Colleen summoned everything she knew to be true about herself, her strength, her willpower, her core of being, to pull herself from her bed.
None of those things were more powerful than her all-consuming grief, and she didn’t understand why. At no point in her life had she ever been a victim of something she couldn’t overcome. Not even the losses of her father or Maddy had rendered her so paralyzed.
If this was love, why did she feel like this?
If this was love, how could Noah have walked away so easily?
If this was love, why would anyone in their right mind ever want it?
She missed the deadline for fall registration. One professor called to ask after her, which she knew was not the typical treatment for students. He beseeched her to contact the admissions department as soon as possible, or risk missing a term. He’d sounded really, genuinely concerned, and that only made her feel worse. Even the looming repercussions from this weren’t enough to fight the magnet of depression weighting her to her bed.
Noah hadn’t called. He hadn’t written. Two days after he’d emptied his things from the apartment, she found his favorite shirt, but he’d said nothing about it, or made no attempt to retrieve it, and so now it was her favorite shirt. Or would be, if she could make herself get dressed.
Although Noah wasn’t calling, Colleen’s phone rang incessantly. Evangeline, mainly, but also her mother, Elizabeth, Maureen, and even her brothers. She knew who was calling because Charles had shipped her this ridiculous contraption called an answering machine, something she’d seen only once or twice, and never in her own home, because such an indulgence would have been insulting to a woman as practical as Irish Colleen. His note had said, Now you have no excuses when Mom calls, and I don’t have to hear about how terrible you are about keeping in touch.
Irish Colleen’s calls were always a surprise, because the long-suffering Deschanel mother viewed long-distance charges as an unnecessary frivolity. Unless someone was dying, a letter would suffice.
The answering machine had long since run out of space on the tape, and Colleen had no inclination to do a thing about it. Now, when the phone rang, she didn’t know who was on the other end, and it was better that way. They all knew by now why she hadn’t come home. When the phone calls grew more and more worried, Colleen gave Evangeline permission to tell them, so they’d stop worrying and leave her alone. She hadn’t wanted them to know about Noah when they were together, and now that they were apart, their knowledge of him stung in a way that made the breakup that much harder. She saw herself through the eyes of her pitying siblings, and there was nothing worse. Poor Colleen. She tried to love, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
She ignored them.
Their calls.
Their letters, which reminded her that enough time had passed for them to know about her heartbreak and for a letter to arrive from the United States.
Their tender sympathy.
Even Ophelia’s letter, which would undoubtedly contain wisdom she needed, sat unopened in the pile under the mail slot. Her familiar, flourished scrawl burned at Colleen’s heart, but it wasn’t enough.
Nothing was enough.
The phone rang again.
Colleen wished she had the energy to get up to unplug it.
Instead, she pulled the blankets over her head.
“Yes, I’m fucking serious. Do you not remember our talk in the hospital when Nicolas was born?”
Colin grimaced. “I remember you were in a state.”
“A state. What the fuck is that? We live in a state, Colin, that doesn’t make us a goddamn state.”
His friend folded his hands over the dark mahogany desk. All around him were richly-colored, leather-bound books Charles doubted Colin would read, but certainly helped set the impression that, like all Sullivan attorneys, he was esteemed.
“I don’t know why you’re yelling at me, Charles.”
“I’m not yelling!”
“What does Cordelia say?”
“Who gives a fuck about what Cordelia does or doesn’t say?” Charles snorted. He uncrossed his legs and set his other foot atop his knee, leaning back. “If she didn’t realize what a stupid decision it was then, she does now.”
“How so?”
“I threatened the bitch with divorce.”
Colin’s eyes widened. “Oh. How did she take it?”
“I don’t think the hellbeast grasped that, with my son born legitimately, I don’t even fucking need her anymore.”
“Yes, but why wouldn’t she want a divorce, too? Her father is gone, and as you vaguely explained to me before, you only married her to appease some agreement between your dads. Neither of them are here to say anything about it.”
Charles threw his hands up. “She’s a banshee! Who knows why Cordelia thinks the way she thinks? I gave up trying to figure out her bad witch routine a long time ago.” He rotated legs again, easing a bit. “She, I don’t know, gives a shit what society thinks, which makes no sense at all seeing as she treats everyone she comes in contact with like she’s a minion of Satan sent to steal their joy.”
Colin blinked hard.
“It probably doesn’t hurt that she’s penniless, too.”
“What about her father’s company?”
“She sold her shares. Remember?”
“Yes, that’s right. We helped her with the transaction.”
Charles shrugged. “Wasn’t as if there was anything left even if she hadn’t sold.”
Colin nodded slowly. “So she’s motivated to stay, and yet she can’t give you more children.”
“Can’t?” Charles rolled forward in his seat, slapping his hands against the desk, delighting in Colin’s light jump. “Let’s not pretend the bitch didn’t orchestrate an ‘emergency’ hysterectomy to avoid ever fucking me again.”
“Huck, it isn’t as if you want to sleep with her, either.” Colin’s eyes traveled north, as he considered his next words. His face portrayed his search for patience. “Do you really want more children? Is that really what’s at play here? Or is this something else?”
Charles wanted to swipe his hand across the desk and send the contents sailing. That might make his point. He didn’t have a channel for his frustration, and so it bubbled through the pores of his skin, burning, demanding a better release. “I want a daughter. Don’t you dare bring up what I think you’re about to bring up, either.”
“I wouldn’t. Not unless you did first.”
“I don’t ever want to talk about it. She’s not mine. I want one who is.” Charles rubbed his index finger over his nose. “I thought Nicolas would help me forget about what happened. About what’s out there.” He wagged his finger at the window. “He didn’t. He’s my son, but I didn’t lose a son, now, did I?”
