Chapter 11: What Am I to You?

With seven minutes left, Richard finally asks, “Your grandparents… are they well?”

“They’re doing well. They’re in France too.”

His head lifts sharply. “They left?”

“We couldn’t leave them here alone. Mom found them a place near ours.”

Richard’s mouth trembles. “Do they still hate me?”

After his arrest, his father landed in the hospital and declared he no longer had a son.

Richard’s letters have gone unanswered for years; he has seen his parents only in photographs Catherine sends.

“They won’t talk about you,” Rosalie says. “But Grandma still reminds Mom what you like and tells her to put more money in your account.”

Richard bows his head. His shoulders shake once.

“How are they?”

“Grandpa’s legs trouble him, but he still walks every day. Grandma is stronger, and Mom looks after them. They haven’t suffered, Dad.”

“How can I not blame myself?” Tears escape despite his efforts. “If it weren’t for me, Peter might still be alive. None of you would have had to rebuild your lives across an ocean.”

The timer turns red. Three minutes.

“I thought the company would recover and I could replace what I took. I was wrong. I destroyed Peter and my own family.”

Rosalie presses her palm to the glass. “Dad, it’s over.”

“Take care of yourself, Rosie.”

“You too.”

Richard follows the officer toward the steel door, then looks back. Rosalie is smiling through tears, her palm against the glass.

“Four more months,” she mouths. “Mom and I will bring you home.”

He cannot hear her, but he understands.

He nods as the timer reaches zero.

---

Three days later, Adrian attends the final morning prayer of his retreat at St. Gabriel’s Abbey.

Three candles burn in the chapel—for his father, his mother, and the child he never named.

Near noon, he drives to the cemetery where his parents are buried.

Carrying flowers and a bottle of single malt, he stops on the path.

Someone is already at the graves.

Rosalie kneels before the headstones in a black coat, her blonde hair tied loosely back. She wipes carefully around the engraved names.

Adrian watches until she finishes.

When his footsteps finally reach her, Rosalie turns.

Surprise flashes across her face before she reminds herself that he has every reason to be here.

The bottle beside his father’s grave is the same single malt Adrian brought.

He opens both and pours a measure from each into the earth.

“Two drinks this year, Dad. Try not to get drunk. Mom will never let you hear the end of it.”

Rosalie’s eyes sting.

She lays white roses at Helen Mercer’s grave. “My mother said these were your favorite.”

Adrian places a small tin of Earl Grey beside them. “She loved this too.”

They stand together without speaking.

By the time they leave, a light rain has begun. It grows heavier on the walk to the parking lot, dampening Rosalie’s shoulders.

Adrian opens the passenger door and waits until she is inside before taking the driver’s seat.

He does not start the car.

Rain blurs the windshield.

For three days, Adrian told himself to accept whatever Rosalie offered.

She came back. That should be enough.

It isn’t.

“Marry me.”

Rosalie stops drying her coat. “Adrian, you know I won’t.”

He turns toward her, the hope in his blue eyes fading. “I don’t know that. We were supposed to marry five years ago.”

“Did you truly plan to marry me?” Her voice remains level. “You already used our engagement once.”

His breath catches. “I used the party to keep your father from leaving before the police arrived. But wanting you as my wife was real. From the day we chose each other, there was never anyone else.”

“I like my life now,” Rosalie interrupts.

The calmness of it makes her sound like a stranger.

“The life without me?”

She turns away from the pain on his face. “Can we stop? I’ve only just come back.”

“Everything you’ve done says you still want me, but you’ll never marry me. What exactly do you want?”

Rosalie is silent before saying, “We’re adults. Sex doesn’t have to end in marriage.”

Adrian stares at her.

“And afterward?”

“What?”

He leans closer. “After you’ve had enough of me, do you go back to France?”

She cannot meet his eyes.

Adrian laughs once, without humor. “Is this fun for you? You disappear for five years, come back, and wave me over to see if I’ll still follow.”

He braces one hand beside her, trapping her between him and the seat.

“You see me wearing your ring. You watch me change a suit to match your dress. You know two sweet words will make me forget everything. Does it make you feel powerful?”

“I never thought that.”

“But you did it.”

“What am I to you, Rosalie? A dog you left behind? Something you pet when you miss it and kick away when you’re bored?”

Her breathing turns shallow.

“You don’t have to love me,” he says. “But you can’t come back and make me believe you do.”

Rosalie pushes him away and unfastens her seat belt. “We’re both upset. We’ll talk later.”

“When is later?”

She opens the door instead of answering.

Rain soaks her. Adrian follows and catches her wrist.

“You’re leaving again?” Water streams from his black hair, his eyes raw and red. “Is running away the only thing you know how to do?”

Rosalie pulls free.

She never meant to hurt him.

Her family had already hurt the Mercers enough.

That is why she has to stop.

She steps back, forcing herself not to look into his eyes.

“Adrian, we ended five years ago.”

Another step puts the rain between them.

“Let’s leave it there.”