Chapter 48 Not on me - Vincent
I need sleep, preferably more than four hours. As much as I want to be, I'm not a machine, and I may crash if I don't get at least eight hours of shut eye.
It's past five in the morning when I pull up to the house. I promised Lily we were going to go for a drive today, but I don't know if I can afford to go away on a Saturday night.
I don't want to disappoint her, though, so I tried getting people that I wholeheartedly trust in the clubs. I don't want to be a few hours away and then get a call that I'm needed.
I should sleep in the spare room, but my weary feet carry me to our bedroom, where I know I will find my wife. She's been braiding her hair at night, even though I want it loose and everywhere on me, but she says it gets in the way.
Yes, I am totally obsessesd with my wife's hair.
I open the door, to the bedroom, exoecting to find her figure underneath the covers, but the bed is still neatly made.
What the fuck?
I go to the only other place I expect I might find her, and I'm not wrong.
Lily is still up, wearing denim overalls splashed full of white paint, just looking at the canvas before her. I walk inside, but she doesn't even hear me approach.
"Lily." I say softly, but there's no reaction from her, and I pull on her braid, and her face turns to me. "What are you doing up so late?"
She blinks, her forest green eyes seemingly vacant and tired. "What time is it?'
"It's almost five in the morning."
She blinks again, like she is not registering what I'm saying, a streak of white paint on her cheek.
"Lets go to bed." I pry the paint brush from her fingers, and she follows me like a sleepwalker. I figure it would be okay if I let her sleep with the paint on her face, because she looks pretty out of it, like she's switched off a long time ago.
I'm also a bit pissed off, because where the fuck is Fiona? She's supposed to keep Lily company, she could've told Lily to go to bed a long time ago.
I don't know any other artists either, so I don't know if this is normal or not.
I gently undress her and there is none of the usual spark in my wife's face. She's like a doll that I get to play dress up with.
As soon as her head hits the pillow, she's gone. I stare at her for a second before getting undressed and climbing in next to her.
I don't get the sleep I need. Instead, I'm already up at eight, freshly showered and in search of Fiona, Lily still knocked out.
I find Fiona in the kitchen helping the staff prepare breakfast.
"Why was Lily still up when I got home this morning?" I want to know.
Fiona's eyes widen slightly in fear, and I try to school my expression so my frustration doesn't show.
"She refused to go to bed, sir." Fiona gulps. "She kept on saying she needed to get the dress right in her painting, she might get chosen to showcase her work at an exhibition."
I didn't fucking agree to let her go to college so she could stay up the whole night and paint.
"Vincent." Father says behind me. "Just the man I was looking for, can I have a word?"
I really need to get some fucking sleep.
I follow Father into the library.
"You look tired." He comments unnecessarily.
I know I probably look like a fucking walking ghost.
"It sucks with Enzo out." I admit. "And I don't just trust anyone blindly. I've been working too much."
"Seems like your wife has been working too much, too." Father sounds judgemental.
"I'm aware."
"I know you're a modern man and all that bullshit you young people believe in." Father's eyebrow raises sarcastically. "But back in my day women knew their places."
I refuse to say anything to that, because back in his day my mother also had fucking major depression and killed herself. Maybe if she had something to do other than sitting around and look pretty, things would have turned out differently for her.
"Lily loves painting. I don't see any harm in that." Well, maybe a little harmful this morning, but he doesn't need to know the full scope of her condition.
"Frank says she's quite the gifted artist." Father smiles condescendingly. "I trust your judgement, you know that, but just be careful. You can't have your bride running around the city trying to become the next Picasso."
"Certainly not." I say what he wants to hear, but I have no intention in curbing Lily's passion. I would however have a talk with her on maybe not overdoing it.
"I spoke with her father last night."
"You did?" Why doesn't the father ever call me? Why is he always having conversations with my father over our future when I'm a fucking adult man and perfectly capable of taking care of Lily on my own.
"Yes, he has some concerns."
"Regarding?"
"The baby, Vincent." Father sighs. "That was the deal, wasn't it? The two organizations merge alliances with a bond that cannot be broken. Children. Half Italian, half Irish. Are you doing everything in your power to make that happen? Might I add, that in a year, if there is no baby, the deal forfeits."
I clench my jaw, frustration pouring out of every vein.
Babies don't just magically appear, for fuck's sake.
Also, how do I tell my wife that both organizations are waiting for our offspring with bated breath?
Without her kicking me in the balls, of course.
I also wanted her for myself for a little while longer.
Would she be the same Lily if she had a baby?
Or would she turn out just like my mother?