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Slowly he turned to face her. “Then whatisshe doing?”
“Your mother shows love with gifts. She brought me a dress for that dinner you and I had.”
Pinkness tinged her cheeks. He knew she was thinking of their kiss in the street afterward, just like he was.
“I call that bribery.”
Everleigh laid a hand on his arm. He froze, wanting to shrug off the comfort she offered and yet not wanting to lose her touch.
“People show love in different ways. I don’t want to break your mother’s confidence, but she feels guilty over whatever happened between you two.”
He counted to five, forcing his muscles to relax as he regained control. “When I was three years old my mother became pregnant. With a little girl. The last three months of the pregnancy were hard. She went into the hospital and I thought she was coming back with my sister. She came back alone.”
Before Everleigh could spout words of condolence, he turned away again and walked over to a myrtle hedge, his eyes fixated on the fountains that sent arcs of water up into the air before splashing down into the pond.
This had been one of his favorite places as a child. The soothing sound of the fountains had eased some of his pain as he’d sat on the walkway and watched the water for hours. How ironic that his place of refuge should now play host to him confessing his deepest pain.
He didn’t have to. Everleigh wouldn’t push. But he needed her to understand—needed her to hear his side, not just his mother’s version.
“The loss of her child sent my mother into depression. For months she just lay in bed. I can’t imagine what that loss did to her. But...” His throat grew thick. “I’d been happy. I thought our family was going to grow. And instead I lost both my mother and my sister. My mother acted like she could barely stand to be around me. I was three and she just...left.”
The fountains continued to play their relaxing melody, the joyful sound a stark contrast to the thunderous cloud of emotions building in his chest.
“Abuela became my caregiver. She helped ease a lot of the pain. When my mother became pregnant with Alejandro she remained on bedrest until she gave birth. I would go into her room in the mornings, kiss her on the cheek, and then spend the rest of my day with Abuela.”
He didn’t stop to see if Everleigh was still listening. He looked up at the covered mezzanine on the other side of the courtyard, where the stone archways were lit up like jewels by the last fingers of sunlight clinging to the horizon.
“Alejandro was born. Then, soon after, she was pregnant with Antonio and again on bedrest. Aside from my morning kiss on the cheek and the occasional meal, I hardly saw my mother for years. She only started paying attention to me after Abuela died. By that time I barely had any idea who she was.”
Silence reigned behind him.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his throat growing tight. “Maybe that’s why I made excuses during my time with Nicole. I just wanted...”
The words wouldn’t come out. Even though he’d admitted it to himself, the thought of saying out loud what he had truly been seeking made him feel so cowardly, so weak and desperate.
“To be loved?” Everleigh whispered.
The words hit him so hard he could barely breathe. Invisible fingers squeezed his chest, tightening around his lungs as the truth lingered in the air.
“Nicole didn’t just play me. She lied to me. When I broke things off and she was begging me to reconsider she told me she was pregnant.”
He could still feel the curl of his lip over his teeth, feel that hard rock settle in the pit of his stomach as years of suppressed fury had taken hold of him and he’d ordered her out of his room, out of the house, and out of his life.
“My mother lost a daughter. I lost my mother. To hear a woman throw around something so valuable, so important as a child, as a way to manipulate me...” His nails dug into his palms. “I saw in her face almost immediately that it was a lie. I hated her. In that moment I hated her so much. I’d allowed myself to feel just the slightest bit of affection for her, and all it led to was pain.”
He’d wanted—needed—to grab something, to break it and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. And he’d despised that feeling...knowing he wasn’t in control.
“Adrian.”
The sound of his name on Everleigh’s lips slid over him—a soothing balm to his pain. He breathed in deeply, the perfume of bougainvillea flowers and Everleigh’s scent filling him and easing his fury enough that he was able to rein himself in.
Slowly, he turned. Everleigh stood right behind him, her beautiful face lit by the garden lights. Her lips were parted, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Don’t cry for me. It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. Sometimes I’ll see something, hear something that reminds me of my mother’s death, or my father burying himself in his grief. It still smarts.”
It made Adrian furious even to think about seventeen-year-old Everleigh alone, heartbroken and scared. Richard might have made amends for his past behavior, but it didn’t stop the rush of anger. Why did parents have to cause their children so much pain?
