Because the Night

breakfast and every moment after that

Five minutes after Lily got into the car that would take her far away from Highland, an employee pulled up to the Welcome Desk on her way to work. Diego hitched a ride. If only Lily had stayed another few minutes, Diego thought. The problem would've been solved. He would've aced the last mission.

At that point, Diego still believed Lily's problem had been exhaustion. That she wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe she was afraid of the dark, and it had addled her. 

Diego didn't realize what the real problem was: When the going got tough, he abandoned her—the one thing he said he didn't do. 

After being dropped off near a back door, he trudged back through Highland toward his room, hoping nobody he knew would see him and ask why he looked so gaunt, so hunched. He was surrounded by a haze of shame he didn't quite understand. She was the one who ran away, so why did he feel like he did something wrong? 

That's what he resolved to say when he saw his dad at breakfast. Lily's leaving was Lily's fault, not his. He still deserved to run Highland, alongside him and the rest of the Moody men. This rule was antiquated and bonkers. He was a modern man, and didn't need the "sage guidance" or "wisdom" or "temperance" of a woman. 

Moses was sitting at the breakfast table. He'd already served himself. Even though Diego had arrived back at the hotel at seven in the morning, he still was late to breakfast. He was in a "rage against the machine and the man" mood. 

"You're late," Moses said. 

"And I'm alone," Diego said. "Which is what you really wanted to comment on, right?" 

Moses put the napkin down on his lap and then took a sip of coffee. "You're talking, not me." 

"Yes, well. I'm alone. And I don't think that should matter," Diego snapped. "You realize this entire enterprise is sick, right? Judging someone based on whether they're single or not?"

"It's worked, so far," Moses said, measuredly.

"Yeah? Has it? Should we take the hotel away from you because mom is dead, in that case?"

If the comment hurt, Moses didn't let it show. "You should get something to eat. You're probably hungry after that ordeal. I think there's a stick in your hair ,still" Suddenly, a waiter materialized, as if Moses had them all on puppet strings. "He'll have an omelette." 

"I wanted pancakes," Diego said, in a voice that sounded like a whine. Lily wasn't with him, and he felt like he was unraveling. 

"You'll feel even more nauseous if you drown your stomach in syrup," he said, with disgust. "You need protein." 

"Oh, stop telling me what I need and don't need. You were so busy bossing Mom around that you didn't consider what she actually needed. Which was a break. From you. And you already know what happened when she tried to get one." Here, Diego paused to dramatically shake his head. He whistled, like someone falling down. "She didn't get to enjoy freedom."

"You have no idea what happened between me and your mother."

"She was miserable!" he said. "She wanted to go home, not be locked away in this castle—just like all the other wives who are trapped here." 

"Actually, they're all quite happy." That was true. They all seemed to be quite happy. But Diego's point still stood. "Your mom and I had a fight. And the fight ended in a way neither of us could've predicted, or wanted. That's it." 

"The system doesn't make sense, Dad. You forced me into accelerating a relationship that I was just started to enjoy. For what? So that I could join a cult?"