"What you both did shaped me, shaped us," he nodded at Irene, who had remained frozen. "I want to prove to myself that marriage is not some damn trap that we enter into because it's bloody convenient. I met this woman and she fascinates me. She's different and I have a feeling she's going to be the one to save me, save this family."
"Aren't you pinning a lot on a single person?" Sarcasm was rife in his father's voice. "We're who we are and never pretended to be any different. Your mother and I have been married for almost forty years and we're content with our way of life. We might see other people, but we respect each other and have no intention of going our separate ways."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you with each other?" He rounded on Charles, who was in the process of taking a sip of his wine. "And for that matter, why are you with my sister? You clearly do not love her, you son of a bitch. Why the hell don't you do the decent thing and go your way?"
"Now look..."
"We don't argue at the dinner table, you know that." His mother cut off Charles' protest primly.
"Isn't it funny, Mother?" he asked softly. "You're so correct and proper when it comes to certain etiquettes. But cheating is like breathing to you, isn't it?"
Her eyes flashed. "How dare you speak to me like that! I'm your mother and I deserve respect."
"No, you don't. You lost that when I saw you with your best friend's husband when I was ten years old." He rounded on his father. "And you were in the library with that best friend's husband. I was sick to my stomach that night. It changed my life forever. I was never the same."
"We were just having fun." His father had the grace to look uncomfortable. "We weren't hurting anyone and you should have been in bed."
Dean sent him a scornful look. "That's your takeaway? I was supposed to be in bed?"
"We are good parents," his father began.
"No, dammit! You're lousy parents, who should never have had children. We were left to be brought up by servants." He glared at his father.
"You slept with our nannies, damn you. We shared women. The same nannies who took care of us. When I was thirteen, I was initiated by one of them. We were screwing the same woman. What the hell kind of monster are you?"
"I will not justify my actions to you..."
"Of course not." Shoving from the table, he drained his glass and turned to his sister. "Remember what I told you the other night." His eyes swept around the table. "Irene is terribly unhappy with this bastard you forced her to marry, who is blatantly cheating on her." He rounded on Charles, who straightened in his chair.
"I told her to kick you to the curb, because she deserves better, but it's up to her. As for you," he pinned his parents with a heated glance, "I'm doing things my way from now on and to hell with you."
*****
He drove around for a bit as he thought about his next move. It was a bold one and he was determined not to fail. He had given her a week to miss him. Was she missing him, though, or had she dismissed him the moment he drove off? No. Shaking his head, he turned the car around. Not after what they had shared that night. He was experienced enough to know when a woman was involved and she had been. Her responses to his kisses had been innocent, yet passionate.
And it was time to put all his cards on the table. It occurred to him that she might be engaged for the evening. It was a Sunday and he knew she taught Sunday school. But what if she was involved with someone? He never thought to ask that.
Pulling into the driveway, he was relieved to see her vehicle parked there. He had brought her flowers and chocolates. He had no idea what her favorites were, so he had brought her several varieties.
Galahad started barking as soon as he stepped onto the porch. Before he could knock, the door was swung open and she planted herself right in the middle of the doorway. Trying to stop the dog from squeezing past her was hopeless. Galahad had made his choice and came bounding out to greet the caller enthusiastically.
Lifting the bouquet out of harm's way, Dean bent to give the dog a vigorous rub, his eyes meeting the stormy golden-brown ones.
"What are you doing here?"
"Bringing you flowers." Nudging the animal aside, he deliberately stepped around her and closed the door. Galahad mashed himself against Dean's thigh, his tongue lolling out.
"Galahad, go." Catherine snapped her fingers and the dog raced off into the kitchen.
"These are for you." Dean handed her the bouquet when she stood there without moving. "And chocolates. I noticed you like flowers as evidenced by your garden."
"Dean..."
"So, you do remember my name." His voice was teasing as he handed her the flowers. "I wasn't sure, as you did not call."