The simplicity of chatting, giggling, and sharing delighted Claire. Sometime during their conversation she thought she heard voices, loud voices coming from the direction of Tony’s office. Courtney heard them too. They shrugged and went on with their chat. Courtney told Claire that she would be willing to help her in any way. She would be glad to taste-test food or desserts, listen to music, tie bows for chairs, address invitations, whatever Claire needed. She was officially at her disposal.
The men returned to the sitting room. Their disposition not as jovial as the ladies; however, they acted affable. Courtney finally asked, “Is everything all right?” Tony said it was and Brent agreed. The ladies were having too much fun to let the men change that.
Courtney continued to ask about the wedding. Would it really be in three weeks? Did they like the coordinator and planner? When Tony wasn’t around she wanted the scoop on Claire’s dress. Then she told Tony about her offer to help Claire. She was so excited. They left about two hours after they arrived.
Claire started to go upstairs to her suite when she remembered Patricia. Had she left? Tony said she had when Brent got there. She took information home and she would bring him a guest list to evaluate Monday at the office.
“Can we please eat in my suite? It has been a great day, and I’m tired.” During dinner Tony told Claire that he and Brent had exchanged words during the afternoon. Brent was Tony’s head legal counsel and his best friend, Claire was surprised. What happened? He explained that Brent borrowed a page from her brother-in-law. Claire sighed. “The prenuptial agreement again.” He said yes, Brent had also insisted that they have one. Claire agreed. “I don’t presume to know anything about your belongings, but if everyone thinks we should have one let’s just do it.”
She hadn’t realized that the conversation had become intense, but before she could blink he lifted her from her chair. His tone immediately harsh and his proximity too close. “I am sick and tired of everyone telling me what to do. I have made my decision. That is what I told Brent and what I am telling you. There will not be a prenuptial agreement, and do you know why?”
She met his eyes with hers. “Tony, please, you said you wouldn’t hurt me again.” He released her arms and she fell back to her chair.
“And you promised to not give me cause.”
She thought about his question she hadn’t answered yet. Not answering could be considered cause. “I don’t know why we shouldn’t have a prenuptial agreement, other than you don’t want one.”
“That is part of it.” He paced. Everyone questioning his judgment made him feel disrespected. “The other part is,” and he knelt by Claire, his face once again too close to hers, his eyes shining black, and stared into her eyes. She didn’t look away, “I know I won’t leave you. And I know you won’t leave me.” His voice slow and malevolent, he asked, “Will you?”
She faced one of those junctures: be frightened by his tone, proximity, and allow his sudden unpredicted change in disposition to ruin a day that she truly enjoyed, or attempt to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. She chose the second. She answered his question with a voice that sounded both calm and composed. “I agreed to be Mrs. Anthony Rawlings just three days ago. It has been a whirlwind since then, and my wedding is in three weeks. We are both overwhelmed. Tony, I would never think of leaving you.”
His eyes still flashed, blackness intensified. “Do you have any idea of the consequences if you did decide to leave me?”
Continued eye contact and composure, “I would rather think about the consequences of staying with you and learning what it is that makes you happy,” she smiled, “and learning what you want of me, and when you want it.” His eyes lightened and flickered brown. “Perhaps you could give me some hints?” He was calming. She watched the tension and fury leave his face. Continuing with the composed but now playful tone, she added, “As a matter of fact, I think you were promising me something this afternoon in the kitchen.”
It worked. He mellowed. She didn’t make the first move, wanting him to believe he was in control. When he didn’t speak and stood, she thought perhaps he was leaving her suite and this conversation was done. But he didn’t. Instead, he scooped her out of the chair and carried her to the bed.
He wasn’t his old self and he wasn’t his new gentle self. He was somewhere in between, but closer to gentle than the night before. She did it, she mellowed him. Her response resulted in the consequence she hoped. Claire would figure him out. In the meantime, this was a little thunder but no storm.
Without friends no one would choose to live,
though he had all other goods.
—Aristotle
Chapter 29