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“I know you hate me.” God, I don’t know if he can even hear me. But maybe I need to do this for me more than for him at this point. “And I deserve it. But…” I take a deep breath that hurts going in.
I blink and a tear rolls down my cheek. “I love you. I have always loved you, even when you hated me and wouldn’t speak to me. Even when I threatened to disinherit you. I love you.”
I dip my head down and take a measured breath to keep from weeping.
“I have never been good at showing it. I don’t need you to forgive me. I just want a chance to show you I can be the father I should have been from day one.”
I clutch his hand as hard as I can without fearing I’ll hurt him. I lean my forehead against his.
It doesn’t matter that he’s an adult, going on thirty years old. He’s still little Nathan. Still laying in his car-shaped bed, asking for a bedtime story, trying to keep his eyes open until he’s snoring like a puppy on my arm.
“I’m here. Dad is here. Okay?”
Fuck the club. Fuck everything I’ve spent my life working on. It was always the wrong things.
This is the universe giving me a second chance to get it right, at least a little bit.
And I’m not going to waste it. “I’m going to be here every step of the way. I promise.”
I remain there with our foreheads touching, tears gliding down my face.
And then his hand tightens in mine. Squeezing back.
I sit up, almost sure my brain is tricking me.
But there it is, his fingers tighten around mine.
When I look back at my son’s face, his eyes are cracked open, gleaming. Staring at me.
We look at each other for a long time.
It may not be forgiveness, but it’s a start.
24
SONIA
“What do youmean,we’re running behind?” I put my hands on my hips.
The lead designer laughs like it’s no big deal. “I mean that we’re running behind. Do you want me to break out a thesaurus?”
The wine cellar encircles us. Except it doesn’t much resemble the cellar anymore.
I feel like I’m standing in the ancient ruins of Pompeii from all the dust and rocks and mess that’s accumulated the past few weeks.
“I have plans to close the club at the top of next week for you to put the finishing touches on–”
“We need two more weeks.” He half shrugs. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
I bite my lower lip to keep from bursting a slew of insults all over this man.
I haven’t liked working with him from the start, but it’s even worse when Edwin isn’t around. And Edwin hasn’t been around for three days.
My fault too. Which makes it worse. “You’ll be hearing from our contracts department, then.”
“Fine. Send them my way.” He turns around to go hound some workers who seem to always be doingsomethingwrong. As if they can afford to fuck up anything else now that they’re running a full two weeks behind.
I storm out of the cellar.
