Page 24

Dylan

S even years ago, I was invincible, soaring on a happiness so bright it felt untouchable. Jennifer had been quieter than usual on the drive to my parents’ house, but we’d been traveling so much I assumed she was jet-lagged. Summer had come and gone and I had yet to join my family’s business.

Part of me felt guilty that I was putting off my responsibilities, but I also felt that what I was doing was important.

Jennifer had seen so little of the world and I wanted to show her all of it: Kyoto, Machu Picchu, Marrakech, Kotor, Singapore.

.. each place we went made me want to show her another.

My father considered this irresponsible, but work could wait.

I had the rest of my life to gruel away in an office.

Jennifer was my obsession, my fiancée, and seeing her so happy made every other priority pale in comparison.

Our shared future stretched out like a dream I didn’t want to wake from. ..

Arm around her shoulders, grinning as we approached my parents’ doorway, I asked, “You ready to charm them again, Jen? Mom probably has a three-course dinner planned.”

She smiled, but it was a tight one. “Sounds nice,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “Carla is your cousin, right?”

“Sure is. She’s a hoot. Just know that she can be a little... extra,” I answered easily.

Inside, the foyer glowed with chandelier light, the cedar scent of the house wrapping me in familiarity.

My parents were waiting. My mother’s blonde hair was swept up, her smile warm; my father’s eyes steady, his handshake firm.

I was happy, stupidly happy to be there with Jennifer, to show them the life we were building. Nothing could touch us.

We moved to the library, its shelves heavy with books, the fire crackling like a heartbeat.

Jennifer sat close, but not as close as she normally did.

Her fingers twisted the hem of her dress.

I noticed her gaze briefly drift to the photos on the mantel, the one of my parents and me with various members of our extended family.

Staff came in and out, serving pre-dinner refreshments. Even though my grandparents were no longer around, my parents maintained a level of formality as if someone might appear and inspect the napkin placements at even their family dinners.

Jennifer shifted beside me, looking uncomfortable, and I was confused as to why. We’d not only eaten with my parents many times, but we’d also traveled with them. She knew them. She said she adored them. I didn’t understand what the problem was.

“Dylan,” she said, “we need to talk about Carla.”

“What about her?” I asked, confusion knitting my brow. “Did something happen to her?” Since meeting Jennifer, I’d distanced myself from Carla, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. I’d felt it was for the best.

Jennifer’s eyes hardened, and she pulled a stack of photos from her purse, tossing them onto the coffee table. “You’ve been cheating on me,” Jennifer said, her voice low, venomous. “With your cousin.”

My stomach twisted as I looked over the photos: Carla posing with me in a pool, us dancing drunk, laughing at a café, her hugging me at a family gathering—her head on my shoulder. None of them were recent photos and all of them were innocent moments.

She was family.

Unless, being adopted never quite gave a person that status. Was I supposed to forever see myself as an outsider because I wasn’t blood?

Family was family.

But clearly not in Jennifer’s eyes.

The room spun, the air turning suffocating. I must be misreading the situation. Was this some kind of joke? “Cheating?” I tossed back, incredulous, because it was absurd. “Jen, she’s my cousin. We’re close, always have been. You don’t have family you hang with?”

“She doesn’t see you as her cousin,” Jennifer snapped, her words a knife to my chest. “She says you’re in love with each other. Always have been. And you’re lying to me because you’re afraid to admit it.”

The accusation stung, slicing through my happiness like paper. Being adopted was something I’d told myself I was okay with, but it nipped at me at times. Mostly when I drank. Or when someone asked me if I was interested in finding my ‘real’ family. That one always cut deep.

Or, and this was my personal favorite, that I was lucky I didn’t have the competition of a sibling that was biologically from my parents—because, according to some, no bond could ever be stronger than sharing the same DNA.

I brushed those comments off, but like shit on the bottom of a shoe. .. the stench of them lingered.

I held a photo up. “You can’t possibly believe this means anything.”

“That’s exactly what all cheaters say,” she shouted, standing now, her face flushed with anger.

“You can’t gaslight me. I asked your parents about her, and they said she probably got confused because you’re not actually related.

Confused? You think I’m stupid? That I don’t know why you haven’t introduced me to her yet? ”

My parents, who’d been silent, shifted uncomfortably. My mother’s hand hovered near her wine glass, my father’s jaw tight. “Jennifer,” my mother said, her voice calm but strained, “let’s take a breath—”

“No,” Jennifer cut in, her eyes locked on me. “He’s a coward, hiding from the truth. Just like my father, sneaking around, thinking he can dismiss what’s clearly happening. You’re disgusting, Dylan.”

Not actually related. The people with the power to hurt you the most are the ones you’ve let the closest. Her words sliced through me, baring me to my vulnerable center. Disbelief quickly morphed to outrage.

Where was the love she’d professed for me? We were engaged. I’d put my own life aside and made her my everything. How could she not see how much I loved her?

How dare she use the fears I’d whispered to her in moments of intimacy against me?

