“Your father paid attention to me on the nights his wife took her pills and went to bed early or any night when he’d had a few too many drinks. I’m ashamed to admit that I was flattered, at the time, to draw the attention of such a rich, successful man.”
Her face fell, but I didn’t blame her for that part at all. Truth be told, I didn’t blame her for any of it. My father was a monster, and she likely didn’t have much option to refuse even if she’d wanted to. I understood that all too well. But I still wanted her version of the story.
“And you got pregnant?”
She shook her head before a choked sound escaped. “First, his wife fell pregnant and I was assigned the nanny position. By then he was regularly coming into my room at night, and I was too scared to tell him no because a lot of the time he was cruel. His attention wasn’t fun for me any longer.”
Again, no surprise on my side with this information.
“I got pregnant just after his wife gave birth. I hid it for many months, and thankfully, no one was the wiser. Your father had stopped coming to me by then, too busy with his child… his heir. It was an obsession for him, having the perfect heir.”
I snorted. “Hence why the bastard was so angry to be left with me when my sister died.”
Her face fell. “He was angry with you?”
She seemed genuinely surprised by this.
“My father hated me,” I told her shortly. “If he could have murdered me in my sleep, he would have, but he needed me alive too badly.”
“No,” she gasped as a tear fell down her cheek. “He promised me you’d have the best life, one of privilege and gifts the rest of us could only pray for.” Her voice got louder. “I only walked away because he made two promises to me. One: you would be a true heir, treated like a member of the family. He had his bad moments with me, no doubt, but I’d seen how he doted on your sister. I was so sure he would love you…” Since my father was a monster, he probably had loved me to the best of his ability. The motherfucker.
“And two: I was allowed to leave that bear with my favorite lullaby for you. He was never to throw it away.” She looked pleadingly. “I wanted you to have a piece of me, and I grieved every day without you.” She was crying now, and honestly, I was about to throw this fucking bench through the ceiling.
“The facade he showed the world was not the real life we lived behind closed doors,” I told her softly, “and you shouldn’t blame yourself. He manipulated more people than you’ve probably ever met.”
She shook her head. “I should have fought harder. I was just young and stupid, and he had a team of lawyers to fight me. They painted the picture so vividly. By the time they were done chewing me up, I’d have been homeless and destitute, he wouldstillhave you, and you’d be suffering for my defiance for the rest of your life.”
He’d have destroyed her. I knew that for sure, and he definitely could have made my life worse. Things couldalwaysbe worse.
“It’s not your fault,” I repeated. “And I honestly can’t believe you're here. Alive. He told me you’d died.”
She didn’t seem surprised by this, her laughter dark and cynical. “He generously set me up in a job with an associate of his. But when the lady of that house decided I was too pretty, too tempting for her lecherous husband I was fired. Then I ended up here. The Lawson’s were good to me, but since they died, I’ve had to fight to stay with Brooklyn. She needed someone to protect her, and I did the best I could.”
“For that I owe you,” I said, and then I abruptly stood, pretty much done with the conversation. “And I’m glad to know you’re not buried in the backyard of the Grant estate.”
She seemed lost for words, her mouth opening and closing as her eyes shone with unshed tears.
I placed my hand on her arm, the first time we’d touched, and damn, if I didn’t get all fucked up again from the truth of this moment. “Don’t carry this burden, Mary. If you had fought harder, he would have destroyed you. That you survived to love the only woman I’ve ever loved means everything to me.”
Lifting my hand, I turned to walk away, needing time to process it all fully. I felt more at peace though. I’d needed this closure. This moment. It was a piece of unfinished business that I could finally let rest.
“Dylan,” she called out.
I paused, turning back to see her looking small and helpless. “Yes?”
She cleared her throat. “Will you share a cookie with me?”
Fuck. That might do me in, but not even I could dash that small sliver of hope that was peering at me through her expressive eyes. My expressive eyes. Like that wasn’t fucking weird.
“Yeah, sure. I could do that.”
I made my way back, sat next to her, and grabbed one of the thick chocolate chip cookies that rested on the plate. The first bite had me groaning. “Fuck, that’s a damn good cookie.”
“Language,” she said again, and I almost laughed. It was a little late for the mothering, but it was amusing none-the-less.
We were silent after that, just the sound of chewing, but oddly, it wasn’t as awkward as I’d expected.
“I’d like to have a relationship with you,” she finally said, placing down the other half of her cookie. “I know that’s probably asking too much, but all I’ve had over the years were news articles and magazines to know about you, and I… I’d like more.”
