was always a willing woman and liquor cabinet that could be opened. It became a comfort, a way to alleviate all my pain. But I knew something was wrong with me. The war just brought it out of me.
I don’t want to live in fear of the past, but I don’t know anything else. Reminders are everywhere. A specific scent can immediately bring back moments from the trenches. Once, there was a large crash directly outside my office window. The next thing I knew, I was crouching behind my desk for cover. After several deep breaths, I stood. Sweat made my shirt cling to my back. I’m beginning to believe the shadow of my nightmares will always follow me.
Over and over again, I would remind myself that I wasn’t there. I was safe. I was still alive. And then I would occupy my time by doing something that was rarely expected of me: I begin to plan for the future.
My steps are sure and oddly confident as I walk down the street. It certainly isn’t derived from my sleepless nights. Just last night alone I reached for Rainey over three times only for my hand to meet empty space. She really wasn’t beside me.
No, my confidence is born from my recent decision. When I walk through the door of my brother’s company, EAL Corporation, my grip on the folder tightens as though the papers are going to fly out of my hand.
The receptionist, Myrtle, looks at me dubiously. She was hired shortly after the war broke out, and it looks as if she could be my mother’s age. Every time I come in here, she frowns at me as though I’m up to no good and will only distract Étienne and his employees. In the past, she might’ve been justified, but today I came for a reason.
“I’m here to visit with the man who refuses to smile,” I say to Myrtle before I walk past her and head directly to Étienne’s office.
“Good mornin’,” I greet as I shut the door behind me.
Étienne lifts his head and then immediately glances at the clock on his desk. “Mornin’,” he says, surprise coating his words.
“Yes, I am aware of what time it is,” I say as I sit across from him. “And no, I’m not sufferin’ from the effects of alcohol.”
“I wasn’t goin’ to say that. You look remarkably clearheaded. Which is interestin’ considerin’ Rainey has to choose a bachelor in …” Étienne clucks his tongue as he tallies the days. “Six days?”
“Three,” I immediately reply. I have the deadline memorized.
“Three days,” Étienne repeats.
I drum my fingers on the leather-bound folder on my lap. I didn’t come here to discuss Rainey. All I seem to do is think about her. She needs space, and that’s precisely what I’ve given her. The days haven’t become easier though. Even before I claimed her bed as my own, her place in my life felt like the ground beneath my feet. Always there, unwavering and strong. Without our sparring, I felt lost, wildly reaching for anything to break my fall.
Had I felt this way before? No. I didn’t stay long enough with a woman to find out. I entertained the idea of bringing home a woman, but the desire wasn’t there as it typically is. But it will be. The second I’m able to disregard what it is I feel for Rainey.
My brother whistles, pulling me from my thoughts. “That’s certainly a short period of time to find a husband.”
I lift a shoulder, attempting to appear indifferent. “It’s her choice.”
“I think we both know it’s not, though.” He looks at me carefully. “The most interestin’ thing has occurred since you came back from Savannah. Suddenly, Rainey has turned to me as though I’m the executor of her will and askin’ me about her family’s accounts. Any reason for that?”
Twins are connected in such a way that they know when the other is hurting or hiding the truth. Between the two of us, Étienne was more adept at recognizing when something was wrong. He can regard me for a matter of seconds and just know.
“What happened?” he asks, his voice flat.
“Nothin’.”
Étienne narrows his eyes. “Lies.”
“There are no lies,” I lie.
Étienne shakes his head before I finish my sentence and goes about organizing papers on his desk. “You can be deceitful if you wish, but I think you’re forgettin’ who my wife is. Serene tells me everythin’.”
I rub both hands down my face. “Why inquire when you already know the answer?”
Étienne lifts a shoulder. “I wanted to hear if you might have anythin’ else to say.”
“I don’t.” I sit a bit straighter in my chair. Prepared to endure the weight of my brother’s stare. At the last moment, I decide to speak. “I made several missteps with Rainey. I won’t deny that. She’s upset with me and told me to never speak with her, but in time, she’ll realize this is all for the best. Right?”
Étienne continues to regard me.
“Yes, it’s better this way … you helpin’ her with the finances and givin’ advice. I offered her a loan, and she declined. I tried to give her another option.”
“I think we both now realize she and Mrs. Pleasonton are in deeper than we imagined.”
Closing my eyes, I roll my neck. “I know.”
“It’s bad, Livingston.”
Étienne proceeds to pull out the Pleasonton ledgers in his possession. “There are legitimate miscalculations that could have been caught if their accountant went over the books again. But then …” Frowning, Étienne pours through the pages before he points at an entry toward the bottom of the page. “You have this and this.” He points at one last invoice. “This service was to pay for new drapes in the sittin’ room. Instead of deductin’ from the already inaccurate total amount, the same amount from the line above was used. There are mistakes like that on nearly every page.”