“Based on what I saw when she came to your house, no. I don’t believe she will.”
“She’ll think you planted ideas in my head.”
That she sees this, despite how much she loves her mother, says a lot of about her and us. “We’ll come up with a way to get through to her.”
“I hope we can. We’re not close anymore. I told myself we were, but the truth is, the longer she’s been with your father, the more superficial our relationship has become. Honestly, I resent her and how she’s forgotten my father’s legacy. Maybe she resents me for pointing that out and I do. Often.”
“Did she know about the miscarriage?”
“I didn’t tell her, but I regretted that. I feel like maybe Isaac told her. Maybe she knows, and feels hurt that I didn’t tell her. Maybe that’s why she’s so damn angry all the time.”
“Who does Isaac think the father was?”
“Isaac doesn’t have any idea. I don’t tell Isaac anything. I damn sure didn’t tell him that.”
“Were you seeing anyone at the time?”
Her eyes glint hard. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” She stands up and I’m right there with her. She tries to walk away. I grab her arm and pull her around to face me but she’s already attacking. “I told you I hadn’t slept with anyone but you. It was your baby. And for your information, my love life and sex life, have been nothing to brag about which I blame you for. You ruined everyone for me and now you’re being a bastard.”
“Easy, sweetheart. I wasn’t suggesting you were sleeping with anyone but me when you got pregnant. A date is not a fuck. I was suggesting that Isaac might have made an assumption.”
“And this has what to do with my mother?”
“I’m just trying to figure out if anyone could have put two and two together. To link us. If anyone could, it would be her. She’s the one close to you. Obviously, decisions were made to use me to get to you and you to get to me.”
Her voices lifts. “You think my mother was involved? I thought you said—”
“I’m not suggesting she knows what she’s involved with, but people use people as sources of information every single day without them knowing it.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about us—not even Gigi when she asked me to visit you, so it would have had to be someone who saw us together.”
“And they could have. Hell, the cottage could have had cameras. We now know that family loves to film everyone and everything.”
“I can’t believe my mother would know about us that night and not talk to me about it. Honestly, now that I think about it again, I really don’t think she’d know about the miscarriage and not talk to me. And I’d like to say that’s because she would be worried about me, but the truth is that she’s worried about protecting her life with your father.”
I see where she’s going. She’s worried about that ultimate betrayal with her mother. Worried that her mother is one of them, not just blindly in love with my father, and I get that. This family has done nothing but beat me alive. My hands come down on her shoulders. “I know where your head is. Blake and I both told you, she’s not involved. Don’t go there.”
“She’s not involved,” Harper repeats and breathes out. “God. For a moment there I started convincing myself that she was.”
“She’s not.”
“Do the numbers in your head tell you that?”
“Yes, sweetheart. They do. She’s not involved.” I stroke her hair. “Let’s go to bed and get some rest.” I take her hand and lead her toward the bed, and once we’re there, I pull the blanket back.
“Shouldn’t we be planning what comes next? We’re not doing anything else tonight?”
“Just this,” I say, untying her robe, caressing it from her shoulders before I peel away my pants and pull her into the bed with me.
She’s on her elbow in a heartbeat, facing me, nowhere near winding down. “You’re not going to do anything about your father tonight?” she presses.
“No. I’m not.”
“Should we use the call he made to me in some way? Maybe I should pretend you’re asleep and call him?”
“I told you. We’re letting him simmer. And that means we let him wonder if you’ll betray me.”