Man of the House

by Abigail Graham

  "That's right, Reggie."

  He eyes the two men standing on either side of me, and his eyes widen. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly in his skinny neck. He tugs on his rust-colored uniform jacket and motions us forward. "Go ahead. I'll give him a buzz and let him know you're coming."

  I step into the elevator and take Aiden's hand. The prince crosses his big arms, towering like a statue. I edge closer to Aiden and rest my head on his shoulder.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispers.

  I nod. "I'm sure."

  Looking at Aiden, I wonder how he was able to stand my father for all these years. They’re polar opposites. Dad lives to enrich himself, Aiden, to enrich the world.

  His nurse opens the door for us. I enter first, Aiden close behind me. She swings the door shut, leaving us in soaking gloom. The only light is from the tall windows on the far side of the room. The place is appointed richly in an Olde World style.

  My father is waiting in his wheelchair in front of the long tufted leather sofa, beetly eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stares at the cold fireplace.

  "So you're here," he mutters. "Took you long enough."

  The chair turns in place, jerking wildly as he moves it to face us and glides forward. I feel a pang of something, I don't know, maybe pity. He must weigh less than a hundred pounds now. He was already almost seventy when I was born. Sheer vicious tenacity keeps him hanging on.

  I take a step forward, glaring down my nose at him. "I know what you did."

  "Do you, now?" he says. "Enlighten me, poppet."

  "Don't call me that. You paid off Aiden's executive assistant to slip malware into the self-driving prototype so it would go haywire and kill him."

  He looks up—only with his eyes, lacking the strength to properly crane his head back.

  "You're accusing me of conspiracy and attempted murder."

  "Also breaking a dozen financial laws. Maybe even terrorism or something. Not to mention that you almost killed me, too, and Aiden's children."

  He turns the chair around and leans his head to the side. "I am so terribly tired," he says.

  "Is that all you have to say?" I demand.

  He sighs, a sound not far from a death rattle. "I never meant for you to be hurt. You're my only legacy in this world."

  "Is this all about revenge? You can't stand me being in a relationship with your friend?"

  He turns the chair back. "You naive idiots," he rasps, his voice like fingers rustling parchment paper. "You think you have some idea what this is about, but you don't, you don't. There are larger parties in play here. Even I have superiors. They grew impatient. I promised I'd steer their investment toward their stated goals."

  "Weapons," Aiden blurts out, storming forward. "I will not be party to making weapons, old man. You will not pervert my creations to kill people."

  "Peace," Father rasps, weakly raising his hand. "I know you won't. You already moved to check me, didn't you?"

  The prince steps forward. "That is why I am here."

  "Good, good, just as I planned. Is this the part where I tear off my rubber mask and reveal my sinister plan and that I was Old Mister Hedwyg all along?"

  I gape at him.

  "Yes," he mutters, "I watched a cartoon."

  An uneasy silence hangs over the room.

  "We're going to the authorities with the evidence."

  "I know," he says. "Did you think I'd leave such a sloppy trail if I meant for this to actually work? I practically drew you a map. I know all about your little friends breaking into my office, Aiden. They're not as good as you think they are."

  "We have what we need to put the authorities on you."

  "I know. I'll most likely die in prison. My daughter, publicly alienated, hates my guts. All as I planned."

  Aiden looks at me, confused. I stare at my father. "What? You're telling me you wanted this?"

  "I sent you to the one man I knew was absolutely trustworthy. I wasn't quite sure I planned on a romantic entanglement between the two of you, but I'm not averse to it. I've placed my holdings into irrevocable trusts that will pass to you, Delilah. Including my Byrne stock. Between the two of you that forms a controlling interest. I delayed this as long as I could. Once I'm imprisoned and disgraced, this will all be seen as my failure, and they won't come after you."

  "Come after me?" I say, softly, ice churning in my belly. "‘They’ who?"

  "The less you know, the better," he says. He looks at Aiden.

  "Watch over her. Keep her safe. Can you do that?"

