"Pardon?" Raylen can scarcely believe his ears.
"You heard me right." Henry's expression is now almost gleeful.
"What," Raylen asks coldly, "exactly do you mean by that?"
"That Sackville-West girl would have elevated our family so much if you had married her. Why do you think I never stopped you from seeing a poor girl like her? Her family is old and distinguished, more prestigious than the Blackwoods, even though it has fallen on hard times. You should have kept her alive."
Despite his contempt, he mentions the Sackville-West name with some reverence and regret, as if it is a company he had passed on buying only for it to turn massively profitable years later.
"I-I should have," echoes Raylen. "I really should have."
"Damn right." Henry is not a man who knows restraint or kindness. He is taken aback when his son walks out of the room without another word. "Hey! I am not done speaking t—"
"This conversation is over," states Raylen with an air of finality.
As he walks down the grand and sprawling corridor, he feels like a young adult again. The grief and guilt are fresh once more, and too large for him to know what to do with.
They threaten to swallow him whole.
He understands that he has no right to be angry at his father. Henry's opinion is cruel but true.
He should have done more to keep her alive. Had he not driven her away, she would not have had the chance to slice open her veins over a warm bath that winter's night.
This is an unalterable truth.
No amount of time can change or fade that reality. It is a wound that has not healed and will not heal. Grief may burn less fiercely with time, but guilt only grows and gnaws.
Raylen isn't sure he wants the wound to heal either. Healing seems to necessitate forgetting about Delaney and conveniently absolving himself of his sins.
He doesn't want that.
He wants to see her again.
Even just once.
Just once will be enough.
He wants to apologise, maybe braid her hair for her again, and tell her how much he misses her.
He wants her to know that he is wretchedly sorry.
That's all. It's a simple wish that can't be fulfilled.
"Ray. Ray! Come on, man. Raylen Vale, can you hear me?"
Kai's voice jolts him back to reality. "I can hear you very well."
"Then you should've said something sooner. Why do you look like the world owes you money? Well, it probably does, but that's beside the point."
Raylen ignores his friend's attempt at wit. "Do you," he ventures, "still think of Laney?"
The smile slips from Kai's face so quickly it's like it was never there. "What sort of question is that?" he manages after a few moments.
Raylen shrugs. "Just answer it."
Kai hesitates for another beat or two. "Of course. May does too. I am sure Queenie thinks of her from time to time as well."
"I don't think of her from time to time. I think of her constantly. Whenever I see something she might like, I can't resist getting it for her."
"What do you do with those gifts?" Kai sounds curious and at least a little mortified.
Raylen turns away. "I keep them in her room at our old apartment."
"Your old apartment…? At our college town on the other side of the country?"
"Yes."
"What does Livia think of this?"
"She does not know. I go there during business trips."
"Ah." Kai does not say more, but Raylen can hear the growing concern in his voice.
Raylen feels compelled to defend himself a little. "I have not turned her room into a hoarder's nest. I keep it neat. And I do not buy her silly trinkets or baubles."
"I didn't say you did any of those things."
"I know." Raylen cannot help but feel a little frustrated. "I was not implying that you did. I just felt like making things clear."
"Alright. I understand."
The two men walk in silence until Kai starts a new topic. "Are you sure you want to discontinue any investigative efforts into Janus Allister's background?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I do not want to feel like I am invading Laney's privacy again. She was furious the last time I did it."
"Janus Allister," begins Kai, "is not Laney." His tone is not unkind. "She is a reporter. If she is merely a reporter after the latest scoop, sure. If she isn't, it's better to be prepared. There's no harm in being careful."
"I know, but I just cannot shake the feeling off," Raylen admits. "Maybe later, when this no longer bothers me."
"I think you should talk to your favourite prima donna," suggests Kai.
Raylen laughs bitterly. "Don't let Glynis hear you calling her that. Anyways, she does not want to see me. She complained I only sought her out when I needed a free therapist."
"Welllll…"
"Well, she is not wrong."
"Yeah, but I didn't want to say it." Kai tries to sound lighthearted.
"And that was why," says Raylen drily, "I finished the thought for you."
"Your kindness is very much appreciated, but I'm going to change the topic at hand again because I find this awkward," quips Kai. "What are you going to do about your father and, uh, his tendency to dance rather charmingly to the media's tune?"
Raylen falls into thought. "I am wondering if we should, at long last, have our own in-house public relations team. We may have been outsourcing too much. These contractors are not necessarily loyal."
"They can be bought off easily by media companies," agrees Kai. "Even if not, we are just another client to some of them. Besides, your father is possibly one of the most entertaining men in business."
Raylen shoots his best friend a look. "Explain."
"I am just saying. If I were a contractor tasked with managing your family's reputation, I might be inclined to take my work just a little less seriously in order to keep the world laughing."