There it was, her hunger to be the best, be thought of as the beautiful, amazing person she’d always been. There was nothing wrong with it, but when she was claiming to want to put family first, her attitude seemed wrong.
‘You’ve got a while to go yet. The leases were up in early March, but then add another year before the tenants leave. I don’t see why you needed to rush on over there.’
‘Leases are up in March, Dylan.’
‘A year in March, yes.’
‘No, in March. As in less than three months’ time.’
Dylan balled his fists at his sides. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘They’re not getting the extra year?’ When she shook her head, he fought to keep his voice under control. ‘I agreed that an extra year would be given to the tenants to make it fair. They’ve been there a long time, you can’t expect them to get anything organised in just a few months.’
Prue held up her hands. ‘I had no idea you’d wanted an extra year, but I can assure you that’s not happening.’ She took out her phone. ‘I’ll call my father but I’m pretty sure you’re wrong.’
He couldn’t be in the same room when she talked to Michael, so Dylan left Prue in the kitchen, checked on the kids who were mesmerised with Macaulay Culkin giving the Wet Bandits a run for their money, and went into the downstairs bathroom where he splashed icy cold water on his face. Had he been so blindsided by the money that he’d lost his scruples and hadn’t combed through the contract to check the finer details?
He looked in the mirror, at the drips hanging from his jaw. He pulled the hand towel from its ring and patted his skin, closed his eyes, and dried his forehead. Yes, he had been that stupid. It’d been the day he’d buried his mom, and between that and looking after his kids, he’d dropped the ball. He hadn’t read the fine print to check; he’d made an assumption, and a wrong one. Cleo and every other tenant would be out of their premises before the blossom on the trees even dared to appear in spring. And it was his fault.
He clutched the edge of the basin to steady himself. He couldn’t believe Prue had told her father all about his family’s financial woes. Agreed, he hadn’t asked her to keep it quiet, but it was kind of assumed she would. And now Dylan was left wondering how much of the investment was shrewd business acumen and how much was because Prue still wanted to control him like a puppet on a string, to dance whichever way she chose.
When he returned to the kitchen, her face said it all. Her father would’ve confirmed the lack of wording in the contract pertaining to an extra year for all tenants.
‘I’m sorry, Dylan. My father assumed you’d read all the contracts. You liaised with the company solicitor and signed all the papers.’
‘Did he simply forget to the put the wording in?’ The cynicism in his voice sung out.
‘He told me it hadn’t made good financial sense for the Amersham Group and he had to make a business decision.’
‘Then he should’ve told me rather than pulled the wool over my eyes.’ When Prue didn’t answer, he knew she was thinking the same. She was many things, but she wasn’t dishonest. She was blinkered when it came to her father and she was having the time of her life with a new job, the power of it, the feeling of being back in the corporate world he no longer wanted to be a part of.
And now this wasn’t about business. It wasn’t about her father. It was about him and her, their children, their future.
‘Prue—’
She held up a hand, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. ‘Don’t, Dylan. Please don’t say it.’
He went to her side now. No matter their differences and how many wrongs she had done, she was still the mother to his children and he cared about her. He stood close enough to touch her, but he didn’t.
‘Prue, we’re not meant to be. Don’t you see that?’
The tear that rolled down her cheek either suggested she didn’t, or she wasn’t ready to accept it.
‘I’m pleased you’re so happy now. You left us and you found yourself so at least some good came out of what you did. But we won’t work. We could never work. We’re so different. You love the corporate life, the suits, the money, the social side. I’m a web designer at the very bottom of my game, and happy to be. I’m happy bumming around at home with the kids, eating burgers rather than dining at fancy restaurants, watching a movie with Ruby and Jacob rather than going to a show.
‘I was a lawyer when you met me, but it wasn’t long before I realised that skin didn’t fit. It was like putting on the same sweater every day of the week—comfortable and acceptable—but I outgrew it very quickly. I think I had to follow the wrong career path to find the right one.’
‘You always were so capable. Of anything,’ she said, wiping beneath her eyes with her fingers to stop the mascara running onto her cheekbones and tipping over the edge, down her face. ‘I never felt good enough.’
‘What do you mean?’ He pulled up a bar stool next to the one she was sitting on now, her elbows resting on the kitchen bench.
‘You were a great father right from the start. Nothing seemed to faze you. Everything seemed to be difficult for me and the more I saw you doing it so well, the more of a failure I felt.’
He reached out and squeezed her forearm. ‘I had no idea. But you’re wrong. You’re a good mom. I think it’s a learning curve for everyone and it took you a bit longer to get going, that’s all. But Ruby and Jacob are happy as anything and I think you needed to give me custody to give yourself time to work through your own emotions before you tackled theirs.’
She burst into tears again, a weakness he rarely saw. ‘See, there you go again, being so bloody understanding and… damn it… right!’
He laughed at that. ‘You’re kind, Prue. I wouldn’t have stayed with you if you weren’t. So don’t forget that. But you and I, together? Well, it’s like waffles with peanut butter and jelly.’
She grinned. ‘Some people like that.’
