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“Shit.” I grit my teeth. This story was getting uglier by the minute.
He rubbed his neck. “It was a horrible time. And being a tight-knit community, everyone talked about it. It was fucking awful, to be honest.”
“I bet.” I released a tight breath. “Did you feel responsible for her suicide?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps I should have given her more reassurance. But I really wasn’t ready to marry her or anyone. I don’t know. Her mother also killed herself. Mental illness ran in the family. I’d seen it first-hand with Jasmine.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
He exhaled. “There was little I could’ve done, to be honest, other than reassure her that she would be well provided for.”
“Is that why you want to help troubled youth?”
He stared out to space. “On a subconscious level, perhaps.” He took a deep breath and turned to look at me. “While we’re on this subject of our pasts. My mother tells me that she got a call from your mother, requesting your phone number.”
I winced at this jarring switch from him to me. With so much going on, I’d buried that recent gut-wrenching experience.
“Your mother doesn’t know your number?” His shocked tone made me jittery. A reminder of how bad my relationship with her was.
“When I changed it, I never told her.” I looked down at my feet. “She called me out of the blue. It was the first time since I left home.”
“But you left home years ago.” The furrows in his brow deepened.
“Yeah, well…” I clasped my hands and scratched my thumbnail. “She never called me for my birthday or Christmas. Ever. She completely ignored me.”
He splayed his hands. “So why now?”
“That’s what I asked her.” I sniffed. “Apparently, she’d seen an image of us together, looking all loved up at the boot camp opening. It was all over the media. And you being wealthy piqued her curiosity, I suppose.”
“So did you just talk over the phone?”
“Nope. I caught up with her in London.”
I pictured that afternoon, meeting at a café close to Harrods, her favourite shopping destination. While sipping tea, like distant acquaintances, not mother and daughter, we exchanged courteous pleasantries as I struggled to maintain a façade of civility. My instincts were to go all feral and heap abuse at her. However painful, I resisted that urge and continued the charade.
As I kissed her cool cheek, I told myself I would never contact this woman again.
I gave her a chance. All I needed was an apology, or some acknowledgement of how she regretted neglecting me as a child, but she seemed more caught up on talking about the Lovechildes and their impressive wealth.
“Something else came up in that discussion.” I bit my lip, as I recalled my mother’s unblinking glare while conveying how Declan had threatened my stepfather. “Why didn’t you tell me you met him?” I frowned.
He shrugged. “To protect you. I met up with him and warned him to stay away or else.”
“Or else?” My jaw dropped. “But why not tell me?”
“Because this was before we’d even started seeing each other. I know I overstepped the mark, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I saw the distress in your face. I wish you’d press charges.”
I remained frozen. The thought of that horrible man talking to the love of my life made my skin crawl. “I can’t go through that. I can’t even face seeing him.” My voice cracked.
He walked over to me and embraced me. His warmth ironing out the horrors that had crept through me at the mention of that ugly man.
After a few minutes, my body calmed, and I stepped away from him.
“So have you made up with your mother? I’d like to meet her,” he said, his eyes softening and my heart melting in response.
“It’s not going to happen.” I knitted my fingers to ease the tremor. “I can’t stand her.”
“You need to resolve that, sweetheart. Spiteful anger can be corrosive. She is your mother.”
