“I was hurt in the beginning,” she says, looking down at her lap, where she’s habitually rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. She catches herself, stops, flattens her hands over her skirt. There are more wrinkles than I remember. “Can I be honest? I think we’re both old enough for it now.”
I nod and prepare myself.
“It made it harder, that your father and I separated amicably. If I hated him, I could have blamed him for taking you away from me. But I didn’t. And if I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t blame you, all that left was the hurt and a distance between us I’ve been attempting to bridge ever since.”
A few years ago, I would have argued this point. What good were her intentions if they never reached me? We should have had this conversation years ago.
But I’m as much to blame as anyone. “I know I haven’t made it easy for you.”
She offers me an understanding smile. “No, but I’m proud of you for that. And I’m proud of you for the choice you made. I know how much it meant to your father, and despite my hurt, I’ve always been glad knowing that you were together, looking after each other.”
“Keeping an eye on each other, you mean.” I rub at my jaw, the scratch of new growth telling me it’s not just a haircut I’m overdue for. Though I suspect Ivy will have some opinions on both, if last night (and this morning) is any indication.
Mum raises her hand to my cheek, a move she used to employ when I’d messed up. I suppose she felt it softened the blow of her disappointment. But this time, it comes with undisguised humor. It reminds me so much of Darcy, I almost want to laugh. “Lincoln, I mean this with love, but you are, and have always been, your father’s son. I knew the moment he held you that I was in trouble.”
Perhaps trouble is all I’ve ever been. “It would have been easier if I was more sensible, like Reed.”
Shetsks. “Reed is too sensible for his own good. He could learn a thing or two from you, frankly. We all can. Darling, you’re exactly who you’re meant to be. Yourself. We’ve all made missteps, and the best of us learn from them. You need to give yourself more credit. So does your brother.”
It’s more than I ever expected to hear, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at the awful painted foam stuck on the wall while my heart does something complicated in my chest.
She stares at me the way only a mother can, with absolute authority. “I don’t see why you’re so intent on misreading how much we care about you. But that hasn’t stopped us yet, and love, nothing will.”
Perhaps. If I am guilty of getting it wrong, of only seeing what I was set on believing and nothing else, we’ve lost a lot of time.
To her credit, Mum quickly hides her surprise when I hug her, pressing a gentle squeeze to my shoulders before pulling back. As a kindness, I won’t bring up the tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” I say. “I needed to hear that.”
CHAPTER52
CAT’S OUT
LINCOLN
Kyle hobbles into the dining room at dinner, exaggerating his injury like he’s playing the World Cup. No one’s seen him since breakfast, and I’d hoped Ivy and I could get through our last night without his smug face ruining it.
The meal is an exercise in patience. It’s hard to believe that I once thought Deacon’s parties were excruciating, an excuse for him to puff himself up and lord over us all for three days straight. They’re a walk in the park compared to this.
Richard seems intent on making us dread every second we’re here, like some ridiculous comeuppance for being denied his “rightful inheritance.” As if we aren’t all sitting in the multimillion-dollar estate he was left.
Joe looks like he’s regretting being alive for any of it. If I thought Art could lie convincingly, Joe surely would have faked his death by now. A few times over, most likely.
If tonight gets any worse, I might have to join him.
Beside me, Ivy is coiled tight with tension, her thigh clenched under my palm. Kyle is sneering across the table with so much intention it sets my blood on fire.
Then he clears his throat and stands, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, my hens have come home to roost. “I know it’s customary on the last night for the birthday boy to make a speech,” he says, pasting on his gummy smile. “But I’m hoping you won’t mind if I say a few words instead.”
“I already said I don’t need to bother with all that,” Joe grumbles.
Kyle ignores him, victory in his eyes. “Trust me, you want to hear this.”
There are a few wants I have that are nonnegotiable. Ivy, happy and by my side, preferably forever; that’s number one. My family in good health is another. A single fish & chip shop in this damn country that can make a proper chippy; absolutely crucial.
But in this moment, I can’t think of anything I want more than to not hear what Kyle says next.
“This weekend is supposed to be about commitment to this family, but someone here has done nothing but lie to every single one of us, and I’m here to set the record straight.”
“Just get on with it,” I growl, but I know he won’t. He’s enjoying this too much.
