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Did Devlyn cut his father off because of his mother? Because of me?
“I’m not sure what to say.”
It’s the truth. I have no clue what to tell this man. I don’t make decisions for Devlyn. And from what he has told me about his parents, he didn’t really make his own decisions until he left home. Even then, his mother still directed part of the narrative.
But I won’t do that. Ever. Nor will I let his parents disrupt all the progress he has made with countless hours of therapy. Therapy no person should have to endure. Not for this.
“You don’t need to say anything.” He rocks back on his heels again and I realize this must be a nervous action for him. “I truly am sorry for how Devlyn’s mother has behaved. Toward him and you.”
“All due respect, Mr. Templar, you shouldn’t be apologizing for her.” I give him a tight, uncomfortable smile. “And I’m not sure if an apology will ever make up for the damage she has done.”
An odd flutter erupts in my belly and, without thinking, I lay a hand on my lower abdomen. The second I do, his eyes drop and land on my hand. Immediately, I shift and tuck my hands in my back pockets.
But it is too late. The deed is done. I see it in the widening of his eyes. Hear it in his loud swallow.
His eyes lift to mine and I watch as they glass over. As recognition truly sets in. As this man realizes I am carrying his grandchild, someone he may never meet because of his wife.
“It’s not your place, Shelly, but will you please ask Devlyn to call or text me?” He blinks back the tears rimming his eyes. “I won’t say anything” —his eyes drift to my belly for a breath— “to his mother about…”the baby. I see the words in his eyes. A proclamation he won’t voice, maybe to protect the baby and Devlyn.
“I will make mention, but not any promises.” My eyes hold his. “Devlyn makes his own choices. If he wants to speak with you, that is his decision to make. His voice has been stolen from him for too many years. I won’t do the same.”
James nods as he rolls his lips between his teeth. “Thank you, Shelly.” He takes a step back and removes his hands from his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I hope to know you one day. From what I can tell, you’re a good person. I’m happy my son has you.”
Every cell in my body wants to thank this man for the kind sentiment, but I stop myself. Clamp my lips tight and refuse to grant him gratitude. Not when he has enabled his wife’s cruelty toward Devlyn his entire life. Thanking this man wipes away all the harm he caused by not stepping up for his own child. Thanking this man would imply compliments and recognition diminish the pain his wife—and by proxy, him—inflicted.
I won’t grant him such kindness. Not because I, too, am cruel. But because I love Devlyn. Unconditionally. I stand by him, through the hurt and happiness. Through the tears and laughter.
When it dawns on James I have nothing more to say, he nods, takes a step back, pivots away, and ambles toward the door. “Hope we meet again, Shelly.” He glances one last time at my belly, gives me a pained smile, then leaves.
I wander to the door and stare out the glass to watch him drive away. He slips behind the wheel of a white BMW sedan, lifts a hand when he notices me watching, then backs out.
My hand goes to my ponytail, my fingers toying with the strands as I continue to look outside. Watching. Waiting. Praying for no more surprises. Although this one isn’t half as bad as the previous surprises, it still unsettles me.
James Templar may be nothing like his wife, but he still hurt his son. Making up for all he and his wife have done will take a heck of a lot more than one conversation in Petal and Vine. It will take drastic measures. A larger-than-life change.
For Devlyn’s sake, I hope he gets to keep at least one parent. Without the influence of his wife, James Templar may be a good man. A man worthy of being a grandfather to our child. A man Devlyn might look up to in the future.
SIXTEEN
DEVLYN
“Your dad stoppedby the shop today.”
My fork hovers between my plate and mouth as I process what Shelly just said. Slowly, I set my fork down and swallow. Let her words sink in.
My father was in Petal and Vine today.
Why?
“Are you okay?” I don’t need my father stirring up my mother’s wasp nest of activity and upsetting Shelly.
“Yeah,” she says on a nod. “He was kind.”
This doesn’t come as a surprise. My father never had a mean bone in his body. He also lost his backbone standing beside my mother.
“What did he want?”
“To meet me, and to ask me to ask you if you’d call or text him.”
