CHAPTER TWO
NICK
I carriedthe letter to the sofa in the lounge and started to go through it... again. Unbeknownst to Mads—or maybe not, considering how spookily he read me—I’d been going over the damn thing almost daily.
As I pulled the sheaf of pages from the envelope, I felt the heat of Mads’ gaze from the kitchen where he was cleaning up and doing a piss-poor job of pretending to ignore me. But knowing he was there, loving me, and willing to have my back at every turn, made all the difference in the world.
My hands shook as they always did when I caught sight of that neat cursive style. So much my mother. So... real. Part of me railed in fury at the woman for having the power to affect me like that after all those years. Another part, the one I couldn’t seem to quash no matter how hard I tried, teared up at the tangible reminder of her actual presence in the world. Not dead after all. Not living her life pretending I didn’t exist or refusing to take accountability for what she’d done. She’d been hurting, too, if her words were to be believed.
Dearest Nick,
I want to call you son but I have no right, I know that. Especially after what I did. Please believe me when I say that leaving you that day broke my heart and I’ll always regret not being able to take you with me. Not forcing it as I should have. I did what no mother thinks they ever could. Being scared was no excuse, and I’ll live with that decision the rest of my life.
I’ve been the cause of so much pain, and writing this letter is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I started and stopped more times than you can imagine. I still don’t know if I’ve done the right thing, I just know that I’m getting older.
If you’re interested, I’d love for us to meet, or simply talk with you, if you’d rather keep it to that. I’m not looking for understanding or forgiveness. Lord knows I don’t deserve those. But I would like to talk with you, even if only once. I’d like to try and explain what I can, something other than what he’s fed you over the years.
Maybe you have questions that I can answer. After all this time, that’s the least I can do. And if that’s all you want, then I won’t press for more.The decision of where we go from here, if anywhere, is completely up to you.
My contact details are at the top of the page. If I don’t hear from you, then I wish you all the very best for your life. You are a talented and precious man. I loved you the day I walked away and I have loved you every day since. If I could change it all, I would. Unfortunately, I can’t, and so I am stuck with trying to make up for what I did the only way I know how. By offering you a chance to talk, if you want it.
All my love,
Chloe
The very idea of seeing my mother again after forty-seven years was doing my fucking head in. From the day I received the letter, my life was suddenly teetering on the edge of a monumental change I wasn’t at all sure I wanted. But it was one I couldn’t simply walk away from either. Mads had nailed it on the head when he’d asked in a roundabout way if I could really walk away from answers I’d sought all my life.
That was the decision I faced. The unfair position I’d been put in. The impossible choice.
I’d adapted to life with a mother-shaped hole in it. Accepted an apparent searing indifference from someone who should’ve been there for me. A painful chasm in my life that I’d filled with rage and control and walls thick enough to keep everyone away. Lost years. Lonely years. It had made me who I was.That was until Davis walked into my life and resurrected my heart in a miracle I didn’t deserve. And after Davis? Mads. A second bloody miracle. The pain and grief softened both times, but echoes of them still framed my life. Always waiting for that important someone to walk away. Wondering if I was enough to keep them. The questions that haunted my relationship with Davis, and with Mads too. I glanced over to the kitchen and caught Mads staring back at me, a damp dishcloth hanging limply from his hand.
He flushed and quickly apologised. “Sorry. I’ll, um... leave you to it.” He turned his back and busied himself wiping the already sparkling countertop.
I smiled as I watched him work; his lean silhouette stretched over the granite. He wore the T-shirt I’d bought him that readWhat happens in the bindery stays in the bindery. With every wipe of the cloth, it pulled up to expose that silver happy trail I’d come to love; the curve of his arse in those atrocious dad jeans he favoured; and his sexy-as-shit bare feet padding across the tiles.
God, I love this man.
A memory burst forth in my mind. Another time. Another place. And another man who’d loved me. Davis cooking in our old kitchen. Dancing to some music only he could hear. The swell of love rising in me as I watched him move. The same emotion stealing my breath as I watched Madigan clean.
The same love. Solid and true and there for the taking.
The incredible gift I’d been given. Two loves in one lifetime.
The mistakes I’d made with both of them.
The mistakes I wasstillmaking.
And just like that, all those jumbled pieces fell into place and I no longer needed to re-read my mother’s letter to decide. The decision was already walking around in our kitchen, loving me, opening his heart to me, being the daily miracle in my life that I didn’t deserve.
And here I was, fucking around in some existential crisis that was hurtinghim. Hurting Mads. Hurtingus. And there was nothing more important in my life than fixing that.
My happiness wasn’t tied to my mother, or whatever happened in the future between us because of her letter. My happiness was tied to the man currently cleaning our kitchen. The man I was building a life with. A life that mattered more than the reappearance of a mother I’d learned to live without. Chloe might come and go, but Mads would stay. He would be there for me regardless.I wasn’t a child anymore, and although I needed to address shit with my mother, Mads was the rock in my life now, not her.
My therapist would be proud.
As if he felt my sudden certitude, Mads raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
I didn’t answer straight away, happy to simply drink in the sight of him and wonder how I got to be so lucky. Finally, I nodded. “Yeah. I am. Things kind of just clicked for me.”
