Kendall and Marguerite Roy sat in silence on their sofa. They were less than five feet apart from one another. He had been drinking. She wasn't. For obvious reasons. It had been a long—a very long and perilous night. Daggers had been pulled out, and shoved into one another's backs. Roman and Kendall had lost Mencken to Lukas Matsson—who had promised an American CEO.
Something that Shiv Roy had suggested, and then suggested herself for. But—ultimately, like the GoJo team, and Lukas himself, Marguerite knew that wouldn't be the case. No. Oskar and Ebba had made that clear. They had a low opinion of the Roy family, as if they were expired seafood, or sushi from a bodega. They were dirty and American.
Cheap and shiny plastic toys—that broke apart and screeched. They were used to polished blocks, nicely sliding together as slender arms stacked them taller and taller.
Hell, they had free healthcare.
Marguerite wasn't sure how they felt about her—but she knew it wasn't as bad as they felt about the Roy's. She was French, by heart—and fucking their boss. Who had just pulled out a very real, and very legal contract for her. Something that promised her more than a relationship—something that constituted that she wouldn't be trapped. Stuck at home, watching after children. That she would have options.
But now she sat across from her husband. The man who had shoved her down into her place—who she had loved for so long, and probably still did—because she hadn't quite been acting at his father's funeral. She hadn't.
It was real to her. Especially in the short kiss she'd shared with him. He'd tasted bitter. She liked it.
Neither of them knew quite what to say.
They were both a bit lost.
Beyond lost, actually.
"How far along are you?" Kendall starts, jumping right into logistics. "Like, you've seen a doctor. Right?"
"Yeah. Um, I went on Election Day. Lukas told me to. So I did. About two months." She fiddles with her hoop earring. It was a set Kendall had bought her. She'd worn them for sentimental value—for the funeral, and now she felt as if they were pulling down on her earlobes.
"We were sleeping together then" he says "Things were good then." He clears his throat "Were you uh—Had you seen him yet?"
"I had. France was um—the third time we met up."
"The third? Uh— I was thinking it was the first" Kendall snickers a little before shaking his head to himself. "So it's either of us. It's either your husband, or you've got a Swedish baby daddy."
"Don't say that. It's—It's just gross, and demeaning."
"You're the one who cheated on her husband. You don't have morals. Why uh—Why can't you say that? How about I'm sorry?"
"You fucked my career, Ken."
"You would've been bored. I know you, Lou. More than anyone else. Do you think I'd ever hurt you?"
"Yes, because you did."
He rolls his eyes, leaning in "You're much better when you don't work. Like less tense. You know it. Everyone does. The world is peaceful. Besides, you didn't want a fucking nanny. I would've been happy to get you one. You didn't want one."
"I was raised by nannies and look at me. Do you think I wanted that for someone with a clean slate?"
"Lou, honey. Come here."
She makes a face, pulling a pillow into her lap instead. Not moving any closer to him.
"I'm serious, Lou. Come here."
She moves over to him, laying down and placing her head in his lap "You're a good listener today." He murmurs, running a hand through her hair, and then stroking her nose a little.
"I wanted to do this in the car. But Roman and Shiv—"
"Don't bring them up now."
She shuts her eyes, feeling herself breathing a little more heavily, biting down on her lip, Marguerite reaches for the hand that isn't actively examining her face.
He lets her take it, grinning as she does so, his fingers close around hers and he sits there happily for a minute, before continuing to speak. "I've been thinking—Thinking a lot, actually. About this, and us. Our situation."
"Hm?" She murmurs, feeling the wedding band still on his finger.
"Marguerite, I saved you. Whether you acknowledge it or not, I saved you. You—You were trying to kill yourself before you had me. I gave you comfort. Something to do—and how to heal. I mean, you couldn't sleep without diary entries. Our son opened doors for you. You know? And I could've done it earlier. I gave you time to play in the castle—but it didn't work. It just didn't, honey."
"You sound like an asshole" she murmurs, pressing his hand to her face now, unsure of why she was still laying there. Maybe she liked the warmth, or maybe she liked him.
"Why are you like this now?" She asks "You were so sweet—almost sweet at the funeral. It's like you have a switch."
"My dad wanted me to take Garnier from you. Take over, and uh—merge it with Waystar. It seems like a joke now." Kendall nervously laughs "And I never did it. Ever."
