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She sucks in a breath. “And you think that makes him right?” I hear her tut and imagine her rolling her eyes at me. Again. “I remember on the day I resigned from TBA, you questioned why I wouldn’t stay, and I told you that, after your father died, I knew it was time for me to leave. You interpreted that as my loyalty to him, and in part, it was. I felt a duty to your father to see things through… because I loved him. Mostly, though, I needed to go because it was time for you to run the company your way, without the influences of the past clouding your judgment. It was time for you to step out from his shadow.”
“Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“Livia told me exactly the same thing.”
“Then she was right. You are not your father, Hunter. I loved him, even when I knew I probably shouldn’t, but you are a far better man than he could ever have been. You don’t have a brutal bone in your body.”
“I think Livia might disagree with you about that. I was vile to her yesterday.”
“Then apologize.”
“You think an apology will be enough?”
“It’s a place to start.”
“And if she won’t forgive me?”
“Then apologize again… and again. She’s good for you. Make it right, Hunter… whatever it takes.”
Whatever it takes…
Doreen’s words are still rolling around my head… and not just the ones about me and Livia. I might have known the bones of the story about her and my dad, but now there’s some flesh to them, I have to admit, I’m surprised. I’d never thought my father was capable of love, but I think he must have loved Doreen, in his own way. Hearing that he’d refused to leave our mother was a surprise, and I can’t make any sense of it. I would have thought he’d welcome the chance. As for the fact that he asked Doreen to move in with him, that was a revelation. Although I can’t help wondering if her refusal may have fueled his resentment of us. He’d never have perceived that he, or his behavior, might have been the reason she said ‘no’, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d believed his children had stood in the way of his happiness with Doreen. Still, I guess I’ll never know now.
I’ve already decided to keep all of that to myself, though. Especially the parts surrounding Ella’s conception. There’s no way I want to risk her finding out she was the result of a moment of ‘drunken madness’, so the fewer people who know, the better.
As for what Doreen said about Livia… I know she’s right. Livia was good for me. That has to be true, because if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t feel so lost without her.
I might not know who she is yet – not for sure – but that doesn’t alter the fact that I love her, or that I need to apologize. I was brutal with her yesterday, and that’s not who I am. It can’t be… not if both Doreen and Drew say so.
Personally, I’m still having my doubts.
The thought of what I’ve done, of Livia crying in the parking garage, of the fact that I caused that… that I broke her, it all weighs too heavily on my mind, and I leap to my feet, pocketing my phone and grabbing my keys as I run to the elevator, stepping inside the moment the doors open.
I’m pretty sure Livia’s going to slam the door in my face. I wouldn’t blame her if she did, but I’ll have to keep trying. There are questions that need answering. I need to know who she is, whether she’s Ken Bevan’s daughter, and why she came to work for me.
If I’m right, and there was some kind of conspiracy, we need to talk… Livia, and me, and maybe her dad, too. They need to tell me what was behind it all, and whatever it is, she and I need to find a compromise… a way through it.
If I’m wrong, I need to spend the rest of my life making it up to her… assuming she’ll let me.
I park outside her apartment and head straight in, taking the stairs two at a time, until I get to her floor, and rush down the hall to her door. Once outside, I hesitate for just a moment or two, taking a couple of deep breaths, and then I knock.
There’s no reply, so I knock again… and again.
The silence is deafening. She’s not home.
I turn, leaning back against the door. I hadn’t anticipated this, and I don’t know what to do. Where can she be? Grocery shopping? It’s possible. She wouldn’t have had any food here, although she’d probably have gone out yesterday afternoon and done that… unless…
I let my head drop.
Of course…
She’ll have gone home. It’s what Livia would do. She’ll be hurting, thanks to me, and going home would be a natural reaction for her.
What I don’t know is exactly where ‘home’ is. Falmouth may be a small town, according to Livia, but I can’t just drive up there and hope to find her. Fortunately, our personnel files are stored electronically, and I can access them remotely through my phone. I saunter down the stairs and back to my car, while logging in to the company’s system, and wait while it brings up the files.
They’re listed alphabetically, so I scroll down to ‘H’, which is another reminder that Livia’s surname isn’t Bevan. I refuse to read anything in to that, though, and click on her file, waiting while it opens.
