Page 108 of Cruelest Contract
“My father doesn’t come here,” he says with all his usual sarcasm scraped away. “He talks to a picture instead. I used to ask myself why and came up empty. So I asked Julian why.”
“What did Julian say?”
“That our dad can’t deal with the thought of her body lying in the earth. He’d rather look at her portrait and think of how she was in life.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and I discreetly rub it away with my palm. “I can’t blame him for that.”
“Idon’tblame him.” Getty gazes at the angel, his brow furrowed. “But unlike my father, I do like coming here. And when I’m here I try to make her proud. This is the one place on earth where I try to behave.” His frown deepens. “Fort and I were both at home that day.”
“You were just a baby. I’m sure you don’t remember anything.”
“Fort was a baby. I was three,” he says, leaving room to wonder whether he does have any memories.
A wave of the purest sympathy grips me to the core. We belong to the same horrible club. Children who have witnessed the murder of their parents.
“You don’t need to look at them,” I say. “Your memories, I mean. You can refuse to look at them.”
His eyes veer to my face. “Does that work for you, Cecilia?”
I chew the corner of my lip and close a door inside my head. “Sometimes. I’ve tried really hard to permanently lock away images of the wedding massacre. But I can still hear the tarantella that was playing at the reception. I remember how pretty the vineyard looked as the sun faded. I remember the smell of the grass when Julian tackled me. I would have kept standing there in shock. Your brother probably saved my life.”
Getty nods. “Of course he did. I’m sure he didn’t even think twice. Julian looked out for us whether we appreciated it or not. He always has. He always will.”
The admiration in Getty’s voice can’t be faked. Funny, I’ve seen the way he and Julian clash and I know their relationship is rocky at times. But beneath the petty squabbles lies a deep and irreplaceable love and respect.
“When is he coming home?” I ask, hoping that Getty might know more than I do.
The look he shoots me is closed off and severe. “When he can.”
Rough translation:Don’t ask any more questions.
“Tye gave you the wrong idea that day we had lunch in Vigilance,” he says. “He feels bad about it but I’m setting the record straight whether you want to hear it or not. Julian neverplanned to marry anyone else. You’re the only girl who has ever made him want to settle down.”
“Julian said something like that.” And he did, very briefly and over the phone. From Sicily, where he went for unknown reasons that I’m not supposed to ask questions about.
“It’s the truth,” Getty insists. “So you can quit moping around now.”
“I haven’t beenmoping,Getty. Anyway, why do you care what I think?”
His jaw flexes. Again, he glances at the angel before answering. “You’re my brother’s wife. No one wants you to be miserable here, not even me. You probably think I’m an asshole. You’re right. And guess what? I don’t plan to change. But I’m not such a selfish prick that I can’t see how happy you’ve made my brother. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Julian. That’s why I care.”
Some people are a constant riddle. Getty’s touching speech is very direct and completely sincere.
He didn’t just bring me here to see his mother’s grave. He had something important to say and he already admitted the reason why he chose this spot to bare his soul. He comes here to be the best version of himself.
“Thank you,” I say with a sniff. “I just really miss him.”
The look he gives me is wildly close to sympathy. “He’ll be back. Julian always keeps his promises.”
Teresa’s gravesite was carefully chosen. Nearby trees offer shade and the low hill breaks up the wind that whips over the flat valley. I look up into the face of the patiently watching angel. She sees all and judges none.
“Would you mind if I came here sometimes to visit your mother?” I ask.
“The ranch is your home,” he says with a shrug. “You can go anywhere you want.” He takes a couple of steps and then turnsaround. “Oh yeah. Sorry about that bullshit with your journal. It was a dick move.”
“It was. Apology accepted. Maybe I shouldn’t have called you chaos in a human form.”
“Why not?” He flashes a wicked grin. “That was my favorite line.”
