All because of what they made on that bed.
Love, yes. And Johnny.
“Maybe.” Though she appeared unconvinced. “But I’m here to ask that you not take your anger for me out on my daughter. She’s innocent in all of this. She doesn’t deserve your wrath.”
He could debate Chloe’s innocence until he was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t serve a purpose.
“But you do deserve my wrath.” It wasn’t a question. “And how exactly do you think I’m going to hurt Chloe? I’ve never laid a hand on her.”
“You laid something on her to get her in that situation.”
He smirked. “Your concern is touching but misplaced. She’s a big girl now.”
“Be that as it may, I take full responsibility. She was a minor, and as her parent, it was my duty to ensure her wellbeing and that of her baby.”
“My baby, too.” His voice was sharp, and Cade took a step toward the back room, sensing this wasn’t a public conversation.
“Yes. But my priority was Chloe. Keeping her life on track. Keeping her goals intact. She was far too young to be a mother. Far too young to be a wife. And far too young to attempt either living three thousand miles from her family while you did your soldier thing. As an adult, you must realize that now.”
His soldier thing.
Reluctantly though, he agreed, relieved Cade was out of earshot.
Poor kid was trying to do what Jameson had been robbed of. Failed to fail at. Make a marriage work while raising a baby, all with the word teen on the end of his age.
“She realizes it, too. She’s smart, that girl. Always been her father’s daughter. Not afraid to stand up to me. Sees through my bullshit and calls me out on it. Drives me crazy,” Genevieve admitted with a humility he’d never seen before. “She’s the female version of Graham, and I’ve never been able to manipulate either into doing my bidding.”
“Except for one time.” Though he knew there were countless others, according to Chloe.
“Yes. That time.”
“Well, it was a doozy. Bet you’re proud of yourself.”
“I was proud of her. For doing the right thing.”
“For doing what you wanted, you mean.”
“I could not let her leave the state with you. I could not let her keep that child. And trust me, there were discussions on the alternative, which she flat out refused. But I wanted more for her than to be a housewife. She wanted more for herself than that, and I believe you wanted more for her, too. As for John—”
“Don’t,” Jameson snapped, holding up a hand. “Don’t talk to me about my son. Don’t tell me you know what’s better for him than I do. You’ll go to hell for what you did, and I’ll be the lucky one to send you there. In the meantime, mind your own fucking business, and that business doesn’t include me and my son, or your adult-aged daughter where she and I are concerned.”
“So, you’re together now? Reunited?”
“That question is the exact opposite of minding your own fucking business.”
She smiled, and instead of her usual conniving grin, it was genuine. “You love her.” She seemed oddly pleased about it.
“I did. A long time ago.”
“You still do. I see it in your defensiveness.” She gestured around his upper body. “This wall you’ve built.”
He didn’t waste his breath denying it.
“I have that same wall. You see, I loved someone a long time ago too. I still love him, but he’s moved on. Found someone who loves him better than I ever did and more than I ever could. I’ll never recover from that. From knowing I had something invaluable, and yet I lost it, of my own selfish doing.”
“Graham, huh?”
When she nodded, he chuckled, enjoying her misery.
“Admitting your many mistakes today, Genevieve?” He whistled. “You should visit Father David and his confessional booth over at St. Mary’s before you find the devil inside again. Salvage some of your lost soul.”
She laughed, and for once, it didn’t sound witchy.
It sounded . . . charming.
He could see what Graham fell for so many years ago. Before realizing she was pickled and sour on the inside.
“Chloe won’t speak to me,” Genevieve confessed. “I’ve tried repeatedly.”
“Don’t blame her. I don’t wanna talk to you, either.”
“If you love her, and I mean really love her, please tell her.” There was legitimate concern in her request. “Please show her. Love her better than anyone else ever did, or ever could.”
A lovely sentiment. Unless you had their history.
“Please make her happy,” she continued when he remained silent. “After all these years of unhappiness because I took away the only things she ever truly loved.”
“She made a choice. You didn’t force her.”
“I did,” she admitted, then hesitated when the bell over the front door jingled.
A customer walked in and began browsing the color chips next to a paint display.
Taking that as a sign to exit, she pulled out her sunglasses, making one final plea.
“If you don’t, or can’t love her? Let her go. Untether her to you. Be harsh if necessary, but let her go so she can find a small slice of happiness with a man who loves her more and better. Even if she’ll never fully love him back.”
“Why wouldn’t she love him back?”
“Because he’s not you.” She slid on the oversized glasses, hiding half her face. “I’m a prisoner in a jail of my own making, and while it’s quite pretty to look at, and money is no object, it’s not a place I’d wish on my worst enemy. I certainly don’t want my daughter living here, too.”
A surprisingly candid comment from a woman who moonlighted as a snake.
As with snakes, Jameson eyed her as she left, not offering up his intentions toward Chloe, nor the forgiveness her mother came seeking.
Her offense was unforgivable, that much he knew.
His intentions toward Chloe were muddier.
And tonight, after seeing her at Johnny’s baseball practice, he’d driven home with a pit of regret in his stomach, those intentions still unclear.
Stood on the back porch, staring out at the vast Atlantic Ocean, flipping through the memories in his mind. Back to when his intention toward Chloe was singular.
Forever.
Stood there until the sun nearly set, casting light across the water’s choppy surface like a jagged mirror. Heard her enter the house through the front door, her sandals snapping as she looked for him. Felt her come out onto the porch.
Spoke when she didn’t. “You bought this house for him, didn’t you?”
They were the first words he’d said to her in a week.
“Yes,” Chloe admitted, coming to stand at his side. “And because I knew it would hurt you. Bring you back.”
“Why?”
“Because you hurt me first. And nothing else brought you home. Not me, or Jonah, or even Johnny, because remember, I thought you knew about him.”
“But why, Chloe? Without any bullshit.”
“Because I love you.”
His chest tightened. “I love you, too.”