  Aiden bristles. "You say that to me after you almost killed us?"

  "It had to be appear genuine. I knew you'd pull it out somehow. You always do. Are you going to have me arrested now?"

  I stare at him, open-mouthed.

  "Yes, we are," I announce. "Let's go."

  Aiden

  I didn't want to leave New York so early, but I can sense Lilah doesn't want to stay here, and I'd rather be fully back on my feet before any museum tours. I decided to bypass Philadelphia entirely and return here.

  Gloria waits for us next to her Range Rover, holding her broad hat down against the rising winds. "I was wondering when you'd get here," she says as I limp out of the car.

  "I'm sure you have important nothing to do," Lilah says, smirking.

  "Don't think you can take a tone with me, you little gold-digger."

  Aiden snaps, "Gold-digger? You won’t take that tone with her, Gloria. I give you a lot of slack, but you’re at the end of your rope. I don’t have to support you.”

  Gloria scowls. "You're here, I'm done babysitting. The boys are all yours."

  She climbs into her overpriced car and drives off, throwing up a column of dust behind her. Lilah runs ahead to the house as my children run out to greet her, hugging her like an old friend. Jason waits for me, watching carefully as I lean on the railing to work my way up the stairs.

  The only television in the house is tuned to a financial news channel. I watch for a moment—Roland's arrest is dominating the airwaves. Then I click it off and sink back into the couch, sighing.

  Lilah curls up next to me.

  My head flops back, and I yawn.

  "Jason, go throw some logs on the firepit. We'll roast up some hot dogs tonight and make s'mores."

  Lilah makes an annoyed noise. "You're going to make me fat."

  My grin widens. "I doubt that."

  "My metabolism is going to slow down now that I have to lay off the coffee."

  "I somehow doubt that. So what are you going to do now?"

  She rolls away to lean straight back into the couch and puts her feet up on the table, wriggling her toes.

  "I don't even know. I've had someone controlling every little aspect of my life for so long that I don't even know what to do."

  "I think you should do whatever you want. What's the point of being an heiress if you can't?"

  She chews her lip. "What if what I want is boring?"

  "Tell me about it."

  "I think I want to teach. College level, I think. I don't think I have the temperament for teaching kids."

  "Why do you say that?"

  She shrugs. "I don't know. I'm just picturing a whole classroom full of your sons, and I just shudder. No offense. Too many hormones."

  I laugh, slipping my good arm around her.

  "I'm going to go back to school. Confirm my change of major. Study. Professorship. It's going to take up a lot of time but… Oh, God, I forgot. We have to plan a wedding. We're going to have to figure out a way to fill out the bride's side of the church. I don't think I'll have many people coming."

  "I'll hire a wedding planner. I don't figure on having many guests, either. I may know royalty, but I'm no prince. I'd rather have a small ceremony somewhere that means something to us. I think we should go abroad. What about Italy? France? Let it blend into a long, relaxed honeymoon."

  "Fine with me. I need to see the world. Then what?"

>   "I've been talking about this with the others for a while now. We run a successful test of the car to prove it works now that the sabotage has been unveiled, and when the project is back on track, I do what I always meant to do. I retire. I'm thinking of hanging a shingle."

  "You want to be a roofer?"

  I laugh. "No. I mean go do what I always wanted to do. Simple country doctor. Maybe I'll practice wherever you get your professorship."

  "Simple and quiet life," she says, pillowing her head on my chest. "That sounds good to me."

  "We'll see," I say.

  Lilah

  Aiden flexes his hand and shakes it vigorously, testing his wrist. He's had the cast off for six weeks, and he keeps complaining that his arm feels weak. The warm breeze rolls in off the water, carrying the salty smell of the Pacific. We decided to save the European tour for the honeymoon and headed for California instead.

  We have a whole house to ourselves, gripping a high overlook with a private beach below. I sometimes find myself a little uncomfortable with this kind of ostentation, but I remind myself that Aiden likes to pamper me.

