Page 64 of Rivals to Lovers
CHAPTER THIRTY
Wes
Ulla was surprisingly steady for having her divorce revealed to the entire world. “It’s not the first time my secrets have been spilled to the press,” she said, and laughed. Wes was glad she’d handled the media so well and envied his mother’s unflappable nature. Years in the public eye had taught her lessons about what things to not take to heart, and he saw that this was one of them.
Wes had picked her up at her estate before driving to the Episcopalian church for Estelle’s wake. Wes’s hands shook as he drove, probably from too much caffeine. He also hadn’t been to anything death adjacent in years, since his grandparents had died when he was in high school.
They passed by the lines of flowering pear trees, sweeping white petals behind them as they drove. It was pretty here, though Wes couldn’t imagine living here full-time as an adult. His mother liked it, saying that if you were going to live in a town designed for tourism, you might as well live inGreenwich as Manhattan. “How’s Dad handling everything?” Wes asked.
“Oh, fine, fine. You know they don’t bug him as much. Plus, being in Tahoe makes him a bit harder to reach. If it weren’t a mutual decision to divorce, this would all be terrible, but honestly, Wes, it’s fine that things are out now. This wake will be intolerable, however.”
Wes agreed, for a lot of reasons.
The actual part in the church was peaceful and serene—mostly because it was nearly silent, save for a string quartet from the Greenwich Symphony Orchestra, of which Estelle had been a benefactor, of course. Ulla was also in that category and nodded at the viola player, a longtime bridge circle friend. The reception in the church hall was another story, enough to make Wes wish he were a praying man. He would have happily taken a knee and taken religion for a few hours to keep those eyes off himself. Something about the heady smell of the peony flower arrangements mixed with the perfume and cologne from a hundred local blue-hairs was enough to make him wish for one pair of giant eyes in the sky to pass judgment instead.
He grabbed a glass of wine and a corner and played rude millennial, glancing at his phone mindlessly. He’d seen a text come in from Mo but hadn’t trusted himself to open it until now. At least he wasn’t blocked anymore, but he worried about what she’d written. He swallowed a steadying gulp of cab sauv and opened it.
I am so sorry that things blew up. I feel responsible.
She’d apologized, which felt all wrong. It had been both of them talking, not just her. Wes couldn’t remember who had mentioned the divorce first, but he should have scannedthe situation better. He couldn’t text her back. A text was inadequate. He didn’t know what to say, had nothing witty or smart, had nothing but mess to offer her. Maybe that was all he’d ever had to offer.
He glanced up from the phone, surprised to see Gary in front of him. Gary’s eyes were red, but he held out his hand to shake. Wes took him in for a hug instead. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Wes said as he rubbed Gary’s back.
Gary nodded as he stepped out of the embrace. “She lived a good life. One to admire.”
“Where are Flor and Talia?”
“Still upstairs, mingling in the back of the church. I wanted to catch you before you left.”
Wes swallowed more wine and a wry laugh at the same time. “How could you tell I was going to leave?”
“Ulla’s being barraged with questions. I know she’s strong enough to take them, but I can tell you’re only so strong at letting her take them.”
This was too apt. Wes hated to see his mother pecked at. “Tonight is not about us.”
Gary nodded, then glanced around. “Things will be very weird for a while at the estate, and I wanted to warn you of that.”
The out-of-place wordweirdhit home. On one hand, of course they would be. On the other, something in Gary’s face made Wes pause. His expression told Wes he wanted to say something more, so he nudged with an “Oh?”
“When the will is revealed next week, communication might be dicey for a while with Estelle’s children.”
Oh, the old headache of inheritances. Such a mess, and something that had driven children and parents apart fromeven beforeKing Lear. “I’m sure Talia will find a way to make good TV about it, whatever it is. Inheritance always gets messy once both parents are dead.”
That response made Gary look almost sick. “Well, the thing is that Estelle had remarried,” Gary said carefully. “A few years ago. And revised her will accordingly.”
Wes spilled the rest of his wine on the floor in shock, lucky to miss splashing either Gary or himself in the mess. The implication was only too clear, the look on Gary’s face—wary, sad, and still proud.
“What?” Wes whispered, not going to make the mistake of speaking too loudly at a party again.
“Again, it will all come out, but it … hadn’t yet. I didn’t mind not making it public knowledge. After all, it was unlikely that Estelle’s children would ever really accept me as their family. And Estelle didn’t want it to be part of the TV show, at least not while she was alive. Now, I suppose, I don’t really have much choice.”
The thought of it seemed to be an insult added to injury, a new loss on top of the loss of Gary’s wife. “How—how long were your together?”
“About ten years. We just had our third wedding anniversary while she was hospitalized. Toasting with cups of Jell- wasn’t as romantic as an anniversary cruise, but I’m grateful for the time we had.”
Wes saw him, fully, now: the deep line between his eyebrows and the way his shoulders visibly seemed to carry a heavy weight. “You loved each other very much. I think I could tell that, but I wasn’t looking closely enough.”
“I was lucky to love her. Now I have to learn how to deal with everyone else learning that I did.”