I didn’t deserve this.

My parents would set her straight. Love was more than blood. It was stronger than accusations. Love was unshakeable loyalty.

I turned desperately to my parents; certain they’d shut this down. “Tell her,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Tell her Carla’s family, that I’d never touch her.”

My mother hesitated, her eyes darting to my father. My father’s expression wavered, uncertainty darkening in his eyes. “Dylan,” she said softly, “Carla’s always been... close to you. Maybe too close. We wondered if—”

“Wondered what?” I snapped, the betrayal a physical thing, a blade twisting in my chest. My own parents, doubting me, wavering when I needed them most. What did that mean about how they saw me?

Not as theirs? “You don’t believe me,” I said, my voice low, dangerous.

“You’re supposed to be my family, but you don’t see me that way. You don’t trust me.”

“Dylan, calm down,” my father said, his tone firm but not unkind. “We’re only trying to understand—”

“Understand what?” I shouted, my pride flaring, hot and reckless. “I did nothing wrong. You’re supposed to know that! Know me! Parents don’t doubt their sons because of a stupid photo. But that’s the point of all of this, isn’t it? I’m not your son.”

My mother shrank away from my rage, and my father’s face paled.

But neither denied it and that incensed me more.

I swung back toward Jennifer and snarled, “I gave you everything. I trusted you completely. But if you think I’d cheat on you, you’re not who I thought you were.

I’m disgusting? Me? Look in the mirror, sweetheart. ”

“I should have expected this. Did you think if you love-bombed me long enough, I’d blindly believe your lies?

” Jennifer’s face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks, but her voice was steel.

“I’m not my mother, and we’re done,” she said, throwing her engagement ring at me and storming out, slamming the door behind her.

The silence was deafening, the fire’s crackle mocking me. “She’s delusional.” I faced my parents, my chest heaving, every fear I’d buried roaring to life. Their silence spoke volumes. “Do you believe me?” I demanded, my voice raw.

My mother’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t speak. My father stood, his hands raised, placating. “Dylan, you need to calm down. This isn’t how our family behaves, and it’s not how we ever will.”

Our family? I stepped closer, my voice shaking but steady, fury blurring my vision. “Look me in the eye,” I growled, my gaze locked on my mother’s. “Tell me you believe me.”

My father stepped between us, his stance as unyielding as my own. “Dylan,” he said, his voice measured, “lower your voice and back up. No one, not even you, talks to my wife in that tone.”

His wife.

Not my mother.

She said, “Don’t misread caution as a lack of love, Dylan. You’re young. Impulsive. Even if there was something once between you and Carla...”

My heart fractured into a thousand pieces, and I lashed out verbally. “Why adopt me if you were never going to see me as your own?” My bitter accusation tore from my throat.

My father hugged my mother to his side. “Enough. Go cool off, Dylan.”

“Oh, I’ll go. But don’t think I’ll be back.”

“Of course you’ll be back, Dylan. I can’t even get you to work for me. How would you survive out there without us?”

His words were gasoline on the fire raging within me.

My hurt over Jennifer intertwining with what felt like the ultimate parental betrayal.

Had they believed in me, Jennifer would have too.

“I don’t need you,” I declared. “You never gave me what I really wanted anyway. I didn’t want your money or your job.

I wanted you at my graduation. I wanted you at my rugby games.

But I wasn’t important enough for you to put off a meeting for.

Well, you can have all the meetings you want now, because I’m out. ”

I stormed out of the house. Jennifer was already gone. How? No idea. To where? I didn’t care. I drove away, my heart a wreckage of anger and loss.

In the garden of my parents’ home, I jolted back to the present to find Jennifer at my side.

Her eyes were wide with fear but steady, like she’d stand here no matter what I remembered.

That strength, that love, it was what I’d yearned for back then and what I needed now, even if the past was tearing me apart.

My breath came hard, ragged, my chest tight with the echo of that day. “I remember,” I said, my voice hoarse from the weight of Jennifer’s accusations, my parents’ doubt, my own cruel words. It was all hitting me like a wave I couldn’t swim above.

Couldn’t catch a breath.

The loss, the regret, and the shame were unbearable. I’d left and cut my parents out of my life altogether, determined to show them that I didn’t need them. What kind of man wouldn’t go back the next day and apologize? Me. Proud. Angry. So focused on my own pain and insecurities, I couldn’t bend.

One year blurred into five then seven. Instead of returning to work for my father, I built my own financial empire. I told myself I was better off without them.

Better off without Jennifer.

So, why did I build a house and fill it with memories? Because my love for Jennifer remained even when I was certain she was the worst mistake I’d ever made.

I blamed her for my fallout with my family.

I blamed my family for her leaving me.

But no matter how angry I was with all of them, I couldn’t throw our wishing frog away or delete my family’s photos from my phone.

The realization of how much I’d hurt the people I loved and how long I’d allowed myself to be that bitter made me sick. Physically sick.

I bent over, fighting back a nearly overwhelming desire to vomit.