I’m not sure if Dana would let her know out of spite or if she’d keep her head down for old time’s sake, but I’m not taking any chances, which means I’m going to have to move quick. Neither Gordon nor Dana had given me anything that would help me figure out just what the hell was going on, but the one common denominator was Ann Winthrop.
If I go by what Gordon said earlier, it seems the woman had an unhealthy dose of jealousy where her own daughter is concerned, but how had that jealousy manifested itself? What had she done to instill such fear in her own child that more than twenty years later, she didn’t even mention her to her husband? Not only that, I have the worry of her having already killed someone if what Gordon suspects about the death of Sterling Winthrop is true.
In my experience, if someone was willing to spill blood once and got away with it, there isn’t much stopping them from doing it again. My thoughts and inner ramblings were getting me nowhere. There was only one thing I could control at the moment until I had all the information needed to take care of this mess, and that is keeping my little family safe, so I switched my focus to that.
A quick phone call to beef up security around the estate went a long way to making me feel better, along with Silas’ reassurance that he’d already personally handled adding the security measures I’d asked for to Giselle’s apartment. The tracking devices I’d ordered for her car and person would be here later this evening, so I could put my mind at ease.
I don’t trust mom not to slip up and say something to her, so I headed back inside after a little while. Delores was in the hallway, her arms filled with bedding or something it looked like. She didn’t even have the decency to look contrite when our paths crossed.
“You called mom?” She barely spared me a glance as she carried on her merry way. “Yup!” She grumbled something that I didn’t quite catch, but I think the gist was that I was no use for what was needed. I wonder why the women around here think I’m such an ass that I’m too soft to handle shit?
First, Giselle left me apparently because she didn’t trust me to protect her. Even as I had the thought, something inside me that had softened in the last few hours was telling me different. I’m beginning to suspect that she did that shit to protect me, which only makes this shit worst. The thought that she’d walked away from the life I gave her to protect me from the woman she feared is almost more than I can bear. Add the fact that I’ve been a complete bastard to her and I’m damn near knocked to my knees.
I found three of my favorite people sitting out on the balcony outside my son’s nursery. They didn’t know I was there, so I stood in the doorway watching them, watching her, and thinking how strange life is. This morning she was still the enemy. I had barriers in place between us that I was sure would never be breached by her or anyone else again.
Now in a matter of hours and with all that had come to light, things have changed drastically. Instead of anger and distrust, I feel protective and tender towards the woman I’d convinced myself I hated for the past two years. I never noticed before how fragile she is, how petite compared to me. My eyes fell to the floor where I’d fucked her without care or finesse, and I felt my gorge rise.
I felt that shit in my heart and had to bite back a moan of despair. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never be able to make it up to her. Now, instead of hating her for keeping my son away from me, I cherish her for enduring whatever hell she’d had to, to keep him safe. A wave of love so strong hit me in the gut, and I wanted nothing more than to hold her, to assure her that everything was going to be okay.
Just then, she turned and saw me, and for a split second, I saw my wife, the way she used to look at me with all that love and adoration she once bore me shining in her eyes before the shutters fell into place and all I saw was the wariness she’d learned to have in my presence.
A sound escaped me as I made my way towards her, and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she no longer had to be wary of me. But if I did that, I’d have to explain a lot. Things that I wasn’t ready to broach with her as yet, not until I had everything under control. So instead, I stopped beside her chair and cupped her cheek in my palm as I looked down at her, dying to see that look again. It never came, but it was enough when she turned her cheek into the warmth of my palm.