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Twelve
I t was midnight by the time Connor pushed open the front door. The coolness of the night had already settled like a blanket over the house. As they crossed the darkened entrance hall, Victoria finally broke the silence that had clung to her like a heavy pall on the way home.
“You were right,” she said listlessly, “I should’ve invited him—them—to the wedding.”
“Victoria, you couldn’t have known—”
“He called me. He wanted to see me more often. I told him I didn’t believe we could sustain a relationship.” She glanced at Connor. “I was afraid, in case he walked away like he’d always done.”
“You think he’s going to let Juliet down, too, don’t you?”
She spread her hands. “I hope not. But I don’t know. He doesn’t have a good track record at staying—or being responsible. But to be fair, my mother didn’t try very hard either. She just gave up. I thought that was what loving someone meant. Pain and unhappiness.”
“Don’t underestimate Juliet. There’s toughness under that merry cheerfulness.”
“She’d better be made of steel to survive my father.”
There was no bitterness. It was what she genuinely believed. He considered her. “Frank was a bad father.”
“Yes. Between him and my mother, I was determined never to have to rely on someone for money or love. But I don’t think they ever loved each other—they got married because of me.”
Was that why she was so desperate to be successful? Connor wondered. Or was it independence rather than success that she craved? That rang more true. If she could take care of herself, she wouldn’t need to be reliant on a father…or a husband. Suddenly a lot made sense.
It was possible, too, that she saw Dylan as the opportunity to relive her own upbringing. This time with a happy ending.
In a moment of clarity Connor recognized that Victoria had never anticipated a happy ending for herself—her parents had seen to that. Yet she’d married him. He ached for her. She’d chosen to move in with a man she despised rather than leave Dylan vulnerable.
She had backbone all right, this wife of his.
He opened his arms. “Your father is going to be okay. Come, let me hold you.”
“I don’t know whether my father and I can ever find common ground. But I won’t close this door on him again.” She came into his arms without hesitation.
Connor started off intending to give comfort, and found instead that by holding her close, her warmth and softness filled a chasm that he hadn’t even been aware of having.
Last time she’d asked to be held, he hadn’t been ready. He’d been too full of grief.
But now he was ready.
Slowly he inhaled her sweet, feminine scent and realized that he never wanted to let her go. That she had crept into his life, into his heart. That she had become a part of him.
By the time she pulled away, Connor knew that the healing had finally begun.
Victoria stepped into Bridget Edge’s office the following morning and shut the door behind her with a gentle thud. She’d given much thought to what she was about to do. After the shock of her father’s heart attack and Connor’s surprising tenderness in the aftermath, she’d come to the conclusion it was the only option open to her.
Entering the large office that was the domain of the managing partner made her feel a little like a schoolgirl appearing in front of the head mistress. And the steely look in Bridget’s gaze did little to ease the butterflies already fluttering in Victoria’s stomach.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “Bridget, I’ve come to give you my resignation.”
“Have a seat.” Bridget waved to the chair opposite her, barely glancing at the white envelope Victoria set down on the desk. “You’re very valuable to us. Why do you want to leave?”
With a sigh, Victoria settled into the chair. “I need some time to straighten my life out. We’ll also need to sort out what’s to be done about my share in the partnership.”
The older woman took off her stylish, dark-rimmed glasses and set them down on her gleaming cherrywood desk. “You’ve been under a great deal of emotional stress—and your role here at Archer, Cameron & Edge is very demanding.”
Victoria nodded, relieved that Bridget understood her position. “I’m failing Dylan, too.”
“And Connor North?” Bridget’s brows rose. “Where does he fit in?”
That was the most difficult question of all. Victoria wasn’t sure of the answer herself.
Oh, Connor. Closing her eyes, she said, “He thinks I’m a terrible mother.”
