Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  “So is that the real problem? Is he a womanizer?”

  I scrunch my face up in protest. “No, he's not a womanizer. I haven't even seen him with a woman since he's been home.”

  “Really? Sounds like someone else is pining away...”

  “No, no, no, no. When we talked on the porch this morning, it was obvious that it's only a physical attraction for both of us.” At her raised eyebrow, I concede a little, “Strong attraction—we are strongly attracted to one another. His exact words were that he was really attracted to me.” She gives me a knowing glare and an even more knowing grin. “Shoot! What am I supposed to do with that? What do I even say to that?” My voice gets higher with each word.

  “Well, what did you say?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” I shake my head a little, remembering. “And when he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear...mmm...” I mentally shiver. “It's obvious that I'm in real trouble.”

  She sits back and drapes her arms across my pillows. “Yep. A lot of things are real obvious right about now.”

  Four

  An Offer I Can’t Refuse

  IT WOULD HAVE been much easier to resist my Adrian-fueled impure thoughts if he wasn't such a mass of contradictions because those very contradictions were what made him so unbelievably intriguing to me. On the one hand, he was macho and reserved. On the other, he talked to me like there wasn't anything he wouldn't ever tell me and played with the boys like he needed that as much as he needed his next breath.

  Having been a performer since a young age, he was adept at making music, partying with the guys, fending off the girls, or sometimes not fending off the girls. Just the thought of that makes me cringe. Yet, contrary to all that, he was perfectly content to spend a quiet evening at my house watching movies with the boys and me or to load us all up and go hit baseballs at the batting cages and eat tons of ice cream afterward.

  It was almost as if, despite all the things I was supposed to hold against him, he was the perfect man. In my world, the ideal man was supposed to wear suits, argue in courtrooms, and have brandy after dinner while playing a gentleman's game of cards. They didn't attend football games for fun. They didn't eat hotdogs with gusto. And they certainly didn't throw little boys around in the air and give them rides on their shoulders.

  All of that and more—that was Adrian. A mass of endearing contradictions, a direct affront to the way both he and I were reared.

  We had settled back into a nice little routine. He and the boys and I did practically everything together. Anything I needed, the boys needed, he handled it. Not only did he handle it but also relished in it. I was attached—real attached—to the way he took care of us and cared for us. Craving his presence, his wisdom I never thought to distance myself from him.

  I even started going out with him and his band more and more. Bonnie and her drummer, which is what she usually calls him, had long since been dating. They are actually really good together. I’m starting to wonder if she's realized that they had passed the point of just having a little bit of fun about fifty dates ago.

  The first night Adrian showed up with his eye-candy was the first night I started to question our little arrangement because feelings of jealousy instantly consumed me. From the second I saw his arm around her shoulders, I wanted to rip the bleach-blonde hair right out of her head. Then, she spoke to me. I realized very quickly that eye-candy about covered all that she was good for. She was completely self-absorbed and fake and vapid. Adrian had to be dating her just to date her. Yes, those are the verbs of my choosing. I don't want to consider any of their other activities. I only had to see her once; however, he started to “date” carbon copies of her every weekend thereafter. I couldn't believe that was his type. To each his own, I guess.

  After a couple of months of living this safe, enjoyable routine, you can imagine how shocking I found the next series of events.

  ****

  I'D BEEN SUMMONED to my father's office, which makes me apprehensive as the only two times he's ever asked to see me here were unwelcomed announcements and proclamations. Even though both had been while I was in college, they were firmly entrenched in my memory. The first was to tell me that my dog, Settler, had to be put down due to old age and many debilitating problems. The second, well, was to tell me to quit fooling around with Scott. The first broke my heart. The second humiliated me.

  Having no idea what to expect from my father, I dressed to the nines. My crisp linen navy blue sheath dress was topped by my pinstriped high cut, long-sleeved shrug of the same material. I had on my nude Louis Vuitton with the three-inch heels. I'd perfectly coifed my hair and my make-up was flawless; I looked beautiful and powerful but felt everything but that. Like a piece of petrified wood wondering what happenstance would come along to tote it away, I had my hands folded on my lap and sat straight up in my chair with my legs crossed at the ankles. My back is nowhere near touching the leather chair in the illustrious and legendary law offices of Hebert & Hebert.

