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I’m a woman on a mission. This is it.
I shut my car door, press the fob to lock the vehicle, and stare straight ahead at the gorgeous but unfamiliar home in front of me. The now-familiar strains of Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up” float through my head, crying out that, although we have a lot to learn, we’re worth it.
Today, I’ll find out if that’s true. I’ll figure out once and for all if anything Clint Holmes claims he felt for me in Maui was real.
Would he have sent me the ballad about persevering, along with the handful of other songs encouraging me to give our relationship another try if he wasn’t? It seems unlikely. He now has all the answers he sought about the Reed Financial scam. He got justice, too. What else could he want from me…except me?
No, Clint didn’t compile the song list he sent a few weeks ago. Keeley did; he admits that. But he swears he feels all these sentiments.
I never thought of music as therapy, but apparently it’s Keeley’s way of navigating difficult emotions. It seemed silly at first, but I see why now. I’ve picked every song apart. Sting’s “Fortress Around Your Heart” tells me he understands that he invented the battle between us inside his head and that he’s well aware his lies caused me to raise my defenses. Bryan Adams’s “Please Forgive Me” just melts my heart. How can I refuse a man who asks for forgiveness for loving me too much? Yesterday, “Dig” by Incubus was on high rotation. Yes, we all have a weakness that cleverly attaches and multiplies. I’m guilty, so I can’t blame him for not being perfect.
But do I dare trust him again?
Do I dare not try?
I haven’t been ready to tackle that question until now because the last three months have been hell. My final morning in Maui, I left Maxon and Keeley’s place with tears and hugs and promises to keep in touch, then I took a taxi to the hospital, helped Stephen through the discharge process, and settled him into the temporary rental he’s found. He had to be feeling better because he was already eyeing the property’s caretaker, a pretty blonde named Skye. Before I hopped on my red-eye back to LA that night, he told me I was crazy to run from Clint because that man loves me. I was too shell-shocked by everything that happened the night before to hear it.
A week after my father’s death, he was buried in San Diego. The service quickly became a nightmarish media circus. Thank goodness my siblings came, except Griff, who stayed behind with Britta for the birth of their second beautiful little boy, Grayson. But Maxon watched over me protectively. Harlow held my hand. Evan fended off the press.
My siblings came not to pay their respects to the man who sired us but to support me. I was beyond touched—and they haven’t wavered since. If one silver lining has come out of the multitude of Barclay’s lies and indiscretions, it’s my family. We’ve grown closer over the last few months, despite me being back in California now.
But I miss them. A lot.
During the funeral, Maxon also made sure that Linda, Barclay’s vengeful wife, didn’t get too close to me. Once she found out I had inherited everything remaining in Barclay’s estate and her boy-toy Marco left her for a wealthier sugar-mama, the woman threatened to kill me. Last month, she was found guilty of all charges in the Reed Financial scandal—conspiracy, aiding and abetting, money laundering. She’s going to prison for the rest of her life. None of my siblings seemed surprised or broken up about it. How sad that the woman who met this tragic end was such a horrible human being that none of her children even shed tears. Then again, being married to Barclay for thirty-five years probably warped her into someone as twisted and self-serving as he’d been.
Clint came to my dad’s funeral, too. That was the first—and only—time I’ve seen him since our breakup. I hoped laying eyes on him wouldn’t affect me. After all, he lied to me. He betrayed me. He coaxed me into laying my soul bare when he didn’t love me. But his expression as we stared at one another across the thirty feet that separated us said something very different. I felt him there, full of concern and remorse—and devotion I wanted to believe so badly it tore at my heart.
Still, how could I after his words and longing looks in Maui were all lies?
He sent a beautiful sympathy bouquet for the service. We talked afterward, but he didn’t press me. He didn’t touch me, either…though I secretly wished he had. Instead, he told me that if I wanted or needed him, he would come right away, no questions or expectations. Then he whispered that he loves me.
