Chapter 82 OUTBURST
WILLA’S POV
My hope continued to dwindle with each passing day that the twins refused to talk to each other. The day after the big fight, Calisto, who wouldn’t dare meet my gaze, requested to go to the Alfiero Manor to spend time with my parents.
I allowed him to, thinking that maybe it was what he needed. A space to breathe. An environment where he wasn’t all cooped up.
Gillian, on the other hand, stayed with me. But it was evident how quiet and subdued she had become.
She still played, of course. But I could tell she was growing lonelier and lonelier. I tried to be there for her as much as I could, trying to fill in the void that Calisto’s presence and company usually filled.
It just wasn’t enough, though. Because I wasn’t Calisto, and it was him who she wanted to talk to and play with.
Hearing her sighs and seeing her half-forced a smile made me want to castrate Gallahan every single time.
The very bastard who finally deigned to show up on the late afternoon of the fourth day after the big fight.
“Hi, Willa,” he greeted sheepishly as he welcomed himself into my house.
The gall of this fucking man…
“Leave,” I said, returning my attention back to my sketchbook, which I had filled with drawings of nearly anything and everything under the sun.
I remained perched on the couch, the nearly inaudible scritch and scratch of my pencil against the paper filling the quiet living room. Meanwhile, Gallahan remained awkwardly standing a few steps away from the front door.
“Look…” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been gone for too long, even though I promised I would be back quickly. But something happened and-”
“Save it,” I interjected impassively, still locking my gaze on the half-finished portrait of my twins. “And just leave. Gillian and Calisto are not here.”
There was a pause. A falter. A second that lapsed in a kind of silence that was loud with Gallahan’s disappointment.
“Oh,” he said dumbly. “Where are they?”
“Calisto is with my parents, while Gillian is with William.”
Again, there was a pause.
But it was a little longer this time, making me pause from sketching and finally lift my head to gaze at Gallahan.
There was a frown on his lips, and his eyebrows were nearly drawn together. Confusion also made itself known in the way his eyes mildly squinted at their outer corners.
“They’re not together?” Gallahan said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite fathom how Calisto and Gillian could be apart from each other.
“No,” I answered simply. And as I got reminded once more about the big fight and the reason behind it, anger bubbled beneath my skin, making me feel hot and ready to rage. “They fought.”
“Did they?” Gallahan asked, sounding as if he had the greatest trouble at imagining it, much less believing it. Then the prat placed all the bags of gifts he brought on the center table and got himself seated on the armchair, saying, “Okay. So why don’t I wait for them with you, and we can help them iron things out toge-”
“Oh, really now?” I scoffed, the grip on my pencil tightening in fury. I was probably near the verge of breaking it in half, much like how I was close to snapping Gallahan’s neck. It was an absolutely tempting thing to do. But I somehow still had the rationality to keep my hands to myself. So I settled with scathingly snapping at him, saying, “Iron things out? Please, Gallahan. It’s your fault to begin with! It’s because of you that the twins couldn’t even stand to talk to each other now.”
“You’re pinning this on me?!” he asked, his tone sharp with incredulity. “Why would it be my fault? I wasn’t even here!”
His response caused me to finally break my pencil in half.
“Are you being obtuse on purpose? Or did you leave your brain in Moonshire? It’s exactly because you weren’t here that they fought!”
“I know, okay?!” He mussed up his hair in frustration, slightly tugging at the strands in the process. “I know it took me a while to come back again. But I’m here, aren't I? I’m here now.”
“You cannot be a father only when it’s convenient for you, Gallahan. It’s not how parenthood works!”
Gallahan let out a big disbelieving puff of breath and said, “Hold on. You’re being unfair, Willa. I told you I have something to take care of in Moonshire. The betrothal arrangement? Does that ring a bell for you?”
“Oh, sure. As if I could just tell the kids that their father is busy with another woman. For fuck’s sake, Gallahan! You didn’t even have the consideration to send a missive! Or… Or ask Miss Banfey to send the twins a message through her spiritual familiar.”
A flash of guilt crossed Gallahan’s feature. But it only lasted for a moment or two before he went on defensively, “Zee wasn’t even in Moonshire anymore. She hasn’t been with me since the Drummonds arrived at the Wicked Chateau. Neither was Maliya.”
“Ah. I see,” I drawled sarcastically. “You can’t even lift a pen without them?”
“I was busy, okay?” He argued, his voice rising in volume, as if doing so would help him get his point across. “I didn’t think of writing to you and our kids, because I was busy! I had to be with Elodie.”
Ah… Shit.
I froze on my spot on the couch, but my grip on my broken pencil went lax, as though the fight in me completely deflated like a balloon.
“Maybe,” I began to say through the bitter taste that had suddenly settled in my mouth. “Maybe I should take some things off of your plate.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t have to come here any longer.”
Gallahan quickly rose to his feet, a look of outrage etched deeply on his face.
“That’s just unfair, Willa. It’s not as if you tried to reach out to me too!”
“Why should I?” I asked, looking up at him defiantly. “It’s not like I was the one who demanded to be a present parent after the nesting, Gallahan. And it surely wasn’t me who made promises to the twins! So why should I? Hm? Why should I write a letter, asking you to come?”
My chest was heaving a little as I bit back the rest of my emotional tirade, the words slamming back into my mind, where they hissed like a burning poison.
‘I don’t have much pride and dignity left being your paramour mate… I’m not going to let go of what little I have left just to beg you for a bit of your time… Because if you truly wanted to be here, to be with our children, I wouldn’t have to ask. And neither do the children.’