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Andrew’s face darkened. “My mother hurt him. He’d be furious with me for saying this, but he’s not over it.”
“Must have been pretty terrible. How long ago did they split?” I set my fork down on my plate.
“I was seven.” Pain slashed across his face. “He loved her more than anything.” He shook his head. “No, he loved Holt, Marlow, and me more than anything. He proved that by raising us.”
“Your mother didn’t help?”
At the fury on his face, I regretted the question. Mr. Dixon wasn’t the only one hurting over this woman. Andrew was too.Was this why he wanted me to check in on Marlow?
His gaze was steely when he looked at me. “The day after Holt was born, she walked out on us. Told my dad she couldn’t do it. She was in love with another man.”
I clapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t want to judge, but I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I gave up my baby girl for a man. For anything.
“She never tried to have anything to do with us after that. No calls. No birthday gifts. She left Dad to take care of three little kids while he had a broken heart. And he did a hell of a job.”
“You’re all tough. You had each other.”
“I’ve never told anyone that other than my friend Patrick.” He shoved his plate away and leaned back in his chair.
I bolted from mine and flung my arms around him. He sat stiffly for a moment before wrapping his arms around me and burying his face against my neck.
“I can see how you wouldn’t get over that.” I stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head. “I understand how it feels to be abandoned.”
He held me tight for a long time. Finally, he looked up at me, his eyes glassy. “Please don’t cheat on me.”
A lump formed in my throat. As much as I didn’t want to, I had to tell him about the husband I couldn’t divorce. Not until I was certain he couldn’t hurt Ella or me again. But Andrew deserved that piece of the truth.
“I wouldn’t. But I-I’m—” The words came out scratchy. The end of the sentence was lodged in my throat. “Andrew, I’m mar—”
His cell phone rang, drowning out the rest of my confession.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Andrew
“What?”
I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, but the look on Trish’s face told me I needed to.
“You should answer that.” She pointed toward the pocket in my shirt and glanced away.
“It can wait.” My fingers dug into her back to get her attention. The notches of her spine were prominent. There was no fat on her body. I’d never seen her in anything other than a T-shirt or something that hid her figure. I could tell she was slender, but she bordered on too thin. I had a feeling it wasn’t by choice.
Silence permeated the kitchen. Trish refused to look at me. My cell rang again.
“Answer it,” she said softly.
On a heavy sigh, I pulled the phone from my pocket. “This better be good, Whitley.”
“You saved my ass, man. Thanks to you, I got that bastard out on bond.”
“You’ll understand if I don’t say congratulations,” I said dryly. Trish wriggled out of my arms. Instantly, I missed her heat.
“You home? I’m coming by for a drink.” There was trepidation in his tone. I imagined his need to win and succeeding in this case warred with his morals.
“Not a good time.”
“You’re with someone. About damn time.” He actually sounded elated on my behalf. “Did you take her to your place?”
