Chapter 11: The Last Conversation
Faye filed the separation papers that afternoon.
She sat at the desk in the guest room with Petra's associate across from her, signed where she was told to sign, and initialed where she was told to initial, and when it was done she set the pen down and looked at the stack of papers for a moment before sliding them across the desk.
"How long?" she said.
"The process takes several months," the associate said.
"Given the circumstances, we can move efficiently."
"And the property?"
"The jointly held property is protected under the amended will provision.
You retain your interest regardless of the outcome of the separation."
Faye nodded.
She looked out the window.
Marco knocked on the open door.
The associate gathered the papers and excused herself, and Marco came in and sat in the chair she had left.
He didn't say anything immediately.
He looked at Faye looking out the window.
"Are you all right?" he said finally.
"I don't know yet." She turned from the window.
"I think I will be.
I just don't know when."
"That's honest."
"I'm trying to be honest about things." She looked at him.
"I need to ask you something."
"All right."
"Last night — when Alaric told you.
Before you came here.
What was your first thought?"
Marco was quiet for a moment.
"That I should have found a way to reach you sooner."
"And your second?"
"That I was afraid." He said it plainly.
"I've never—" He stopped.
Started again.
"I've built things.
Businesses.
Contracts.
I know how to build things.
I don't know how to do this."
"Neither do I," Faye said.
"I've never done this either."
"We're starting from the same place, then."
"We're starting from a very strange place," she said.
"With a great deal of other people's decisions already made around us."
"Yes." He looked at his hands.
"I'm not going to pretend I know what the right shape of this is.
I don't.
But I want to be present.
For the baby.
For whatever that looks like." He looked up.
"For you, if you'll allow it.
At whatever pace makes sense."
Faye looked at him for a long moment.
"I'm not ready for anything," she said.
"I want to be clear about that."
"I understand."
"But I'm also not—" She paused.
"I'm not opposed to finding out who you are.
Slowly.
Carefully."
Marco nodded.
He didn't push it further.
That restraint, she thought, was probably the most important thing he had done since walking through the door the night before.
"There's something else," she said.
"Tell me."
"Bastian is at the auditor's office.
He's trying to negotiate." She watched Marco's face.
"Alaric says the referral has already been made.
But Bastian is still there, still talking.
And I know him well enough to know that he doesn't stay in a room unless he thinks there's still a deal to be made."
"What kind of deal could he possibly—"
"I don't know." Faye looked at the desk.
At the empty space where the papers had been.
"But I know he called me this morning to find out what I knew.
And I know he went to the auditor before he went anywhere else.
And I know that when Bastian is cornered, he doesn't give up — he finds the one piece of information that still has value and he uses it."
Marco was very still.
"What information does he have," he said slowly, "that he hasn't used yet?"
Faye looked at him.
"That's what I've been sitting here trying to figure out," she said.
Her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
She answered it.
"Faye." Bastian's voice.
Calm, careful, controlled.
"Don't hang up."
She didn't hang up.
"I have something," he said.
"Something that changes the picture.
Something my father doesn't know I have." A pause.
"Meet me.
One hour.
Just you.
And I'll tell you everything."
Faye looked at Marco.
Marco shook his head once — small, clear.
May you like
Faye looked at the window.
"Where?" she said.
