Page 31 of Thick as Thieves
“Did you ever have a woman you loved?” I ask him. We’ve never really talked about his marriage to the woman who gave birth to me.
“Yes, I did. But she married someone else, so…” He takes a big gulp of his whisky.
“Did you ask her to be with you?”
“No, not outright, but she knew I loved her. And even though I was arranged to marry your mother, she knew I would have changed the plan. But I was not brave enough, Xander, to go for what I wanted. I left it. And other than you, I’ve lived that part of my life with lots of regrets. I had, and do still have, a lot of love to give. There’s still life in these old bones.” He pats his legs, and then his heart.
“You’re not that old. Sixty and still going strong,” I compliment him.
“Exactly, son. So I’ll warn Morag. Hopefully she’ll stay, but if not, then, onwards still searching.” I look at him watching me. His blue eyes, the image of mine, fixed on me.
“Dad, just say it, whatever it is. I can hear the wheels turning.”
“Be brave, my boy. Make that decision.”
“Which decision is it you think I need to make? You said that to me back in November.” I’m getting annoyed with him. He talks in riddles some of the time, and mostly it’s amusing, but not tonight.
“Yes, and look at the state of you. And we’re only in March.” His face is going red, and I can feel he’s frustrated with me.
“Which decision? I fucking left them alone. I went to LA. What else can I do?” I shrug helplessly. I’m shaking my head at him. “They have kids together. Even if their marriage doesn’t last, the kids will. Marcus will definitely not give up his children, any of them now. He’s the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time, so she’ll always be around in some way shape or form.”
He sits with his hands steepled, looking over at me, his face so like mine glaring.
“What the fuck, Dad?”
“The woman I loved”—he’s pointing at me now—“I would have taken her with or without another man.” He pauses then states. “And I did not love the man like you love Marcus Russell.”
I sit back, shocked. I’ve never spoken to Dad about Marcus or any of my love life, sex life, any of it. Although he must have seen it, everyone has, it’s well publicised. He’s never got on about it before, he’s never told me to stop, or asked me any questions.
“And Evie,” he puts in, “like you love her.”
I shake my head. “It’s complicated,” I say.
“No, it’s really not,” he spits out at me.
I look at him in surprise. “How can you say that when they’re married?” My tone is incredulous. He’s losing it.
“So, the simple thing is, do you love them? And do they love you? And by love, I mean full on with every fucking benefit.”
I laugh. He hardly swears, whereas every other word out my mouth is a fucking expletive. I decide to go for it, full and total disclosure. Any fallout, I’ll deal with it. Whatever the outcome. I feel like time is running out, on what I have no idea. But I feel it, like grains of sand through my fingers.
“Marcus does. I’ve asked him and he would. It’s Evie.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No, he’s terrified she’ll leave us. He’s worried she’ll think we’ve been playing her." I hold my hands out to him.
“Well you have to a certain extent—playing at lying to yourselves. He should have told her at the beginning.”
I look at him, confused. “Tell her what? There’s really been nothing to tell. We’re not full on. It’s all been very casual in the past. We do our own thing. He goes his way, I go mine. We’re not together, never have been.”
“Do you want to be full on with her and him?” He uses my words back at me and I hardly pause before I answer.
“Yes.” Raising my eyes to the heavens, I sigh out a relieved breath. Just saying it out loud is amazing, totally freeing.
“Well, be brave, Xander. There’s only one way to find out. Don’t live with ifs, buts, or maybes. Take it from me, it’s no way to live.”
I consider what my Dad has said all day, heading down to my workshop at the side of the Loch. Losing myself in sculpting, focusing on my hands, letting my thoughts run free, his words whirring round my head on replay.