  As I am sitting here wondering what fresh hell my father has to bestow upon me, my second-most feared father figure waltzes in and walks straight to me. I crane my neck to see him because he doesn't give me enough room to stand up. No big surprise here. I think he does it to intimidate me.

  “Ah, my favorite daughter-in-law. How are you, Celeste?” Chip Hebert asks me. I stare up at his chiseled good looks and wonder how his wife, Patrice, didn't see past all that for about the billionth time.

  “I'm good,” I respond.

  “The boys? Eating you out of house and home yet?”

  “They're doing well. And yes, eating anything that stands still long enough.” He chuckles at that and brushes a lock of hair from my shoulder. It takes everything I've got to suppress a repulsive shudder.

  “Ms. Hebert, Mr. Hebert will see you now.” Saved by my father's secretary and not for the first time.

  “Excuse me, Chip. Can't keep my father waiting,” I state. Finally, he gives me the space to stand up, and I will myself to meet his eyes as I rise. Capable of smelling fear, I'm determined not to let my dear old father-in-law sense mine.

  “Good to see you, Celeste. Will I see you in the country this weekend?”

  “Of course, see you then,” I return. As I pass Gladys, I give her a tight smile; and she gives me one decisive nod.

  Closing the double doors behind me as I enter my father's massive office, I allow my eyes to graze over the plaques, pictures, and Navy paraphernalia. My father—so decorated. As was Tripp's for that matter. This was how they met. Two Heberts far from home, almost identical Naval careers. The name Hebert was like Smith around these parts, but everywhere else it was a rarity. This was how they'd bonded and how they'd groomed their younger brothers and eventually their sons. The only one it didn't take with was Adrian's father. Oh, he'd gone through all the motions—college, law school, Jag Corps, respectable practice back home in New Orleans. However, along his path, he'd left a trail of debauchery, debt, and devious undertakings. That was not to say that Tripp's father and mine had not indulged in nefarious deeds. No, they were just quiet about it, making them all the more dangerous.

  “Celeste, thank you for coming by,” my father says. Like I had a choice, I think.

  “Of course, Daddy. How are you?” I smile brilliantly.

  “I'm doing well. Your mother has me on a new diet, though, so I'm starving,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Well, you're certainly looking fit,” I tell him.

  “How is Archer?” My father always starts with the oldest first.

  “Archer is doing well. His grades were terrific last year. Seventh grade,” I say with a disbelieving shake of my head. “He got picked up for the fall baseball league. Oh, and he's decided he wants to be a nuclear physicist.”

  My father's eyes widen at this. “No law school?”

  “I'm sure he'll come around; he's only twelve,” I say with a slight smile.

  “Paris?”

  “He's fanta
stic. Just got a new turtle, who he's dubbed Skip. Of course, no one knows quite why that is.” I smile at the thought of my nine-year-old's eccentric nature.

  “And Finn?”

  “Finn.” I chuckle a little. “Finn is great. He is bound and determined to follow in his father's footsteps. He's playing first-string quarterback in his recreational league. All boy, that one.”

  “Ah. Good, good. And how is mom doing?”

  “I'm doing well.” I briefly considered telling him about my latest news with all the photo shoots being booked at the house and my design advice being sought after but quickly decide against it. He hates talk of all that.

  “Well, that's good. I'm not going to beat around the bush, Celeste.” I brace upon hearing these words. “We've decided that it's time you brought a father figure into the boys' lives.”

  My heart beats triple time while I ponder exactly how to handle this with poise and not let myself get railroaded. “Daddy, I'm not really ready for that. I haven't met anyone I'm interested in—”

  “You don't need to meet anyone. Chip and I've decided we'd like for you to consider William.”

  “What?” I blanch. “William is married, and he's Tripp's brother. Don't you think that's a little strange? Even for us?”

