“What did you expect me to say?” His voice rose, his cheeks growing pink. “I loved Jennifer. I loved her, and I loved you, and I was caught between two families. I couldn’t leave your mother, but I had an obligation to Jennifer.”
I frowned. “An obligation?” My mind spun, and it hit me that Shane was born around the same time my mom passed away. “She was pregnant.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
He nodded. “Yes. She was pregnant with Shane, and your mother was finally recovering.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, I told her about Jennifer and asked her to finally give me a divorce.”
I couldn’t help it; my jaw dropped. My mother knew? More importantly, she’d kept it from me?
“She was surprised about Jennifer but asked me not to tell you girls just yet. She felt you’d been through enough with her illness, and she wanted to just enjoy the holidays one last time as a family. So, yet again, we decided to hold off. After four years, what were a few more months at that point? That last Christmas together was supposed to be my gift to her.”
“How generous of you.” My voice was tinged with sarcasm.
“Please, Lauren,” he said. “Please. I’m just trying to tell you what happened.”
I snapped. “Yourversion of what happened. How convenient that Mom isn’t here to tell her side.”
She’d died in October, a few months after she’d gone into remission. And now I wondered if her accident really had been one after all. I felt like I knew nothing and had to question everything I thought was true.
“I wish she were,” he said in a soft voice. My eyes darted to his. “I miss her too.”
Considering the circumstances, I found it difficult to believe. Perhaps sensing my skepticism, he said, “I do. I visit her grave every year on her birthday and Christmas.”
I gasped, holding my hands to my mouth. “You leave the daisies?”
They’d always been my mom’s favorite flower, and I’d often wondered who had left them. I’d just assumed there was no way it was my father.
He held up a hand with a sheepish grin. “Guilty.”
It eased something in my soul, knowing that despite it all, he still cared for my mother. That he took the time to mourn her and visit her. That I wasn’t alone in my grief.
“I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused, all the missed years and memories. I didn’t intend for any of this to happen. I… Well, have you ever met someone who makes you light up inside? Someone who just gets you?”
I couldn’t believe it, but I found myself nodding at the thought of Hunter. And then I remembered what he’d done, and a tear leaked out, snaking its way down my cheek.
“Then you know how rare it is. How special.”
I nodded again, words escaping me. I also knew how heartbreaking it was to lose it.
“That’s how it was with Jennifer,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “She made me feel like…like I could do anything.”
I was still coming to grips with everything he’d told me, and the anger was still there, simmering. I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Like sleep with her while lying to your family?”
My mother might have known, but he’d still lied to my sister, to me.
He winced. “I deserve that. But in all fairness, I never intended to let it go on as long as it did. I did the best I could with the hand I was dealt.”
He was right, and I knew that. Just like I knew my anger wasn’t entirely directed at him.
I was silent for a moment, absorbing his words. Objectively, his reasoning actually made sense. But when it came to my heart, it was a different matter.
“Do you regret it?” I finally asked, realizing that everything was both simpler and more complex than I’d expected.
He considered it a moment before finally meeting my eyes. “I regret that I caused you pain. That I caused pain for so many people I loved.”
“Yes, but if you could go back and do it over, would you do it differently? Would you have stopped yourself from having the affair?”
“You…” He swallowed. “When you fall in love with someone, when your heart decides what it wants—you are powerless to resist.”
He’d hit the nail on the head. I closed my eyes, tears slipping out from beneath my lashes. I hadn’t cried in years until the past few weeks. And now I was like a leaky faucet that wouldn’t stop.
