Page 107 of The Addendum

My selfishness made your life harder than it had to be. I loved you too much to risk him knowing. Yet by doing so, I fear I kept you away from knowing the man I had wished him to be. I have lived with that regret for so long, I cannot recall a time I was without it. Yet every time I tried to tell you, I stopped, fearing your reaction. Fearing losing the love of the one person I would give my life for.

Please don’t hate me.

Momma.

“Oh, Momma, I could never hate you,” I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks. I looked around, feeling vulnerable and alone. Regretting the past weeks. The anger and bitterness. The way I tamped down every good inclination when it came to Richard or his family. I had fed off my negative emotions, refusing to give them a real chance.

And I wasn’t sure I would get another one.

I picked up my phone, calling Luc, but it went straight to voice mail. I shook my head as I hung up. He was no doubt deep into work in a server room, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he strove to find and fix the constant error. I didn’t want him to hear my upset voice when he took a break to check his phone. He had a job to do, and if he found out what was going on, knowing him, he would jump on the next plane and come home to help me. I didn’t need that guilt on top of everything else I was feeling.

I stared at my phone, uncertain. I needed to talk to someone.

There was one person I could speak with, but I wasn’t sure if they would even take my call anymore.

I hesitated, then brought up my contact list and hit send.

He answered on the first ring.

“Ashley? Is that you, sweetheart?”

I began to cry again when I heard his voice. It wasn’t angry or cold.

“Richard,” I said between sobs.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked. “Where are you?”

“Home—I’m at home,” I replied.

“I’m on my way.”

“Can–can you bring Katy?”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He hung up.

31

ASHLEY

They arrived in record time, both looking concerned. I had read my mom’s entire letter, often crying at points, feeling her fear, her regret, and her love in the words. She said so many things to me in the letter that she had felt yet never expressed. She regretted that and begged me never to do the same thing.

If you love someone, tell them. If you have things to share, say them. Don’t live with regrets. Don’t make my mistakes. I loved you so much and never told you enough. Never showed you enough. That was how I was raised, and I should have done it differently.

She had done it differently. I always knew I was loved, although I had always longed for more hugs and kisses. More cuddles and bedtime stories. I never knew how deeply her feelings ran. I always wondered if she regretted having me. Her letter had laid that to rest. She raised me the only way she knew how, although I suspected she showed me more affection than her parents had shown her. She had struggled daily to keep up with the world around her, paying bills, working, making sure I was fed and safe.

I opened the door, feeling calmer, yet bursting into tears the second I met Richard’s worried gaze. He stepped in, pulling me into his arms, rocking me as if I were a child. For the first time, I basked in the feeling of being close to my father. Of feeling his tight, comforting embrace. Inhaling his warm, rich scent. He murmured something to Katy, who moved past us, then he pulled back, keeping one arm around me, cupping my cheek with his free hand.

“Ashley, are you hurt? Did Luc upset you? Were you in an accident? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”

I shook my head but, unable to speak, I only cried harder.

He led me to the sofa, sitting down and pulling me beside him. He cradled me close, murmuring hushing sounds, his hand rhythmically stroking over my head and up and down my arm. He let me cry myself out, not once being impatient or telling me to stop weeping. When the last of the deep sobs eased, he pressed some tissues into my hand.

I wiped my face and blew my nose. “S–sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry. Whatever has upset you so much, I’m grateful you called me. Called us. Tell us how to help,” he said.