Page 53 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
A second cardboard box on the table had gained more neat stacks of wrapped crockery. Harlan stood at the counter making tea; Fern was labelling the box with a black marker:Kitchen—fragile.
"Doesn't have to go today," Harlan was saying. "I'll see about hiring a U-Haul for the weekend. Get everything into storage in one go. No sense paying for more days than we need."
"Storage is so expensive, Papa," Fern said, still writing. "You don't have to—"
"So is replacing everything you own," Harlan replied.
Coral scrambled back onto her chair at the table and picked up her yoghurt again. "Go holiday," she told Connor cheerfully. "Auntie Chi."
"Yes, we are, munchkin," Fern said, the faintest hint of amusement in her voice. "You need to pack your Legos."
"Okay," Coral replied, spoon waving.
Connor watched them, the three of them orbiting each other in this makeshift new plan as if it were the most natural thing in the world. With her bare face and that stubborn jut of her chin, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, Fern looked like a sixth-former packing for university instead of a woman dismantling her life. Harlan was quietly rearranging his plans in his head while Coral thought it was all anadventure. But Connor could only see the fight he had ahead of him to get them back. Now that everything was out in the open, only Fern and Coral mattered.
He felt both inside and outside of it all at once.
"I need to go to the station," he said finally.
Fern capped the marker and set it down. Then she straightened and met his gaze, cool and composed. "I'm coming with you to the police station," she said. "And we’ll see what DC Anand thinks about a visit to M-A-T-T-Y."
He swallowed. "Fern, no. No way. You don't need to go near her."
She lifted an eyebrow. "You talk like you still have any say in my decisions."
He flinched before his eyes hardened with resolve. "Alright then."
She studied him for a long moment, weighing. "Fine," she said as she took the steps two at a time with him at her heels. "Try not to check out your ex; it's disrespectful."
"I— I don't—"
"I know you always have eyes on her," she said, her tone bitter and stark. "Don't lie to yourself, Connor. Whatever is between you both is no longer my business. My business is my child and keeping her safe."
"Nothing is between us," he insisted. "Not since the day I met you. Not ever again. I swear it."
"What, haven’t fucked her recently?" The word slept sounded filthy in her mouth. "Congratulations. You want a medal?"
"I never touched her," he said, desperate. "I swear, Fern. Look at me, I am not lying."
She snorted. "You gave her your time, your energy, your attention. That is an emotional affair if not a physical one. Do you want a list ofall the times you left our dinner half-eaten because she texted? Or how about all the weekends that were supposed to be ours, but somehow, became all about Matty's crisis of the week?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She wasn't wrong.
"I know how it looked," he said eventually. "But when I looked at her, it wasn't because I wanted—"
"You looked because you wanted to," Fern cut in. "Don't pretend you didn't."
He blew out a breath, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I am not trying to justify my behaviour, because nothing justifies what I have done to you and Coral. But try to understand. She barely wears anything most of the time. She likes to shock people—she gets off on it," his voice grated, an expression of resolve in his eyes. "If someone flashes you, you're going to look for a second. You would be startled into looking. You would. That does not mean I wanted her. BecauseI don't want her."
Her eyes narrowed. "I concede; I might look." She paused. "For a second."
"Exactly," Connor said, seizing on the tiny scrap of agreement with desperation. "Exactly. That doesn't mean I'm tempted to do anything. I'm not lying to you, Fern. I thought she was the love of my life when I was a teenager, but she was poison—something I have known for a long time. All I want is you. All I've ever—"
She lifted a hand, cutting him off. "I don't have the bandwidth to argue about your male gaze right now," she said. "We both know where your time and attention have gone. You can spin it any way you like; it doesn't matter anymore."
She turned back to the box in their bedroom and pulled out a sweater while he stood there, clenching and unclenching his hands, searching for the right words to make her understand.
"Sawyer came by," she said instead, voice clipped. "While you were asleep."
