cannibal; kendall roy

Chiantishire

The plane ride to Italy had reminded Marguerite Garnier that maybe she wasn't the loneliest person in the world, and that perhaps her husband, was doing just as poorly as her. He didn't really have Shiv and Roman, he barely saw Connor- and his plane ride had just consisted of her, his two children (who he rarely saw), their nanny, his assistant and Comfry.

Sophie and Iverson were less of the bumbling kids she'd met around a year and a half ago. They were more quiet, they sat in the back and played or talked with one another. They were polite to her, and to Kendall. Sophie had asked about the baby, and if they'd picked a name yet.

Or if they'd had a baby shower.

They hadn't.

Marguerite didn't want one. She found the idea of playing games for an unborn child and having people gawking at her to be unruly. When it came to names, she already knew what she wanted, and she'd probably have to fight Kendall for it. But she was going to damned if that child wouldn't be named Louis.

It had to be.

But as they sat alone, Kendall's staff chattering in the background, clicking away on their laptops and phones, Kendall decided to confide in her. Something the pair hadn't done in a longtime.

"I uh, I don't think my kids like me that much" he admitted slowly, playing with one of the bracelets around her wrist. "I'm not a great father. But at least, I'm not him."

"Your kids love you, Kendall. They're just teens. You were like that once."

"Funny" Kendall mutters "We all become what we hate, don't we? Whether we like it or not."

"That's a mundane way to look at things."

"No?" He questions "It isn't. I hate my fucking Dad, but I love him. They probably hate me, and love me. It isn't right." And then he looks down at her "And I just wonder, I wonder if that'll stay the same."

She doesn't know what to say, even as he asks "What do you think, Lou?"

It was a big question to ask, and a question she didn't really know the answer to. It was something she didn't really want to answer, as it forced her to think about the living thing that would come out of her sooner or later. Would it be bruised, or swollen? Would it be fucked up? Or would it become all of those things?

"I don't know, Ken."

"You don't know?"

"We're complicated people."

"You mean we're fucked up."

She sighs, leaning back into her seat "What do you want me to say? No? Because we are."

He glances back to where Sophie and Iverson are sitting and then grabs her hand tightly, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to it "I love you, Lou. You're my constant."

"I love you too."

Things had been rocky between the two of them, there was no question about that. They had been fighting. There were constant arguments, but at the end of the day they still ran back to one another and fell asleep together.

Even after the birthday, when Kendall had his breakdown and came back with a shaved head. When Marguerite had gone ahead and pushed herself for Editor in Chief. And now on the way to this stupid fucking wedding.

Speaking of which, the minute they had arrived, Kendall seemed to act as if he was walking on ice. She didn't blame him. His mother was well, special.

Caroline Collingwood had not grown on Marguerite Garnier as a mother in law, or as anyone. The only thing she could say was at least she was alive and could hold her liquor. Unlike her own mother. But Caroline was just as mean, which she liked to disguise as wit.