Colin’s silence was soothing. Charles had always liked his friend best when he listened, resisting the urge to proffer his opinion, which was always superior.
“Even if that bitch Cordelia could have more children, I don’t want her infecting the household with more of her tainted genetics. It’s going to be enough work for me to exorcise her out of my boy.” Charles jumped up and started pacing. “Cordelia can’t have children, but we both know who can.”
“And Cordelia?”
“Have you been paying attention at all? Who gives a fuck about Cordelia and her feelings? She didn’t give a fuck about mine when she had her insides ripped out!”
“You’re not worried that having children by your mistress nanny will be a bad look?”
“Not the least bit, because you’re going to draw up papers, which I’ll take to the bitch to sign, that say if she wants to stay married then she better learn how to be an Oscar-winning actress and claim any children Lisette might have as her own. And if she ever so much as breathes one word to even a single person, she’s on the street, and I don’t care what happens to her.”
“She’s still the mother of your child, you know.”
“Please don’t remind me.”
“What about Lisette? Does she have a say in all this?”
Charles grinned. “Lisette and I have already started the needed exercises to get this ball moving.”
“She doesn’t mind that the world will think her children belong to another woman?”
Charles shrugged. “Pretend you’re Lisette Duchene for a moment, Colin. I know you’ve got a twig and berries under your skirt somewhere, but just go with me. Lisette came from nothing. Sure, we pay her a handsome salary, but imagine if she was the mistress of that same house paying her… if she had more rights than the actual mistress, more freedom, more money, more love. Now imagine she could do it without tying herself down to marriage. Isn’t that what women want nowadays anyway? All that feminist women’s lib bullshit, about being independent women who don’t need no man, or whatever?”
Colin shook his head. “I don’t understand why you just don’t divorce Cordelia, though. Be with Lisette if that’s what you want, and do it as a free man. You hold all the cards here. Cordelia’s the one who needs you.”
Charles paused behind his chair. He dropped his hands onto the cool leather and leaned in. “I’ve invested a year into this bitch. A year, Colin. I gave up my happiness for her. The least she can do is be a public face for my happy family. And she can do it from the comfort of her own place in New Orleans, and leave me and mine alone.” He paused. “My mother dealt with a lot of horrible gossip, a poor woman marrying a rich man. She struggled all our lives with it. Lisette and I can have our family without subjecting her to society’s bullshit.”
“And Nicolas?”
Charles scoffed. “Nicolas is my son. Mine. If Cordelia wanted a kid, she wouldn’t have done what she did. Giving birth to him was living up to her end of a bargain we made. That’s all he is to her. And you know what? I say, good. Lisette is already a better mother in the weeks Nicolas has been in our lives than Cordelia will manage to be in whatever remains of her miserable life. My son won’t grow up fatherless, like I did.”
“But motherless is okay?”
Charles tapped the leather with his fist. “He won’t be motherless. He’ll have Lisette.”
Colin sighed, a sound Charles would always equate with his own failure in some way. He had the powerful urge to tell him what Catherine tasted like after she’d come. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“If you’re not up to this, I’ll ask your dad. Or one of the other cookie-cutter suit-and-tie Sullivans running around the office.”
“Cordelia will agree?”
“Her back is in a corner, Colin. She played the one single hand she had, and now there’s no going back. She’s not as smart as she thinks she is.”
Colin scribbled something in his leather notebook. “I just hope you don’t live to regret this, Charles.”
“Regret is my only constant. She’s a fickle cunt, but she’s always there for me.”
“I can have everything drawn up by the weekend.” Colin set his fountain pen neatly to the side. “I’ll have paperwork for Lisette, too.”
“Lisette? Why?”
“Huck, I know when you’re enamored with someone you don’t always see clearly.”
“The fuck I don’t.”
“But no one in the firm is going to do this without Lisette also being legally bound to keep this secret. No one knows a thing about her.” Colin leaned in. “I mean it. I had her investigated when you hired her.”
“You what?”
“Standard procedure,” Colin explained. “Any time the Deschanels hire someone, the check is compulsory. I did it long before I knew you wanted her to handle the, er, more serious job of bearing your children.”
“I see.”
“I should hope so, because you’re leading this family, and it will be up to you to teach your son to do the same.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Anyway,” Colin said. “You may love this girl, but you’re not some average guy from around the way. You’re Charles August Deschanel, fifth descended from the Charles who established the New Orleans Deschanel family and set you on the path for wealth that’s hard to accurately calculate, it grows so fast. Anyone who bears your children has to know they are not bearing the children of the same said average guy. Lisette will sign documentation promising to maintain the secret as long as you choose to keep it as such, and she will sign a document promising never to take any children of yours without your consent, or to ever attempt a grab at custody. We’ll take special care to detail any other instances that might need spelled out in the documentation, but this isn’t optional. You might think I’m rigid and difficult, but I’m protecting you.”
There was no end to Colin’s ego, but he hadn’t come here for advice. Augustus had provided this already, and once again, had surprised Charles with how much insight his straight-laced brother actually possessed.
You have your heir. No one can question that. What you do from here on out is a matter of your own happiness now. You did your job. Now do what you want.
“Fine.”
“Fine? Not going to argue with me?”
Charles exhaled as he shrugged. “What’s the point? Legalese is your specialty. Women are mine. You stick to what you do best, and I’ll stick to what I do best.”
Colin chuckled, looking at him as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to take him seriously. “Okay. Give me a few days. Once everything is signed, you’re free to do as you please.”
Charles smiled. “I’m several steps ahead of you, my friend.”