“Are you ever going to be well?” her words come out sharp, but I can tell that she doesn’t mean for them to be hurtful. “She deserves that, she’s been through so much,” her voice slightly breaking.
“And what about Caylen? How is this supposed to work for them?” She wipes her eyes.
“I know that this may be harsh, but I’m just so worried about them.” Her voice is tense but vulnerable. She stands and walks closer to me. “If Lauren knew I was talking to you like this she’d never forgive me, but I-I have to hear this from you…” She lets out a deep breath.
“Lauren will never walk away from you. I realized that today. She will never ever let you go, and it scares the hell out of me.” She glances up toward the bedroom Lauren is in. “You have to promise me. If you really love her, if you know that it is even a possibility of you coming anywhere near hurting her that you will walk away from her. I need that promise from you, from Chris, and from Cal. Knowing that would just help so much.”
She knows that I could easily tell her a lie. That I could give her an empty promise, but she seems relieved to have said the words, even if I could use those same words to turn the person she loves most against her. I remember when she was Cal’s biggest supporter, I saw her skepticism about Chris, and when she looks at me, there’s a mix of fear, skepticism, and exhaustion. I take her hands in mine and a flicker of a memory of the mother I used to know tries to enter my thoughts.
“I promise you that she’s safe with me, that I won’t do anything to hurt her. It isn’t in me or any of us to do anything that won’t be for her good,” I promise her, and can see that she’s still skeptical but hopeful.
“Is everything ok?” We both turn and see Lauren standing at the top of the stairs, and for the first time in my life, I don’t have anything to say. She looks like an angel, a white dress snaking around her body, a simple diamond necklace rests on her neck, her hair swept on top of her head showcasing the length of her neck. She’s always been beautiful. From the time Cal first laid eyes on her there was no denying that, but as she stands there right now, she looks regal, elegant, and vulnerable, like she’s a star of a 1950’s film, and it catches me off guard.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Raven is standing and walks to meet her at the stairs. I realize I haven’t said anything.
“Thank you.” She glances over at me, and her cheeks are flushed pink, and my chest tightens. She smiles at me shyly, one that I haven’t seen from her directed at me at least.
“Thank you for today, it was really needed,” she tells me.
“It was well deserved,” I clear my throat.
“Don’t you think mommy looks pretty?” Raven says walking across the room and picking up Caylen in her arms. She beams causing all of us to break into a smile. I take Caylen’s hand and kiss it. She’s the best thing Cal has ever done. To see so much of myself in her is still surreal, to see a bigger purpose to be better is a reminder for us all to be a better man.
“You two have a great time tonight.” Raven gives Lauren a quick hug and she squeezes my shoulder, a passing understanding between the both of us.
“You be good for auntie Raven,” Lauren tells Caylen kissing her on the cheek.
“Be good princess,” I hug and kiss her good-bye. “Shall we go Mrs. Scott?” I ask extending my arm to her. She nods and the smile she tries to hide peeks through.
“Yes we shall, Mr. Scott,” she says in an amused tone.
Our car ride is quiet, but there is a tension that you can feel, that’s intermingled with the smell of her perfume. She’s nervous, but trying to hide it. She keeps squeezing her wrist and hums along to the music which are obvious signs of her nervousness. We’ve only made small talk about her day, Caylen, her trip to the spa. I engage her when she opens up, but my thoughts are clouded and more unfocused than usual. My eyes keep drifting to the hem of her dress that keeps edging up, my mind keeps going back to the moment in the shower where she looked at me with equal parts reservation, annoyance and desire.
I can feel her eyes on me, and it makes things worse.
She turns down the music. “Are you ok?” She asks, her eyes studying me.
“Yes,” I tell her confidently. This is the first time I’ve had to tell myself to be confident, something that was once natural. Having to direct myself is a feeling I don’t like. “Why?” I ask, already knowing the answer. If I’m noticing things myself, it’s not surprising that she has too.
“You just seem a little unlike yourself, no pun intended.” She laughs, and I can’t help but grin.
“It’s still me,” I tell her and she chuckles picking up on my joke.
Her head turns toward the window, her eyes following the glitter of the city lights. I remember when Cal first brought us here. I knew then he’d never want to leave, he was addicted to the city the moment he entered it, just like he became addicted to her the moment he laid eyes on her. I’ve felt at home in each place that we’ve lived, which has been many over the years, indifferent to wherever we called home. It wasn’t until she became a part of our home that my indifference was harder to hold up.
My plan was to do something nice for her, something that would allow her to get away from the life we’ve dug for her. To give her time outside of the world she’s closed herself in. Whether she liked it or not was an afterthought. If she did, it would be good because it would keep her happy here in Chicago, which I need her to be so I can keep a close watch on what the Crestfields owe us. If she didn’t like it, I’d come up with another plan. The goal is always to keep everyone’s agenda in line. Balance is the key. After yesterday something has changed, so slight that any other person wouldn’t notice, but I noticed a shift has happened. It’s subtle, but shifts change the balance, and it’s so important for things to be even with me, neutral is always best. We pull up in front of the restaurant, and I open the door for her and give the valet driver my keys. I extend my arm and when she takes it, I can’t help but notice how good we fit. I also notice the lingering gaze of the valet worker on her as we make our way to the entrance. We’re immediately seated, and in one of the best sections of the restaurant—one that overlooks the lake and is close enough to hear the live band but not drown out conversation. Our order is taken, and I order a bottle of her favorite red wine, one that’s on the sweeter side. It’s not my favorite but tonight isn’t about me. I feel a pull in my stomach, more like a knot, ones that are usually reserved for Chris, but I ignore it.
“You usually don’t like for me to drink.” She looks at me with playful eyes and an amused grin on her lips.
I tear my eyes away from her beautiful lips and remind myself to focus. “There’s a difference between drinking for pleasure and in moderation and drinking for courage or numbness,” I take a drink of my water. She frowns slightly and her eyes narrow on me, reminding me of how she usually looks at me.
“Do you always have to be so serious?” she asks, a hint of annoyance in her tone but her expression is amused.
My eyebrow raises. “I didn’t know that I was always serious.” I chuckle, and she rolls her eyes and takes a drink from her glass.