Page 8 of Prince of Tides
“Laurie, he spent all dinner grilling me about my family business,” Eric said. “It was like a dick-swinging contest, where he had to prove that his was bigger. It’s not like we’re living paycheck to paycheck. My family has done well for themselves, better than most. We’re extremely lucky that way. So what if the business he created is twenty times larger? That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly ‘struggling.’ There was a time his company was our size, I’m sure.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I said, adding, “with my mom.”
“No, don’t bother,” Eric said. “It won’t change him. He’s got a burr under his skin that I’m lying to you for some reason. I have no idea why, though.”
“Me neither, darling,” I assured him. “But he’s getting on my nerves, too. If it keeps up, we’ll go home. We don’t have to stay here and put up with it.”
“I don’t want to pull you away from your family,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “I can just leave. Then you can stay.”
“No,” I said firmly. “We’re engaged. You’re my family, too, now. If they’re going to be jerks, then we’re both leaving. I won’t let them exclude you.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, opening the door to my childhood room and waiting for me to lead the way in.
“I’m sure,” I said.
“Okay.” He glanced at the door, chewing on his lip. “I’m going for a walk, okay? Just blow off a little steam, try to calm down. The last thing I want to do is take out my anger on you by mistake.”
“You sure you want to be alone right now?”
“Yeah,” he said, giving me a half-smile. “It’s for the best. I won’t be too long.”
I nodded and watched him go until he closed the door behind him. Once I was alone, I took in a deep breath, then released it. Part of me wanted to find my father right then and there and ream him out for being such a jerk, but I knew it wouldn’t do anything. Once he had his mind made up, very little could change it.
Not sure what to do while I waited for my fiancé to return, I paced around the room, trying to convince myself to flop down on the bed with a book or turn on the TV. It didn’t work. Repeatedly, I found myself facing the doors out onto the balcony.
There’s no way he’s still there. Come on.
I went anyway, pulled by the memory of his touch, the curiosity of it all overwhelming my knowledge that Ishouldn’tbe doing it. Even if I wanted to.
Cool air had me pulling my sweater tightly around me as I slipped outside, looking around. It was empty. I even walked out to the edge, looking left and right down the length of the walkway that joined each of the little alcove-like balconies assigned to individual rooms but saw nobody.
I lingered for several minutes, unsure what I was hoping for. What would I do if he came back? Stand around awkwardly while my body went into heat for him? That wouldn’t accomplish a thing.
A memory of his eyes, so green and vibrant, came swimming up out of nowhere, prickling the hairs at the back of my neck in the most pleasant of ways. Yes, I would enjoy seeing Rip again, whoever he was.
Eventually, surrendering to the chill of the air, I went back inside. There was still no sign of Eric. I’d expected him to be back by then, and I was bored. I hadn’t seen him in close to a month. I wanted to spend some time with my fiancé.
Setting out from the room, I went in search of him. My first stop was his usual hangout, the study. I pulled open the door. “Eric?” I called, but my brain had already told me he wasn’t there. The room was dark and unoccupied.
Tapping my chin in thought for a moment, I struck out deeper into the maze of hallways and rooms in the giant house, heading for the upstairs recreation room. It had been the playroom when we were children, but upon becoming adults, my father had repurposed it into a room perfect for playing board games or cards, a daytime TV room, or just a general-purpose hangout. There was no bar, or theater seating, no pool table or arcade games. Those were in the basement, where “they belonged,” according to Dad.
“Eric?” I called, stepping fully into the room and looking through it, but again, no sign of my fiancé. “Where the hell did you go?”
Thinking maybe he’d decided on some fresh air, I stepped onto the balcony and started walking its length, holding my arms to my sides. I passed darkened windows, peering into each of them as I went.
Walking the entire length of it without seeing a sign of him, I headed back inside, pausing and listening to the door of each room on the other side of the hallway.
Again, I came up with nothing until I reached the second to last door before the stairs at the far end of the house from my room. It was a footstep that gave it away, but as I came closer, I could hear the sound of muffled talking.
“Her father is a bloodhound, I swear. The man won’t give up on anything,”Eric was growling into the phone.
Who’s he talking to?He hadn’t told me anything about a phone call.
“Yeah, he suspects, but it’s fine, nothing to worry about. I’ve got her wrapped so far around my finger. She’s willing to leave him at Christmas to be with me. It’s all fine still.”
There was silence as the other person spoke. I felt a sinking sensation forming in the pit of my stomach as I replayed his words in my head. Wrapped around his finger? What does my father suspect?
I started to open the door, prepared to ask Eric what he was talking about, when he spoke again.