  “Not at all. What do you mean ‘even for us’? There's no blood between us. Anyway, we're allowing William to divorce Vanessa since she had an affair and there are no children involved. William is your age, and he's expressed an interest.”

  I feel my face wrinkle due to the fact that I am not and have never been attracted to William in the slightest. As a matter of fact, I find him repulsive. “Daddy, I'm not marrying William,” I state.

  “Young lady, you'll do what is requested of you. Or have you forgotten your upbringing?” I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “I would appreciate it very much if you at least considered him. It would be perfect to have an Hebert rearing my grandsons and teaching them how loyalty and honor are valued in this family.”

  “I'm an Hebert, Daddy,” I remind him.

  He gives a condescending laugh at my little insistence. “A man, Celeste. A man Hebert.”

  “Of course, Daddy. Would it be too much to ask for some time to consider this request?” And to consider a way to get out of this.

  He pauses and takes me in for a moment, his gaze searching. “Not at all. It really is a request, Celeste. If you were to meet someone say in the next few weeks and show some interest, we may be able to leave it at that.” He raises his eyebrows at me slightly and reaches for a file on his desk. I’ve been dismissed.

  An about-face? My father is offering me an out. This is unheard of. Does he not want the merger either?

  I say my goodbyes to my father and his secretary. My legs are trembling as I enter the elevator and make my way across the expansive lobby to enter the parking garage, but otherwise I'm pretty sure I'm covering well. Almost there, almost there, I chant as I see my MINI in the midst of all the dark SUVs.

  When I get into my car, I take a deep breath, but it doesn't help, I immediately start bawling. If those two Heberts wanted something, nothing would stop them. It was why we had more money than God. It was why I'd married Tripp in the first place. It was how I'd had three boys. One would think that would be uncontrollable, but not so much. It was why I knew I was screwed if I didn't find interest in someone posthaste.

  ****

  I FIND MYSELF sitting outside of Bonnie's townhome. Having a few hours before I had to pick up the boys from school, I blew off all of my other errands, figuring a new, undesired betrothal was a good reason to hit up my best friend.

  Knocking on the door, I'm caught off guard by Garner. “Oh! Hey, Garner! I didn't realize you'd be here. I can come back if I'm interrupting.”

  “Nah, Celeste. It's all good, girl. Bonnie's throwing some clothes on. She'll be right down. I was just about to head out.”

  Oh, yes. They had rehearsals shortly. “Right. Well, how are things going?”

  “Good. We've been learning some new material, gearing up for our big show. It's crazy. We're about to play the House of Blues.”

  His enthusiasm is catching. “I'm so excited for y'all. I think this is going to be great for the band. You guys are going to get some offers—I just know it.”

  “I hope so. This is all I've ever wanted.” I envy his passion. I smile at him as Bonnie makes her way down to us. She's beaming as well.

  “Good afternoon,” I tell her with a raised brow. “How are you?”

  “I'm great,” she practically purrs as she places a full-fledged kiss on Garner's lips. He grabs her hips and grinds his into hers, simulating what I'm sure I just missed. Directing my eyes to the ceiling, I start mentally arranging my balcony for tomorrow's photo shoot.

  “Hey, Celeste!” Bonnie calls. “I'm walking the drummer out. I'll be right back.”

  “OK. Sure thing. Bye, Garner. Good to see you!”

  “Yep, you—” he tries to say goodbye as Bonnie playfully bites his neck while directing him to the front door. I chuckle at their fervor for each other. I'm ecstatic to finally see it being reciprocated for Bonnie's sake. Her ex-husband was one cold fish. I make myself comfortable by slipping off my shoes, making myself a glass of iced tea, and curling up on her sofa with my iPhone and my design app.

  I hear the door slam, and I lock my phone, placing it on the coffee table. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day, Celeste? What's wrong?”

  “It's bad,” I tell her.

  “What do those asswads want this time?” I blink real slow and grin.

  “How'd you know?”

  “There are only two people who can upset you this much.”

