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Too right she was.
“I’d never threaten to take her away from you.”
She crossed her arms. “Funny, because that’s how it sounded.”
His fingers twitched as though he wanted to grab her, but he didn’t.
Good choice.
“I’m being 100 percent honest with you,” he said, frustration tightening his jaw. “I swear. I’d never come between a mother and daughter, or put a child’s happiness at risk. Any child’s.”
Bex’s spine started to soften so she reinforced it with all of the anger she’d bottled up over the years—and there was plenty of it to go around. “Then leave us alone. We’re happy without you in our lives.” He flinched, and she felt like a bitch but there was no taking it back. “Having the Briggstons around isn’t going to make anything better for Izzy.”
“Please.” His voice was soft. Coaxing. The kind of murmur she wouldn’t mind hearing in her ear late at night under different circumstances. “Let me spend time with her. Only me. I’m not asking for the world, just a little rope.”
She opened her mouth to refuse, but closed it before she said anything that would have him calling a family lawyer. They both knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on, legally speaking. It didn’t matter that she and her community had raised Izzy without help from Wesley. In the eyes of the law, he was her father and that gave him certain rights. Rights she didn’t want him to know he had, let alone choose to exercise. But who was she kidding? Her peaceful existence was over. Michael had never stood against Wesley for long, and it wouldn’t be long before he felt compelled to share the news.
As if sensing her indecision, he moved closer and cupped her elbow. “I’m not a bad person, Bex. Let me prove that to you.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she shook him off. She couldn’t handle gentleness right now, or the dam of emotion inside her would burst. God, what was wrong with her? Before today, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d cried since Izzy had been born. She didn’t have the luxury of breaking down. She had bills to pay and a daughter to raise.
So, what were her options? If she allowed Michael to see Izzy, it might delay him calling Wesley. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. Did it even matter anymore? At most, she’d buy a little time. Everything was going to change. But if she had to stand in court one day and defend herself, she’d like to be able to say that she’d tried to accommodate the Briggstons rather than being unreasonable straight out of the gate.
Feeling utterly defeated, outplayed by a smarter opponent, she nodded. “We’re going to the Winter Wonderland Fair at the Glamping Ground tomorrow. You can come with us if you’d like.” She didn’t meet his eyes. If she looked at him, she’d cry.
He released an audible breath. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Her lip wobbled, and she fastened her teeth onto it, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t so lucky.
“Hey, now.” Impossibly, his tone softened further. “What’s the matter?”
“Everything.” The word tore from her with a sob. His kindness was worse than his threats. It was going to undo her.
“I’m not as bad as all that, am I?” His fingers brushed her upper arm, and she jerked away like he’d burned her.
Still refusing to look up and reveal the redness of her eyes, she backed away from him. “Come by tomorrow at 10 a.m. If you’re late, we’ll go without you.” Then she scooted out the door, crossed the hall, and hid in the office opposite his, sinking to the floor, her head spinning from everything that had passed between them. She counted off a minute, then pulled herself together, and left.
When she letherself into her parents’ home, Bex could hear the TV in the living room and the sizzle of a frying pan in the kitchen. She opted to head to the kitchen, figuring Izzy would be occupied by her favorite after school TV shows. Her mouth watered, and the smell of chicken and lemongrass brought back soothing memories of her childhood. Her mother’s cooking was better than most, and her chicken and vegetable stir fry was Bex’s favorite.
“Hi again,” she said as she entered the open plan kitchen and dining area. Noting the kettle was steaming and must have recently boiled, she went to it and made two mugs of tea, then took them to the dinner table. She slid one mug to her mother, who pulled out the chair beside her.
“Something is wrong,” Lita said, perceptive as ever. She patted Bex’s hand. “What is it, my darling?”
The reassuring touch almost started Bex along the road to breakdown, but she summoned every bit of strength she had. “When will Dad be home? I need to talk to you both.”
“It’s serious?”
“Very.”
“I’ll call him now and ask him to come home.” She glanced at the plain white clock hanging beside the door frame. “He’s supervising at the building site this afternoon. The men can get by without him.”
Gratitude nearly pushed her to tears. This day had been far too emotional and she wasn’t sure how long she could hold out without venting to someone. “Thank you.”
While Lita made the call, Bex stirred their dinner and checked on Izzy to make sure she was settled. When her father’s truck crunched up the drive, Izzy bolted down the hall and waited at the front door, launching herself into his arms the moment he stepped inside. Bex followed.
“Grandpa!”
Paul Cane stumbled back a step. “Easy there, tiger.”
