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His smile faded. He looked down at Maeve and wished suddenly that he could take it all back, all the times he'd hurt her and snubbed her and rejected her. "You always were," he said softly.
More, he thought, say more. But there were no words, just a thick lump of regret in his throat and a burning need for absolution.
Tears puddled in her eyes, her mouth trembled. "No," she whispered. A tear streaked down her face. "No."
Ian wanted to close the distance between them, maybe even wipe the tears from her eyes. But he couldn't move, couldn't really fathom that kind of intimacy. Too much had happened, too much water lay beneath the bridge, dark and ugly and swirling with lost moments, a lifetime of miscommunication.
They stood that way for what seemed like hours, and Ian knew that she was as paralyzed by regret as he was. On the mantel, the porcelain clock ticked slowly onward.
You can hurt your mother, or you can not hurt your mother. Simple decision. Simple.
The thought came to him, sharp and clear and cleansing. It was as if Selena were inside him, urging him to be strong, to take a risk.
Everything is easy for you, Selena.
And so difficult for you, Ian.
She was right. The world did hinge on choices, some as simple as this one. He could reach out right now,
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touch his mother with words. It might not be much, might not right every wrong that had punctured their relationship for years, but it could be something he'd never imagined, and yet never stopped aching for.
A beginning.
He gazed down at his mother, seeing the silvery trails that streaked her pale cheeks, and he wished to Christ he could hold her. Just that ...
But he couldn't, of course. Not yet. All he could offer was an uncertain start. "Mother, I ... I'm sorry. For everything."
It wasn't much, he realized. A pale imitation of the emotion that was needed.
She was surprised by the apology. Her eyes widened, and then a slow, trembling smile curved her lips. "I'm sorry, too, Ian." She reached out one hand, pale and slim in the sunlight.
He stared at it, feeling a rush of fear, then hope. Slowly he slipped his fingers through hers and squeezed.
Images hurled themselves at him, forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. It took him a second to realize that they were beautiful images and heart-wrenching words.
I love you, Ian.
He opened his eyes. Their gazes met, locked. He knew in that instant that she wouldn't say the words aloud, not yet, not to him. She'd been hurt by him too often to trust him so easily, and she wasn't sure that this moment was real. Deep down, she was afraid that she was lost in the abyss of her own mind, and that she was making it all up, that tomorrow he'd ignore her again.
"It's real," he said quietly.
She said nothing, just nodded. Another tear streaked down her face. Then she cleared her throat. "What are you going to do about Selena?"
"Do? Why, I'll marry her, of course."
"Have you asked her?"
"No. But that's just a formality."
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Maeve laughed. "Nothing is just a formality with Selena."
Ian laughed with her, and it felt good. "That's certainly true. Marriage will have to make sense to her." His voiced trailed off. A frown pulled at his brows. "Holy hell ..."
"Yes," Maeve said. "It could be a problem."
