“Fuck,” Hamilton cursed. He looked angry as he glared over my shoulder and across the room.
“What?” I asked while following his gaze. There, by the front door, stood… “Jack?”
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Hamilton growled.
Jack was standing alone by the front door, wearing a suit. He had his hands in his pockets and a nostalgic but anguished look on his face. The hostess smiled warmly at him and sat him at a corner booth by a window immediately. Hamilton watched as he sat down at a table across the restaurant from us. The waiter took away the other place setting, indicating that Jack was eating by himself.
A wave of sadness washed over me. Jack was absolutely a man tied to his responsibilities and status. I still wasn’t thrilled that he’d researched my family so thoroughly, even though I realized now that it was a necessity. My mother had lied to the Beauregards. Maybe Jack wasn’t intrusively crass after all, he’d just been conditioned to always be on the defense with his family because there were people constantly looking to take advantage of them. I’d only been in the family for a little while, and I had already been hounded and used.
But at the end of the day, I felt a sense of loyalty to Hamilton that spanned farther than just our relationship. He was deeply hurting. The loss of his mother affected him in ways I was still learning how to process. There was a reason he resented Jack so much. I was piecing it together and learning the road map that led to his bitterness toward his family. I just wanted to know what it was. I felt like understanding the dynamic with Jack would help me understand Hamilton.
“He has no right to be here,” Hamilton gritted. He was clutching his wine glass with a death-like grip, his knuckles white as he stared across the restaurant. “This was Mom’s place. This was the one place where she was fucking happy. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t get to fucking ruin this for me too.”
Hamilton stood up, and I quickly followed after him. Storming across the restaurant, Hamilton walked right up to Jack and slammed his fist on the tabletop. A few people gasped. I jumped and quickly thought of ways I could diffuse the situation. Hamilton had been on edge all day, and this felt like meeting his boiling point. “Hamilton!” Jack said while clutching his fist. “Did you get my invite? I wasn’t expecting you to show up.”
Jack had invited Hamilton?
Jack looked around the room nervously, as if expecting a scene. “I can have the waiter bring up a chair for you? Vera, I’m so glad to see you here too. Your mother has been calling me about the two of you.”
“I don’t want to fucking sit with you,” Hamilton spat. “I blocked your number ages ago so I wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit.” I touched Hamilton’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.
“Let’s not do this here, okay?” Jack said, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
“What? You don’t want me to cause a scene, Jack? You don’t want everyone to know how shitty of a husband you were—how shitty of a father?”
Jack cleared his throat and stood up. “You have every right to feel the way you feel right now. But this place is sacred. Let’s not ruin it—”
“It’s already ruined!” Hamilton yelled. “It was ruined when you cheated on Mom and forced her to raise me. It was ruined when she would sneak off to the bathroom before dessert to pop pills. It was ruined when she died, Jack.”
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the hostess said while approaching us. The entire restaurant was watching the exchange. The pain rippling throughout Hamilton’s flexed muscles could be felt throughout the room.
“Hamilton. Let’s go. Let’s talk about this, please,” Jack pleaded while reaching for his son.
“No. Fuck you. Fuck this place. Fuck everything. I hope you spend the rest of your miserable life with your miserable son. I hope you come here every year and think about the woman you ruined. I hope you think about me, too. How you blamed me… How you killed her!”
Wait…what? Jack killed his wife?
I grabbed Hamilton, this time my grip unyielding. The beautiful, strong man I was falling for broke at my touch. I pulled him in for a hug. It was like watching ice caps melt. He slowly softened. His hand rubbed my back. I lifted up on my toes and kissed his jaw. “Let’s go home, Hamilton,” I whispered. “Please.”
When I pulled back from the hug, Jack was crying. He clutched a handkerchief to his face and stared at the ground, like it would swallow him up.
“Let’s go,” Hamilton whispered before threading his fingers through mine and pulling me through the restaurant. I looked over my shoulder at Jack just before disappearing through the front door, and to my surprise, his eyes were trained on me. I couldn’t quite place the emotion bleeding through his gaze. Curiosity? Pain? Determination?
Something told me I’d learn soon.
23
The car ride home was stiff and silent. I stared out the window, watching the passing cars and lit up buildings while feeling uncertain how to help Hamilton. He was at a breaking point. How could someone that seemed so strong, so sure of himself, crumble so easily? Everything changed so quickly. His mother’s death had a twisted hold on him. His family’s legacy ruined him. I had so many questions about the relationship with his father and the accusations he screamed in the crowded restaurant.
You killed her!
I knew that Hamilton’s mother was depressed because of her cheating husband. I wasn’t sure if the overdose was an accident or not, but I knew that sometimes when people hurt, they liked to escape the heaviness of their thoughts. I understood why, in Hamilton’s grief-stricken mind, he would
