Page 55
Story: The Rejected Wife
Tyler
"Don’t make me regret that I made you an heir to my fortune." Arthur glowers at me from under his eyebrows. "I realize, you’re not happy with my condition, but in time, you’ll appreciate it."
We’re in his study. I received his command to come by and see him today. Not unusual for Arthur. He’s known to summon my brothers when he has something of importance to discuss. It’s the first time he’s called and asked me to come out of the blue.
The only reason I could make it is because I have Priscilla at home with Serene. In the month since she’s taken on the role of Serene’s nanny, my life has regained some semblance of normality. I have a little more space during the day. The nights, though, are still rough.
"Tyler, are you listening?" Arthur’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I yawn, then shake my head to clear it.
"Am I boring you?" my grandfather asks through gritted teeth.
Yes.
"Sorry. Didn’t sleep much last night."
"Serene still having nightmares?" Imelda asks in sympathy.
"She’s better than she was six months ago," I murmur.
It means, I have to wake up once, instead of three times every night to soothe her when she wakes up crying from night terrors. I don’t say that aloud, though. I’m wary of complaining about the challenges of raising my daughter when the satisfaction far outweighs any hardship.
Tiny heaves himself to his feet. He pads over, sinks down next to my chair, and pushes his big head into my lap.
"Hey, boy." I scratch him behind his ear, and he makes a purring noise in his throat. "Serene loves playing with him. He’s so good with her."
"He is." Some of the sternness in Arthur slips away. Other than Imelda, it’s this mutt he has a soft spot for. As for the rest of us? I often wonder if he tolerates us only because we are the bearers of his bloodline.
"You were saying?" I prompt him.
"That you need to get married."
I scoff. It’s Gramps’ favorite topic. He’s on a mission to marry his remaining single grandsons off.
"I put you boys in my will. And I want you to inherit your share of the Davenports’ wealth. But first, you need to get married."
I fix him with a scowl. It’s the first time Arthur has given me what sounds like a deadline on this matter. "You may have harangued my brothers but I’m wise to your machinations."
He pops a shoulder. "I've never hidden the fact that I’ll do what's necessary to get you guys married off. Besides, Ryot married Aurelia of his own volition."
"Hmph." It’s true that it was Ryot’s idea to help Aurelia pay off her father’s debts in return for her marrying him. But my brothers and I speculated Arthur had had a hand in setting things up, nevertheless.
"As for Quentin, Nathan and Knox, all I did was nudge them in the right direction." He looks pleased with himself.
"You told them you’d disinherit them unless they got married, which is what you’re trying to tell me now, if I'm not mistaken."
"You are the most astute of the lot. I know you’ll figure out a way to get married within the next four weeks—" He doesn’t complete the sentence. While it’s a barely disguised threat, he says it while managing to look innocent. A look which may fool an unsuspecting person into thinking he's a harmless old man. But I know the truth. He’s a devious, Machiavellian bastard who’ll do anything to get his way.
While Gramps was diagnosed with the Big C, the treatment was successful. He’s in remission and is settled with his girlfriend. No doubt, the diagnosis made him aware of his mortality. It’s why he’s putting a time limit on my getting married. He wants to see me hustle. And I get that. But I resent it.
Anger knots my gut. I shove it down, digging deeply into the patience I learned in the Marines—the kind you need when you're on a mission for weeks, getting close to the enemy, waiting for the right moment to strike—and refined as the single parent of a demanding and too-intelligent-for-my-own-good toddler.
Imelda scowls at Arthur. "What your grandfather means is that he’s worried about you.” She turns to me. “He knows bringing up a child on your own is a lot."
“Hmm.” I look between them. “Somehow, I doubt that, given Gramps hasn’t a single empathetic bone in his body”—Arthur opens his mouth, but I keep going—“but giving him the benefit of the doubt, and assuming that is his motivation, why has he waited this long to bring this up? Why didn't he do it when Serene first came into my life?”
“Because I knew you were trying to find her birth mother. I thought, perhaps, you might settle down with her.” Arthur shrugs. “Clearly, that’s not happening.”
Before I can react to that, Imelda rushes in with, "Not that you’re doing a bad job. It’s beyond amazing. As a single parent, you’ve been stellar. You’ve given so much love and attention to that little girl, it’s clear to all of us that she’s thriving."