"Were you going to?"
"I thought about it. But uh—No. No. I couldn't."
Kendall sighs, carrying on with his story "You know what I hate the most about him? He's right—so much of the god damn time. Or was right."
"How so?"
"I'm just—I'm not the things he was, and he knew it. He told me, Lou. Everything he has ever said it's just, it's too fucking true."
Marguerite squeezes his hand "None of it will matter soon. He's gone. You'll move on."
Kendall doesn't answer.
"He told me you were like your mother. I don't think he was wrong about that either."
It was a cold thing to say.
But he wasn't wrong.
"Don't say that, Ken."
"You look like her. Almost identical. And you did everything you could to kill our son. You drank yourself into headaches when he was here."
"Your point being?"
"You can't run from what's real. And what he said, Lou. It was always real. You can't. I'm a fuck up—and you're an alcoholic destined to give babies Valium by accident."
"Notice how I haven't had anything. Self control is a thing, Kendall."
"Your mother ran off with a Swedish guy, right? Before she died?"
"Fuck you." She sits up, pushing away from him. She was growing tired of hearing about her mother.
"No. I don't think I'd fuck you" he shakes his head, wrinkling his nose a little bit "Not now. Not while you're carrying it."
Marguerite makes a face at him. This was beyond Kendall. What the fuck?
"You fucked me all the time with our last."
"And that was before you became a pornstar—or sucked foreign cock for attention. Did I not give you enough?"
"Again, fuck you."
Kendall rolls his eyes, picking up his own glass that he had placed down on the counter, watching her squirm. "You know, I uh—I don't think he'll touch you either. I think he'd be the type to get squeamish with women who aren't a size two. Which you won't be, soon enough. Maybe he'll fuck Ebba instead."
"What is wrong with you?" Marguerite exclaims "Jesus, we had a normal conversation and now—now it's this."
"I'm telling you the truth, honey. I think you need it. Desperately. Have you tried Botox? You're starting to wrinkle, not a great thing for whores."
"I could tell you the same thing. But you won't listen to me—you don't ever, unless I'm at my wits end and it turns you on."
"Why does he call you Margey?" He asks "I don't get it. It's tacky."
"Kendall."
"What did he even promise you?"
"Kendall."
"What? I'm just uh—I'm curious as to how someone managed to do any of this. Especially since it involves making you smart."
"He told me what you did. He offered me more than what you could give me."
"People you love also fuck you. It's how the world works, Lou. I'm just playing my part in protecting my family—and letting you make us look like—like fucking idiots, wasn't going to work."
"Like idiots? Because running one of the largest publications in the world is dumb."
"No. It's just—it's tacky. I mean, look at my father. Look at my Mom, look at Marcia. They didn't—They don't indulge in bad fucking hobbies, they read about everyone else's and gossip."
"Your mother is miserable and insipid."
"And you aren't?" He scoffs "Lou, I love you. But you are the most vain person I've ever met. You're so close to being a narcissist—but I actually think your trauma hinders you from taking the leap."
"Your mother wouldn't even hold Kendall."
"Neither would you. You cried after he was born. You don't think I remember?" He rolls his eyes "I do. I also remember when you were more concerned about scheduling your lipo discreetly."
"It took me a little time. I can—I'm willing to admit that, Ken."
"Good. You can tell that to a judge, because let me get back to my main point—Lou, honey. I love you. I've thought about every possible way I could fuck you—and none of them make me happy. And by fucking, I mean destroying.
But uh—none of it made me feel anything. Really. I need you. I need you scuffing my shoes and being in my home. I uh—I value it. Whatever your presence is, it's massive—fucking huge. And I need it. But I need it how I want it. And you know what I want.
If you fucking run off with Lukas, with our son—I will sue you into the ground. You don't care about that, I know. When or if you try to divorce me—I'll get custody. You're an unfit parent. It's not a hard argument. And if that thing growing in you is mine, I'll do the same thing.
I have no problem with you wanting to leave me. Sure, it'll make me sad. But I'm sure there are equally as desperate, and willing girls. Hey—Naomi. Right? But I will make your life hell. I will take your blood—your rights and squash them into the ground.
I love you, Lou. I've loved you for years, and I've let you run around the edges of my fucking game—I've let you interfere in so many rounds of chess. But no more. I need you to take a backseat."