“Okay. Why?”
“The Senator and I are close to a deal that could mean hundreds of millions more to our bottom line. It’s imperative that he leave tonight with a favorable view. To that end, I want you to keep an open mind.”
“About?”
“Colton has asked for my blessing to court you.”
“Tocourtme?”
“Yes. With an eye toward marriage. I thought that very old-fashioned and gentlemanly of him.”
“And you said yes,” I murmured, my hands going cold. “Colton can court me and someday we’ll get married.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Emery,” my father said, exasperated. “It’s a wonderful gesture and a lovely way to get to know him.”
I stared, incredulous, as alarm bells sounded in my heart. “I’m already married,” I blurted.
My father’s expression darkened. “We’re not to talk about that to the Harringtons. Not one word, do you understand? That was a foolish, impulsive thing you did, and we’re going to undo it next week.”
My gaze drifted to our front door.
Why? Expecting Xander to bust through it on a white horse and rescue you?
No one was coming. I was trapped in this quagmire and would either drown or haul myself out. Fear gripped me. Paralyzed me. I couldn’t stay but leaving meant exile. Danger to Xander. I’d stood frozen for what felt like forever when my mother called me from the top of the stairs.
“Emery, can you help me with my dress?”
I nodded absently and followed her into her bedroom, which had once been a large guest room. She’d taken it over after Grant died, and it had become another room Jack and I rarely ventured into. It was dim, the curtains closed, the bed unmade. Prescription medication bottles and wine glasses littered the nightstand, and the air was tinged with perfume and stale wine.
“Please, sit.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her go to her closet. She came back with a small wooden box—blond oak with flowers carved into the top. She sat beside me, the box in her lap, grief etched on her face and fear in her eyes. I felt tension in her thin body like an electric current.
“I’m sorry, Emery. I’m sorry so for many things…hundreds of things, going back years. I failed all my children, Grant especially.” Her breath shook. “I failed him in the worst, most final way.”
I stared, hearing my brother’s name on her lips for the first time since he died.
“And I failed you.” She turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed and shining. “When you were born, I felt like I could see the future—your father’s plans, even if I didn’t know the details. I tried to protect youbecause you were this ball of sunshine and joy. You loved to dance and hugged every stranger. I’d been like that once too, before I married your father.”
“Mom, why are you telling me this?”
“Because Emery, your happiness, your joy…it was almost too beautiful to witness. So when these arrived for you, I hid them away.”
My mother opened the box. A small sound escaped me. Inside was a stack of torn-open letters, bound with string. She placed them in my lap. Tears filled my eyes as I read my name in neat, boyish handwriting, and my fingers trembled as I pulled the first letter from its envelope.
Dear Emery,
Hello! This is Xander. We met at the park two days ago, and I wanted to write right away so that you know that I remembered your address and so you don’t think I’ve forgotten you…
A sob tore out of me. I rifled through the envelopes—there were at least thirty—my name and address on the front written in neater and more precise handwriting as Xander grew older.
I whipped my head up, tears streaming, to see my mother’s eyes spilling over too.
“You had them this whole time?” I choked.
She nodded. “I knew—from the very first letter—that this boy was special. Whoever he was, you had connected very deeply. Even after the terrible news about Grant, you had a different kind of happiness glowing in you, and it broke my heart to hear you ask your father if you had any mail.”
I shook my head, shielding the letters from my tears. “God, Mom. I wanted these so bad. Why did you keep them from me?”