"Don’t make me regret that I made you an heir to my fortune." Arthur glowers at me from under his eyebrows. "I realize, you’re not happy with my condition, but in time, you’ll appreciate it."
We’re in his study. I received his command to come by and see him today. Not unusual for Arthur. He’s known to summon my brothers when he has something of importance to discuss. It’s the first time he’s called and asked me to come out of the blue.
The only reason I could make it is because I have Priscilla at home with Serene. In the month since she’s taken on the role of Serene’s nanny, my life has regained some semblance of normality. I have a little more space during the day. The nights, though, are still rough.
"Tyler, are you listening?" Arthur’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I yawn, then shake my head to clear it.
"Am I boring you?" my grandfather asks through gritted teeth.
Yes.
"Sorry. Didn’t sleep much last night."
"Serene still having nightmares?" Imelda asks in sympathy.
"She’s better than she was six months ago," I murmur.
It means, I have to wake up once, instead of three times every night to soothe her when she wakes up crying from night terrors. I don’t say that aloud, though. I’m wary of complaining about the challenges of raising my daughter when the satisfaction far outweighs any hardship.
Tiny heaves himself to his feet. He pads over, sinks down next to my chair, and pushes his big head into my lap.
"Hey, boy." I scratch him behind his ear, and he makes a purring noise in his throat. "Serene loves playing with him. He’s so good with her."
"He is." Some of the sternness in Arthur slips away. Other than Imelda, it’s this mutt he has a soft spot for. As for the rest of us? I often wonder if he tolerates us only because we are the bearers of his bloodline.
"You were saying?" I prompt him.
"That you need to get married."
I scoff. It’s Gramps’ favorite topic. He’s on a mission to marry his remaining single grandsons off.
"I put you boys in my will. And I want you to inherit your share of the Davenports’ wealth. But first, you need to get married."
I fix him with a scowl. It’s the first time Arthur has given me what sounds like a deadline on this matter. "You may have harangued my brothers but I’m wise to your machinations."
He pops a shoulder. "I've never hidden the fact that I’ll do what's necessary to get you guys married off. Besides, Ryot married Aurelia of his own volition."
"Hmph." It’s true that it was Ryot’s idea to help Aurelia pay off her father’s debts in return for her marrying him. But my brothers and I speculated Arthur had had a hand in setting things up, nevertheless.
"As for Quentin, Nathan and Knox, all I did was nudge them in the right direction." He looks pleased with himself.
"You told them you’d disinherit them unless they got married, which is what you’re trying to tell me now, if I'm not mistaken."
"You are the most astute of the lot. I know you’ll figure out a way to get married within the next four weeks—" He doesn’t complete the sentence. While it’s a barely disguised threat, he says it while managing to look innocent. A look which may fool an unsuspecting person into thinking he's a harmless old man. But I know the truth. He’s a devious, Machiavellian bastard who’ll do anything to get his way.
While Gramps was diagnosed with the Big C, the treatment was successful. He’s in remission and is settled with his girlfriend. No doubt, the diagnosis made him aware of his mortality. It’s why he’s putting a time limit on my getting married. He wants to see me hustle. And I get that. But I resent it.
Anger knots my gut. I shove it down, digging deeply into the patience I learned in the Marines—the kind you need when you're on a mission for weeks, getting close to the enemy, waiting for the right moment to strike—and refined as the single parent of a demanding and too-intelligent-for-my-own-good toddler.
Imelda scowls at Arthur. "What your grandfather means is that he’s worried about you.” She turns to me. “He knows bringing up a child on your own is a lot."
“Hmm.” I look between them. “Somehow, I doubt that, given Gramps hasn’t a single empathetic bone in his body”—Arthur opens his mouth, but I keep going—“but giving him the benefit of the doubt, and assuming that is his motivation, why has he waited this long to bring this up? Why didn't he do it when Serene first came into my life?”
“Because I knew you were trying to find her birth mother. I thought, perhaps, you might settle down with her.” Arthur shrugs. “Clearly, that’s not happening.”
Before I can react to that, Imelda rushes in with, "Not that you’re doing a bad job. It’s beyond amazing. As a single parent, you’ve been stellar. You’ve given so much love and attention to that little girl, it’s clear to all of us that she’s thriving."
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