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We sit there for a few moments, lost in thought. The sun is gone now, stars twinkling in the sky, and the sliver of the moon hanging low. I take a deep breath of the cool, crisp air and feel a sudden need for the night to go on just a little bit longer. I want just a little bit more of Julia, before I release her back into her own life and reality sets in again.
Breaking the comfortable silence, I ask, “Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”
“Sure.” Julia stands up and offers me her hand. “I think that would be lovely.”
We carefully depart the boat and as we walk along the canal, we continue to talk, sharing stories about our childhoods and our dreams for the future. I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper for her with each passing moment, and I know that I want her in so many different ways. But Julia isn’t a woman my age, experienced in life and the intricacies of dating and the odd social demands of doing so in our old money social circles. One slip up, and everyone around us will believe I’m taking advantage of the younger woman. So I’ll have to be careful, treat this thing between us like it’s made of glass, otherwise it will shatter and I don’t know if I will ever be able to pick up the pieces.
“What if I speak to your Mom?” I ask her as we continue strolling along the canal. “Maybe if she knew me, she wouldn’t hate me so much.”
Julia looks up at me, her eyes widening. “You’d go as far as meeting her for me?”
Her question makes me stop instantly in my tracks as if offended by it. I reach out for her hand, turning her around to face me. My eyes lock onto hers, and a wave of determination takes over me. “I’d go as far as meeting your whole family for you, Julia.”
8
Sebastian
Friday passes in a blur.I know in the moment that I’m doing all of my work and keeping up with my responsibilities at the office, but I feel like a machine, just getting everything sent out while I relive the night before over and over in my mind.
It’d be all too easy to call Julia and see if she wanted to get together again tonight, but I’ve promised myself that I will give our burgeoning relationship room to breathe. I’ve given up completely on the ruse of us just remaining friends, but I still have to be careful with her. It’s a fine line that I’m walking with her, and the wrong move could have Margaret coming down on us both like a firestorm and then I might never see Julia again.
It’s a stretch, sure, but everything that I’ve been told about Margaret van Dieren makes me certain that she’s not a woman to be messed with, and that she does nothing by half-measures. She probably considers hiding her daughter away from me a totally reasonable move.
Before leaving the building, though, I pass by my father’s office. Given the glass wall, I can see him still working at this desk with his brow furrowed and a black coffee mug near his hand, steam rising out of it in curls, as if it was just delivered to him. I frown, knowing that this all means that he’ll be working late again, but what can I do? If I interrupt him, I might get dragged into his late night work session, and considering how I barely applied myself at all during the normal work day, I definitely don’t want to be doing more.
On the other hand, I know that my mother will be waiting on him once more at home, spending her time alone besides my younger siblings, probably wondering why she no longer is worth any of her husband’s time. It makes my heart ache, but I’ve already asked Dad about his marriage, and he’s blown me off effortlessly, so I think if I want to try and help my parents reconnect I’ll have to speak to Mom about it instead.
Pushing away a wave of guilt, I turn around and walk away from Dad’s office to the elevator, ready to head back to the family estate for the weekend and sort through the various problems that are plaguing me in the relative peace of my childhood home.
On the way out the door, I pass Karl, who has his arms still full of papers and is heading up into the building instead of out.
“Time to get going,” I tell him, pointing to my watch, but Karl shakes his head.
“Your father asked me to stay and go over a few of my more recent sales with him. That’s where I’m headed right now.” He looks uncomfortable, as if I’m going to be annoyed that he’s been tapped as the late-night partner for the evening. And maybe I am, a bit, but if he wants to talk sales then Karl is the obvious choice. I don’t want to stay anyway, but the fact that I wasn’t even asked…
“Make sure he doesn’t stay too late, okay?” I tell Karl, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “It’s not good for his health. But don’t tell him I said that.”
Karl laughs nervously, but nods, eyes darting to the elevator. He’s clearly in a hurry. “I’ll do my best. Er…see you on Monday?”
“See you then, Karl.”
Before I push the office door open to walk into the late evening air, I turn back and watch my father’s new protégé hustling onto the elevator, and wonder if I feel bad for him, or guilty that I didn’t make more of an effort to take his place. But then I let the door shut behind me and let the work day fall away from my shoulders.
I roll the windows down in the Aston Martin as I make the long drive back to my family estate, and try my damndest not to think of my father still cooped up inside his office of his own volition, and the young man that he’s roped into staying with him. It’s none of my concern. Right now, I’m going home, and I’m going to talk to my mother to try and get to the bottom of the rift in my parents’ marriage, before it’s too late for them. Just like it was too late for Julia’s parents.
* * *
I hand the keys to the car off to one of the house staff, unbuttoning the top few buttons of my shirt as I bound up the steps and into the estate home. I look up to the second floor and consider going to shower and change before speaking to my mother, but once she figures out that Dad isn’t coming home on time, she may just retire to her quarters for the night, and I don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to speak with her.
“Where is Mom?” I ask a passing maid, who tells me that she’s having a light evening meal out on the terrace. Both of my siblings are otherwise occupied, so this means that it’s the perfect moment to speak to her in private.
So I skip the shower and clothing change, instead just rolling up my sleeves as I head out to the terrace. Decorated in a Mediterranean style with a number of plush seating areas and warm lighting from lit torches, the terrace is one of Mom’s favorite places to get away from the world.
I find her right where I expect to, in the corner on a pillow-covered bench, under a canopy with a book in her hand. There’s a half-empty charcuterie board next to her and a glass of white sangria on the small end table. My heart swells seeing her here, doing the same things that she’s always done, and for a second I’m transported back to my childhood. When I was small, she’d let me climb up next to her and snuggle into her side while she read, maybe covering us both with a soft blanket until I dozed off.
Now, though, I lean down to kiss her cheek in greeting, and she smiles warmly. “Good evening, darling. It’s good to see you home.”
I settle into a seat across from her, waving over one of the staff and having them bring me two fingers of whiskey. When Mom frowns, I add on a bottle of water, and she nods in approval. I roll my eyes as she immediately takes a drink of her own sangria, but I guess some things never change.