  I lean on the balcony rail beside him and watch the sun set over the sea. Gold pools on the surface of the ocean, gathering in the troughs of waves before it disappears again as molten silver crashes over the white sand beach. The air is cooler at night but still hot. I like it and the way it makes me feel when it rolls through all the open windows.

  We're getting married in the morning. The boys have their own rooms down on the first floor, and we've occupied the master suite with its balcony. The kids will be staying behind while we're on our honeymoon, visiting with their aunt.

  I'm itching for the chance to wear something a little more racy. I've been padding around all day in shorts over a one-piece, and my newly procured collection of bikinis goes unworn, many still bearing tags. I have no idea what European beaches are like, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

  Aiden glances at his hand, then at mine. I'm wearing my engagement ring. I insisted on no diamonds, and Aiden came through with something much more wonderful. He set up a whole machine shop and forged our engagement rings and wedding bands himself, working them by hand. My engagement ring is made of twisted bands of gold, copper, and silver.

  He reaches over and toys with the strap holding up my bathing suit.

  "Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?"

  He smirks. "I don't think there's all that much I haven't seen yet."

  I giggle. "No, I don't think there's anything left."

  He turns and pulls me against him. I fall against his bare chest and nuzzle into him, pressed tight, and watch the sun sink below the horizon.

  "Are you excited?" he asks, guiding me back into the bedroom.

  "Yes. Nervous. Afraid I'll flub my lines."

  "We could always skip over to Vegas and get married by Elvis."

  I give him a look.

  He's not joking, you know.

  "No, the king has other duties to attend to. Let's just get some sleep."

  "Sleep? It's barely nine o'clock."

  "Jet lag." I shrug. "I'm exhausted. Your kids keep running me ragged."

  "They're just wondering when they're going to get a little brother."

  He rests his hand on my stomach, and I swallow.

  I'm late. I haven't said anything yet. I know he wants a child with me, but I want to save it for after the honeymoon. I'm not going to start showing in two weeks. In any case I'm not a hundred percent sure yet.

  Rationally, anyway. Some tingling part of my brain knows that I'm going to have a child. If I'm not, it isn't for lack of trying. A cast and a bruise on his leg didn't stop Aiden and I enjoying ourselves quite vigorously. I think the last three nights are the longest break we've had since we came back from New York.

  He settles into the bed next to me, and we pull out our laptops. The work never stops, at least not yet. I've incrementally gotten more and more involved in helping him run the company remotely ever since we left Pennsylvania.

  He keeps glancing at me every once in a while. He slips his hand under the blanket and goes to peel down my underwear. I smack his wrist and smirk.

  "You're going to pay for that," he says, cheerily.

  "Oh, I hope so."

  My eyes are bleary. I shove the computer aside and flop down in the bed. Aiden rolls onto his side next to me and kisses my cheek, throwing one arm over my body as he does every night. Once we're properly in bed he never stops touching me unless I wake in the night, as if he's afraid I'll disappear.

  When I wake the next morning in the sun, I'm bleary-eyed and yawny but filled with nervous excitement. The clock reads 6:43. I slip out of the bed, gently lifting Aiden's hand from my hip, and walk over to the balcony to drink in some sun and wake myself up.

  My stomach swirls, and my limbs tremble.

  Aiden rises not five minutes later, yawning. I can't tear my eyes off his body as he pushes his arms back over his head, every corded muscle tensing at once.

  "I'm going to go get ready," he announces.

  That leaves me alone for a while.

  Our ceremony will be a little unorthodox. I don't want the royalty treatment, no spectacle. I don't think I could handle being the center of attention that long, and I don't want to parade myself around in front of eager strangers. This should be family.

  That means just us, on the patio below for a morning wedding. Me, Aiden, the pastor, the boys, and a pair of witnesses.

  I'm to dress in a simple white gown, no veil. I run my hands over it before I head for the shower.

  While I bathe and put on my makeup and fuss with my hair, I wonder if Aiden is going to equal effort. All he really has to do is put on a tux to look perfectly elegant, but I insisted that if I don't go all out he doesn't either. We're dressing for the weather.

