Fake Empire(94)

I nod. Everyone, he means. “She’d forgive you, Dad.”

He hums a sound with a subtle undertone of thanks.

I glance outside to see Scarlett and Teddy have disappeared. “I should head upstairs. Scarlett is a light sleeper. I don’t want to wake her up.”

My father nods as I down the end of my drink and stand. I’m halfway to the door when he speaks. “Crew.”

I turn. “Yeah?”

He’s looking outside at the snow, not me. “Don’t mention any of this to Oliver. Candace isn’t one to turn down attention. There’s still a chance he’s not the father.” I’m sure I look like a goldfish. My mouth is gaping, but no sound comes out. He chuckles. Dark and ominous. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. Now I do.”

I don’t say what I’m thinking. That I didn’t think he knew. I want to ask if he’s planning to say anything to Oliver—or Candace—but I sort of don’t want to know. Mostly, I want to pretend this conversation never happened. “I suspected.”

He’s still staring at the yard. “You should probably request a paternity test yourself. Can’t be too careful.”

Any sympathy or understanding drains away like liquid down an open drain. If he wanted either, he shouldn’t have brought her into it. “You’re right, Dad. Mom would be disappointed in you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch. “We need to talk more tomorrow, Crew.”

“Fine.” I walk out of the study and slam the door behind me.

When I enter the room I’m sharing with Scarlett, she’s a lump under the covers. Teddy is curled up in his crate in the corner. He sits up when I close the door behind me. I kneel beside his crate to scratch his ears through the bars. Scarlett is still in the same position when I stand. I walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed before sliding under the covers next to her.

I lie there and stare up at the ceiling I can’t see in the dark, trying to pinpoint exactly when my family became so screwed up. Whoever said money can’t buy happiness was clearly onto something. Most of the rich people I know are perpetually unhappy. Wealth provides security. Too much money makes you feel untouchable. And that can easily become dangerous. Higher highs and lower lows.

“What time is it?” Scarlett’s groggy voice comes from my left.

“Little past eleven.”

She groans. “I went to bed a half hour ago.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

“It’s not you. I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

We lie in silence, side by side. This is my favorite part of every day: falling asleep beside her.

“Crazy about Candace, huh?”

I can’t muffle the snort that escaped. You have no idea.

“What?” she demands.

“My dad isn’t the father. But…Oliver might be.”

Silence. I wonder if she managed to fall back asleep in the thirty seconds it took me to answer her question. Then, I hear it. Muffled at first, until it becomes unmistakable.

Laughter. She’s laughing. Harder and less reserved than I’ve heard her. And maybe people are right about it being contagious—because I start laughing too.

A few minutes ago, when I climbed into bed, I was tense and uncertain and sad. Cynical about how little of privilege feels real. It’s zeroes in a bank account—nothing tangible. Complimenting people you can’t stand. Pretending you’re happy when you’re not.

Nothing about laughing with Scarlett feels fake. Not the sound of our amusement or the way I suddenly feel loose and light.

My father married Candace. Oliver slept with Candace. Candace made morally gray decisions. The only one I pity is the innocent child who will be affected by those choices.

“Remember when you told me your family wasn’t messy?”

I smile in the dark. “I didn’t see this coming.”

“How do you know your dad isn’t the father?”

“According to him, he got a vasectomy. Years ago, after my mom died.”

“You believe him?”

“I don’t see why he would lie.”

“And he never told Candace?”

“Doesn’t sound like it. I didn’t ask. I think he assumed it would only become an issue…”

“If she cheated,” Scarlett finishes.

“Right.”

“And how do you know Oliver might be the father?”

I sigh at the reminder. “He told me there’s a chance. I talked to him before dinner. He’s freaked out by Candace’s announcement…to say the least.”

Scarlett scoffs. “Yeah, I guess he would be.”

“I told my dad you’re pregnant,” I blurt. “Before we talked about everything else.” That seems like an important distinction to make, given what everything else entails.

“Did he tell you to get a paternity test?” It’s not what I’m expecting her response to be, and the surprise shocks me silent, giving her the correct answer. “Wow.”

I stumble through my thoughts, trying to figure out how to respond. I’ve been careful when it comes to Scarlett and feelings. Not to accumulate them, because I’ve stacked up plenty. But to express them. I think about her constantly: when I eat, when I’m at work, when I jerk off. I don’t pay attention to other women. My mood revolves around hers. I know what all that adds up to. But I love you and paternity test aren’t two phrases that belong in the same conversation.