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“Thank you, honey.” But his mother’s story didn’t end there. “The pregnancy wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be. I worried every second of every day. The last couple of months, I had to go on bed rest or I might have lost you. And I’ve always felt it was my fault because I worried myself sick. We didn’t even have my income then. It was so hard on your father. He was working two jobs, sometimes three, just to make ends meet.”
“Mom.” Daniel wished now he’d asked these questions when he could see her, put his arms around her, tell her how much he loved her, no matter what. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s what your father always said. But I kept hearing my mother’s voice in my head. And I kept thinking that if I’d done things differently, then maybe it wouldn’t all be so difficult, so terrifying. After you were born, your father was the one who kept reminding me that if things hadn’t happened just as they did, we wouldn’t have you. That you might have been someone completely different. And I love you so much exactly the way you are.”
He felt her love. He always had. He’d just always believed that his parents had taken events in their stride. That they had each other and there were never any questions, never any secrets. No big bumps that might have destroyed them.
“Later,” she said, “when things were a little better, when both of us knew we had to have a bigger family, I was pregnant a couple of times. But I lost those babies. And it felt like punishment for running away from your father, for not trusting him enough to know he’d take care of us. Like I’d only ever have that one chance. Only with you.”
“Mom, please. You can’t blame yourself for the miscarriages.” But it did explain why his mother had steadfastly stood by Whitney during all three of hers, why she’d felt so much sympathy. Until Whitney’s terrible lies had come out. “And then you had Lyssa.”
“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand how the mind works sometimes. But everything was so different with Lyssa. We’d waited so long for her to come along. And I felt guilty about that too, as if somehow I’d betrayed you by feeling so much better about that pregnancy.”
“Mom,” he said, determined to make her see, “you’re way too hard on yourself. Remember what I said about Tasha, about her family? She blames herself, but all those things were beyond her control. It’s the same for you. You got pregnant out of wedlock and you did the best you could to deal with it. With me. You didn’t do anything terrible.”
In fact, she’d been admirable. She’d always been admirable. Just like Tasha, who thought of the misery of her father’s victims, who worried that her brother had been sucked into something he didn’t want, who blamed herself instead of the true culprits.
“Mom, you have to stop blaming yourself.”
His mother sighed as if her burden were as heavy now as it had been back then. “Your father has said the same thing for years. And truly, Bob was the one who helped me look on the bright side again. Without him, I don’t think I could have done it. But honestly, I thought I’d put it all behind me. But then when you were telling me about your quandary over Tasha, I realized I’d given you false expectations. That you believed everything had to be perfect. That the slightest mess meant nothing could work out. That love was no good if it wasn’t smooth sailing. But no relationship is smooth sailing all the time. The only thing that matters is that your father never gave up on me—and he showed me I didn’t have to give up on myself, or on us either. In the end, that’s the most important thing of all. It’s the lesson I wish I’d taught you.”
“It is the lesson I’ve learned. I love you. I love Dad. You’re both the greatest parents, with or without bumps along the way. And I’m not giving up on Tasha. Not ever. You taught me that, Mom. You and Dad. And you’ve also helped me see that no matter what, I can’t live without her.”
“Sweetheart, I love you so much.” His mom was openly crying now. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you sooner.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mom. I love you and Dad exactly the way you are.”
He wanted Tasha to forgive herself for what happened with her family, to accept that not everything had been her fault. The same was true for his mother, who had heaped guilt on herself all this time.
Daniel’s father had helped her move pa
st it. And he finally understood what he should have known all along: That was what true love was all about—not the absence of bumps, but how those bumps brought you closer together.
Now he just had to prove the same thing to Tasha.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I love you.
Tasha couldn’t believe he’d said it. She couldn’t believe she had too.
It was terrifying. But at the same time, it felt so right.
It absolutely had to be right. She couldn’t make another mistake.
Daniel hadn’t wasted any time taking her home with him to San Francisco. It seemed to have suddenly become his mission—to bring her into his work, into his life, to take her out of the mountains. And she would go anywhere he asked.
Yet during the four-hour drive, he’d seemed a bit pensive. Not like he was rethinking his declaration, but…something. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what. But the words and the feelings were so new between them—and leaving the mountains after a three-month, self-imposed exile was such a huge step—that she didn’t quite know how to ask him whether anything was wrong. She couldn’t seem to quiet her nerves. Still, she truly believed things would get easier.
Because being with Daniel was nothing short of miraculous.
They made two quick pit stops for the puppies, who traveled extremely well, especially when Tasha leaned back between the seats to talk to them through the bars of their crate. Once across the Bay Bridge, they soon arrived at Daniel’s renovated apartment building near Nob Hill, with its magnificent view of the Bay and Alcatraz. When the sun set, the city lights would be spectacular.
Daniel carried the puppies in the crate, and they took the express elevator to the penthouse, a luxury top-floor apartment straight out of a James Bond movie.
“It’s so beautiful, Daniel.” Even though beautiful felt like such a paltry word for this mind-blowing home.
The entry opened directly onto a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking sparkling blue waters, sailboats, Alcatraz, city streets, and even the Marin side of the Golden Gate Bridge. Brown leather furniture matched the hardwood floors and rosewood coffee and end tables. A monstrous TV hung on the wall opposite a massive fireplace, surrounded by wood shelves filled with books, statues, porcelain, and artwork. She didn’t know the artists, but it was all so tasteful it had to be hugely expensive. And were those two Ming vases in a display niche above the TV?