  I should have insisted on lunch or something. On the other hand, I would throw up if I ate anything. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I'm certainly not hesitating—if anything I want to skip past this part and just be his wife. It's my nerves. The ceremony of it.

  When I descend the stairs, Jason steps up and offers me his arm. I swear Aiden’s elder son has grown half a foot since I met him. He's going to give me away, taking the place of my imprisoned father. He's almost as tall as I am now.

  He leads me out, and the way Aiden reacts when he sees me is startling. It's like he's genuinely never seen me before, and he's floored by my surpassing loveliness, or something poetic like that. I step up, and he takes my hand, leading me up the patio steps to the terrace where the pastor is waiting under an arch woven with white roses.

  "You look lovely. You ready?" Aiden says.

  I nod, and turn to face Aiden.

  It's over fast. We say our quick, simple vows, and Aiden slips a second ring on my third finger of my left hand. I do the same for him, and that's it.

  I'm Delilah Byrne now, and I genuinely feel different.

  Our kiss goes on a little long. The pastor clears his throat. "I now proclaim thee man and wife. Don't you have a plane to catch?"

  Aiden laughs. "As soon as my…ex sister-in-law gets here."

  Gloria is late by more than twenty minutes, not that it matters. One of the virtues of being taken care of is that one is never truly late for anything.

  He owns the plane, so that's got to count for something.

  When she arrives, Gloria asks, without looking at me, "Is it done?"

  "Yes, we're married now," Aiden says, taking my hand. "Gloria, we talked about this."

  Her expression is neutral beneath a broad-brimmed straw hat and big, goggly sunglasses.

  "I'm not going to tell you I approve, but Grace would be happy for you, for whatever that's worth. Thanks for letting me stay here."

  "Just keep an eye on Jason. I think he's starting to notice girls."

  "Oh, dear God," Gloria mutters, storming past him.

  That leaves us alone outside. Aiden nods at the bouquet I'm still
carrying. "Going to hold on to that?"

  "I could throw it at Gloria." I laugh.

  "I have a surprise. Come on."

  "Don't we have to get to the airport?"

  "Of course we do. We're taking a shortcut. This way."

  He leads me down to the garage and motions me into the car. Nervous, I keep my eyes on him as he starts driving in the wrong direction, inland.

  "Where are we going?"

  "I'll show you."

  After twenty minutes, he pulls off toward a large, squat building that looks like a giant garage, on a dusty…

  Oh, God, it's an airfield. What is he going to do to me?

  "You ready?" he says, pulling me out of the car. "Hold on to that bouquet."

  I glare at him as he takes me by the hand to the doors. They roll up with a heavy rumble, revealing…

  A strange mixture of antiquated and sleek, in the form of a black biplane. A ground crew gathers up behind the wings and pushes it out of the hangar, around onto the dusty airfield.

  Aiden hands me a helmet and a pair of goggles, holding the bouquet while I strap it all on my head. I scowl at him, suppressing a grin that makes my cheeks ache.

  "Take the bouqet," he says. "Hold it down between your legs until we get some altitude."

  Aiden steadies me as I ascend a short wooden stepladder and sink into the seat. The front seat.

  "Passenger sits up front," he says. "Let me strap you in."

  Once I'm secured, he sits behind me, and a member of the crew throws the propeller around. Once it starts it's loud as hell, rattling my teeth. Aiden taxies around to straighten us out and opens up the throttle. The snarly engine’s rattle grows into a dull roar, and the wind catches surprisingly fast.

  I cry out as the wings pop and shudder, wiggling a little against the plane as they gain enough lift. The acceleration and ascent come sharply, leaving my stomach to catch up. I sink down in the seat as the plane noses up into pure blue sky, no sign of the ground.

  As he levels out, I look around over houses and fields.

  "Let 'er rip," Aiden bellows. "Bombs away!"

  Laughing, I thrust my bouquet up in the air, over the wing. The wind catches the flowers, scattering them free. I open my hand and let it all go, raining flowers down on the world below.