My father picked up the folder.
“Adelaide decides what happens with the debt.
Not me.”
“Today?” Peter asked.
“Today.”
“And if she refuses consent to the refinancing?”
My father did not answer.
He didn’t need to.
Peter knew.
The refinancing could stall.
The board would panic.
Other lenders could demand explanations.
A company that looked powerful from the outside could become vulnerable very quickly when confidence disappeared.
Peter turned to me.
“What do you want?”
The question almost angered me because it came so late.
“What do I want?”
“Yes.”
“You could have asked me that before marrying me.”
His face changed.
“I deserve that.”
I had expected another defense.
The admission unsettled me more.
I walked toward the door.
Peter followed.
“Adelaide.”
I stopped without turning.
“I was cruel,” he said.
Behind us, neither George nor my father moved.
Peter continued.
“I thought this marriage was a transaction.
That doesn’t excuse what I said.”
“No.”
“I judged you from photographs and gossip.”
“Yes.”
“And I was wrong.”
I finally turned.
His eyes flicked over my face, and I felt irritation spark instantly.
“If you’re about to tell me you were wrong because I’m attractive, save it.”
Peter actually flinched.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Wasn’t it?”
He paused.
Then he did something unexpected.
He looked ashamed.
“I was shocked when you lifted the veil,” he said.
“But that isn’t the part I was wrong about.”
I waited.
“I was wrong because I decided you had no interior life before I met you.
I turned you into an obligation because that made the arrangement easier for me.”
George stared at Peter as though he had never heard him speak that plainly.
Neither had I.
Peter gave a humorless smile.
“The fact that you could stop my refinancing before dinner is merely making the lesson difficult to ignore.”
Despite myself, a laugh escaped me.
Small.
