Page 45 of One Vow

I flicked on the fireplace and sat in front of it, holding my hands in front of flickering blue and orange flames. Waiting while my anger boiled just under my still freezing skin.

He’d meddled. In a way I couldn’t, wouldn’t forgive. Paid my husband to leave me. Which also said something about the strength of my relationship with Finn, but that was separate. An issue I couldn’t focus on right now. Too hurtful. To be contemplated over a big bottle of tequila at a later date. As far out as I could manage. Maybe never because honestly, I didn’t really need that kind of hangover.

When I finally warmed, when I could at least feel most of my fingers and about seventy percent of my toes, I went to the kitchen. Dad, wherever he was, would need dinner at some point and since I planned to make him drive me home after we had our conversation about Finn, dinner was the least I could do.

An hour later, chili simmering on the stove, crusty bread in the oven, and beers chilled, I turned on the TV to wait.

And like a ghost from the past, the very recent past, Beth Cooper’s face filled the screen. Her perfectly arched eyebrows, clear eyes, and sunny blonde hair. Beth Freaking Cooper.

On an ordinary day, I wouldn’t have watched, but Beth Cooper hadn’t done TV in Maine since she left for the west coast and became some kind of investigative reporter or some tired old shit like that. But here she was. Except this wasn’t local news. This was cable news. Not just Maine. The entire nation.

And as I watched her imbibing soundlessly thanks to volume control, a picture of Glouster flashed onto the screen. A horrible sense of oh, fuck churned in my belly. Made my head ache. But I couldn’t look away. I knew what was coming. The exact video that would play behind her as she spoke. As she brought a ten-year-old scandal back to life.

I didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t feel the rush of cold air as Dad stood in the doorway behind me. “Turn it off.”

But I couldn’t. This was my train wreck. The one I couldn’t look away from. At least when the video played, they’d blacked out my face this time. But once again, my dad saw what I’d done.

For a minute, anger was difficult. A minute. Then the screen flashed to commercial, and I had a whole lot of rage needing dispensed. Starting with him.

“You paid Finn to leave me,” I spoke softly because this story resurfacing wasn’t going to be easy for him either. Not as a chancellor or as a father.

“I did what was right for both of you.”

His arrogance wasn’t anything new. I’d seen it my entire life. Usually, I found it comforting. His confidence made me feel safe. But he’d bribed my husband into ditching me.

“It wasn’t your choice, Dad. You didn’t have a right to…,” He cocked an eyebrow, and I went silent.

“Right to protect my daughter? To give a boy who made poor choices a chance that just also happened to benefit the little girl I raised alone?” Oh, and he could do haughty and outraged better than any actress on an evening soap opera. “What did you expect me to do? Invite him to family dinner?”

As a matter of fact, yes. I did. “I expected you to let me live my life.”

He laughed but not in the good way, in the condescending not a laugh at all way.

“Because you were doing such a great job?” Another scoff. “Because your TV debut was such an Oscar winner? I mean there’s a proud moment, right? I got to watch my daughter…” He shook his head.

“I didn’t just want him out of town. I wanted him dead. But I’m too pretty for jail.”

And sarcastic. More arrogant than even two minutes ago.

He breezed past me to the kitchen where he pulled a beer from the fridge, popped it open, and took a drink before he looked over the half wall that separated the rooms.

“Felicity, you’re my daughter. It’s my job to make sure you have every opportunity in life. Finn Makenzie would’ve robbed you of any chance you might’ve had.” He pointed the rim of his Sam Adams lager at me. “And look at you now. You’re successful. Smart.”

I couldn’t listen to him tick off attributes that only showed half the story. I wasn’t well-rounded or complete.

“I’m lonely, Dad. As in alone. Without companionship. And still on TV. Ten fucking years later.” I rolled my eyes and stared as Beth Cooper’s smile came back onto the big screen hanging over the fireplace. A recorded earlier tab at the top corner said this was a replay I could’ve lived without seeing. Without knowing existed.

How could this still be lingering? No criminal charges had ever been filed. No civil suits made. It wasn’t even the anniversary. That had happened earlier in the fall. Not on the day before Christmas Eve. The day before Finn’s wedding to Beth Cooper.

My heart palpitated, rejecting the thought, knowing Finn belonged with me. And I’d let him go. Again. This time, practically forced him out. I deserved this ache. Earned the sadness.

I stared at the TV. Read the caption under a picture of the university. The scandal, ten years later, has sparked a class action suit against Glouster University.

Oh shit.

“After the new year, a judge will decide if Glouster University can be held accountable after a decade for the videos of the victims that were posted online.” And Beth Cooper elaborated while I glared at the screen.

I looked at Dad. Why hadn’t he told me? “Our attorneys believe that even though they used the university’s network, only the boys themselves could be held responsible and the statute of limitations against them has expired.” Dad sighed. “The publicity has been bad, but I think it’s going to work out. We’ve offered counseling for the victims, and we’ll settle if we have to.”