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Silence reigned on his end.
“Drake, I need to tell you something.”
“That sounds ominous.” He didn’t sound pleased.
“I wouldn’t categorize it that way.”
“Have you come to your senses and want to leave me?” he breathed out.
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because, Charlotte, I’ve made your life a living hell having reporters following you and making you doubt yourself. And we both know what a prick I can be.”
“This is all true, but I love you. And our son needs you.”
“I do love it when he calls me Dad.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. And I remembered his watery eyes when Jameson first called him that over FaceTime, not long after Drake had left, which seemed like an eternity ago instead of a couple of weeks.
“Speaking of dads, I want to talk to you about yours.”
“Charlotte,” he groaned. “Please don’t push this. I promised you I would approach him when I was ready.”
I closed my eyes and scrunched my face. “I know, but . . .”
“But what?” There was an edge to his voice.
“Are you ever going to be ready? I don’t know if you can get ready for something like this,” I added.
“Can you just trust me?” I was clearly agitating him.
“I do trust you, but I also love you, and I don’t want you to keep hurting any longer than you have to—so, I called your dad,” I rushed to say.
“You did what?”
“I called your dad,” I stuttered.
In his silence I could hear him reining in a string of four-letter words.
“Drake,” I whispered. “I know you’re angry with me, but I’m okay with that because I know we’ll work it out—and someday, when you’ve worked through what you need to, we’re going to make up, and it’s going to be incredible. Like, life changing,” I purred, trying to add a little levity. Although I was serious, like a heart attack. I shivered, thinking about making up with him.
“Now you’re playing dirty,” he said, as sexy as can be.
“I’m not playing,” I said back, just as sexily.
“Damn, Charlotte,” he groaned.
“Now that you’re in the right frame of mind, you need to know that your dad misses you.”
“He said that?” A childlike quality laced his words.
“He’s stubborn like you and didn’t say those exact words, but he knew who I was. He knows about your life, or at least what he can gather from outside sources. And there’s something else.” I swallowed hard.
“What?” he was hesitant to ask.
“Drake, your parents stayed at the inn.”
“When? I don’t remember my parents taking any trips. My dad never left the farm.” He still sounded bitter about it.
“When you were seventeen. It was just for one night. But they were here, and they stayed in the honeymoon suite.”
“We slept in the same bed as my parents?” The thought seemed to mortify him.
“I doubt it was the same mattress, but that’s not really the most important thing here.”
“Why does it matter if they stayed there?”
“Because, Drake, it says your dad was trying and that he loved your family. And . . . Daisy put a heart next to their name.”
“A heart?” He was obviously confused.
I was both eager and hesitant to fill him in. “It meant she thought they were special, like us.”
“Charlotte, I love you, but what the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, since you love me,” I said snippily, “I guess I’ll explain.”
“I’m sorry for being grumpy. This is difficult for me.”
“I know that.” I softened my tone. “And I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m anxious to get on with our lives. But I know we can’t until you resolve your past.”
“Charlotte, I want to be with you and Jameson more than anything, so tell me about the hearts. Please,” he added.
“I think you just want to make up with me,” I teased.
“More than you know,” he crooned.
I cleared my throat and shook off the shiver. “Well,” I said soprano-style, feeling like I might need a cold shower. “Uh, hearts.” I was having a hard time focusing. All I could think about was being in Drake’s arms. “A heart was for soul mates.”
“Soul mates? My parents were like night and day.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“It didn’t seem to work well for them.”
“But you weren’t there when they fell in love. Do you know how they met?” I had a million questions.
“I’m afraid to tell you.”
I popped up in my chair. “Why?”
“Because I’m afraid it will lend credence to your wild theory.”
“That good, huh? Tell me,” I demanded in my scary voice. I got a laugh out of him at least.
“My mom hadn’t been divorced long and she was visiting some friends in Boise, trying to clear her head. She never could drive well in the snow, and she got stuck in a snowbank. My dad happened to be driving through and rescued her.” He hesitated.
