But it was his mother’s icky obsession with her first-born child that became the spur that split us apart. The jabs started upon first introduction, when Preston’s injection-filled mother looked me up and down and asked if I’d had a nose job. When I replied ‘no,’ she’d patted my hand and said she’d give me the name of her surgeon. And the pin-prink insults continued unchecked. His mother had made it clear where I stood, and that was just behind the cat named Swanky who was deemed too homely to be included in the family Christmas cards.
I was never sure exactly why she’d thought me unworthy, but I assumed it had something to do with my lower social class. They were high society, beacons of the community with money to waste. I was a poor college student who drove a rusty old pickup truck. Let’s put it this way: if we’d been on theTitanic, I would have been the throwaway character from the lower deck dangling off the side of the ship as it sank, while Preston and his family would have been safely snuggled under blankets on a lifeboat while his mother defended her brood by knocking stragglers off the side of the raft with an oar.
I grabbed his hand, not wanting him to suffer needlessly. I’d cared for him; just not enough. “It’s not just your mother. You and me, I’m just not feeling it. You’re an amazing guy, Pres, and you’re going to make some girl very happy. It just won’t be me.”
“You’re not feeling it?” His jaw twitched as he processed my words. “Yeah, well, you never really tried, did you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means sometimes you’re so cold. You’re afraid to get close to people. I get that, but Sam? If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like her.”
I froze. Like her? No way could he be speaking of my mother. As far as he knew, she was dead. That’s what I’d told him, anyway. But clearly, from the expression on his face, he knew more than he had let on. And then it hit me.
“You had me investigated?” I whispered, shock spreading through me at lightning speed. Jumping to that conclusion wasn’t so farfetched, considering his family used private investigators in the get-to-know-you phase of any business transaction. It made sense they’d employ the same tactics on their soulmates.
He didn’t reply, nor did he blink. The bastard.
“You… had… me… investigated.” I repeated each word as if it were its own agonizing sentence.
He shook his head. “Not me.”
My eyes narrowed in on Preston. Of course it wasn’t him. This reeked of his meddling mother. I’d never wanted to maim someone as much as I wanted to maim that woman. How dare she dig into my past? That was mine, no one else’s. At least now I knew why she wouldn’t invite me into her stinkin’ lifeboat. Who wanted to save the crazy lady’s daughter?
“Sam, I get why you have trust issues and why you want to push people away – why you don’t want kids.”
I startled at that. “I never said I didn’t want kids.”
“Yes, you did. I asked you once what you felt about having children, and you told me you didn’t want them.”
Ah, okay, he was right. I had said that; but only because I thoughthewanted them, and I was grappling for ways to make him less interested in me. I figured telling a family-oriented guy like Preston I didn’t want kids would be the kiss of death.
He grabbed my hands. “But it’s okay because I don’t want them either.”
Well, shit, that backfired on me.
“Look, Preston, I don’t see why kids have anything to do with it, but I’ve never ruled them out.”
“Maybe you should.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mental illness runs in your family, Sam. It’s not just your mom. Your grandmother was institutionalized repeatedly, as were two of her four siblings. And your brother…”
Why would he bring Sullivan into this? A tremble set my body in motion. Preston grabbed my arm to steady me.
“Look, I’m not trying to hurt you. I love you. And I know you aren’t ill. I think maybe you’ve been able to ward it off by being in the water – surfing – and that’s great, but it doesn’t mean your children will be as lucky.”
Preston was dropping one bomb after another. Did he not see that he was obliterating me? I fought back with the last of my strength. “There is no science behind that. No one can say for sure that mental illness is genetic.”
“And no one can say that it’s not. I’m not trying to knock you down. I’m trying to show you that we have the same goals and could have an amazing life together, just you and me.” His eyes never left mine. “Babe, listen. Remember when I told you I fought cancer when I was younger? Well, the drugs rendered me infertile. It’s … well, that’s a deal breaker for most women.”
My bottom lip began to quiver as the full scope of his words hit me. It was a deal breaker for normal, whole women, he should have said.
“Anyway, I can’t have kids, and you…”
“Shouldn’t have them.” I whispered the conclusion to his statement. The happy bubble I’d existed in for the past few years had just burst. Preston, armed with my sordid family history, had just destroyed my future.
23