  “And I thought I was hiding it so well.”

  “No way, babe. Spill!”

  I recount my conversation with the Fathers Hebert. She seethes and shakes her head almost the whole time. I get more and more animated as I go, talking with my hands, pacing the room. When I stop, she just asks, “What the hell are you gonna do?”

  “I don't know. I'm...I'm—”

  “Good Lord, Celeste, if there was ever a time to say the fucking f word, it's now.”

  “I'm fucked.” I say stoically. “I'm so fucked!” I shriek.

  “Thank God!”

  Chuckling, I ask, “Don't you think it's a little odd to thank God for my saying the f word?”

  “Nope, not at all. It helps a lot. And you need a lotta help.”

  “I know, I know,” I say as I stop to stand in front of her French doors, crossing my arms over my middle.

  “Can you just tell them no for once? Put your foot down?”

  “Not only will they trample all over my foot. They'll trample all over my whole life. My boys' lives. I've watched them do it, Bon. It's gruesome.”

  “Geez. It's like they're some kinda corporate mafi—”

  I spin and pin her with a look. “Right, we don't say that word. Sorry,” she mutters petulantly. They are exactly that, which is why we don't say it. Silent tears start to make their way down my cheeks. I didn't want to cry again, but I really was at a loss.

  “Oh, baby girl,” she coos. “We'll figure something out. You've got plenty of money, right? You're not dependent on them in that way.”

  “The money is the least of my issues, but, yes, I do have plenty of it in my own right.”

  “I have the perfect solution. I know who you can marry, and,” she says stretching out the word ‘and,’ “you're in love with him already.”

  “Not this again,” I mutter as I rest my head in both my hands.

  “I've been watching you two. Y'all have it so bad for each other.”

  “OK,” I slap my knees with force, wincing. “This conversation just ceased being helpful. I have a few things to do before going to get the boys, so I'll see you later.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “You're an idiot, ma belle amie.”

  “Yes, I know. You know how I know? ‘Cause you've told me about
a billion times over the past couple of months,” I state acerbically.

  “Oh, oh! So touchy. Me thinks thou protests too much.” She has the audacity to giggle at me.

  I quirk my eyebrow at her and look down my nose at her as I calmly state, “Me thinks you forget who I'm related to. It's there under this calm façade. Don't push me,” I warn her.

  She throws her hands up in mock protest, “Oh, yes, ma'am. Princess of the maf—” She cuts herself off at my look. “I'm done,” she concedes.

  Five

  My World Shifts

  THE BOYS AND I arrive home after guitar lessons, MMA lessons, and French lessons— Archer, Paris, and Finn respectively. I'm utterly spent, but I paste a smile on my face because Adrian is here with pizza and a movie. It's my favorite day of the week. Well, it was until the Disastrous Duo struck.

  “Hey, Adrian!” Finn shouts as we clear the door.

  “What's up, Adrian,” Archer gives him a chin lift as he makes his way to feed the dogs.

  “Hi, Adrian,” Paris mutters before going to check on Skip.

  “Finn, he's four feet away, son,” I half-heartedly chastise him, getting exactly why he's so excited—Adrian's just awesome like that.

  “Hey, bud,” Adrian returns with a fist bump. “How was school?”

  “Sucked,” Finn replies flippantly.

  “Really, Finn,” I try. “We've talked about this word. I loathe this word.”

  “I know, Mom.” He scrambles onto a barstool and slaps himself on both cheeks, resting his head in his palms. “But everybody says it.”

  I open my mouth to give him the-everybody-does-it-so-does-that-mean-you-have-to do-it-too speech, but Adrian puts his finger up, motioning for me to let him give it a shot.

  “All right, bud.” Adrian leans across the bar on his elbows, and it takes the willpower of a hundred nuns not to check out his nice, tight butt. I'm thoroughly impressed with myself and my ability to resist—for the most part. “So here's how it goes—girls don't like ugly words like that. It makes you look like a jerk when you say those things in front of them. Girls like gentlemen. Do you hear me say those kinda words in front of your mom?”