“My dad built this cabin after …”
“After what?”
He glances over to me, not waiting long enough to make any discernible eye contact before looking away. “My mother left when my sister and I were young.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can only imagine how hard that would be on a child. Does your dad still live in Gamble?”
Shaking his head, he says, “He died five years ago.”
“And your mom?”
“She died when I was seventeen.” I didn’t see that coming. Not that it’s any of my business, but I want to know, “Did she ever come back?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. We never saw her again.”
“That’s horrible, what happened?” Again, none of my business, but inexplicably I want to know more about this man.
“She had dreams of becoming an actress, so she moved to La La Land.”
“Without you?” I know people do crazy things in hopes of making it big in Hollywood, but leaving a family? “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t feel too bad for us. Our dad and grandparents did everything they could to make her disappearance more palatable.”
“I can’t imagine not seeing my kids again.” The thought makes my blood practically turn to ice. “For me, the worst part of getting a divorce is that I won’t have full custody of my kids.” Talk about oversharing. I don’t know why, but I don’t want Digger lumping me in with the likes of his mother. Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. “I’m going to miss out on half of everything.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Divorce is hard on everyone. Especially the kids.”
“I don’t think anyone gets married thinking that it won’t last. At least I didn’t.”
“The odds aren’t exactly in favor of things working out—and I may be wrong, but I’ve heard they’re even worse in Hollywood.”
I stare at him for a second, feeling anger bubble in my chest. Is he judging me? I don’t need to be judged. Not by some bachelor. “So, from your esteemed position of knowing exactly nothing about my life, you think I should have never gotten married because of what I did for a living?”
Digger shrugs. “It didn’t exactly turn out, did it? And now you’ve got two little people paying the price.”
The tears are back, but this time they’re hot to the touch as I wipe them away. “How dare you? I’m not the one who couldn’t keep my pants on,” I grind out. “I’mthe one who was constantly looking the other way, believing Brett’s lies that his current infidelity was the last. I tried damn hard to make it work for the sake of my children.” Fury courses through my veins and it’s all I can do to keep my voice down so I don’t wake the boys.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“To what? Act like some Monday-morning quarterback who knows everything?” I spit out, standing up. “Because that’s exactly what you did, and none of those things were accidents!”
With that, I turn and storm off. I wind up sitting on the dock, watching a pair of loons swim past with their babies in tow. What should be a peaceful sight makes me feel more alone, more torn up inside. I want what those birds have—a true partner in raising a family. Someone who will help share the burdens and joys of life, alike. But that has never been Brett. Not even for a day.
After a few minutes, I feel the dock dip a little. I’m guessing it’s Digger coming to apologize but I don’t bother to look up. I’m still mad.
He clears his throat. “Mind if I sit with you for a minute?”
I look over my shoulder and glare at him. “It’s your dock.”
He plunks himself down next to me, leaving a space between us. “Harper, I’m really sorry about what I said. You’re right. I don’t know anything about your life or your marriage. Oranymarriage for that matter. I’ve always known I’d never get married and have kids. If you don’t have any, you don’t have to worry about messing them up.”
Yikes. His mother really did a job on him. “No one sets out to mess their kids up.”
“I suppose that’s true too. Unfortunately, it happens a lot. Selfish people don’t care what kind of trouble they leave behind,” he growls. He runs a hand through his hair, then sighs. “Look, I’m not saying you’re like my mom, because you’re not. In the short time I’ve known you, I can see that you put your kids first, which is how it should be. I’m sorry for what you’re going through. All three of you. And I’m sorry for being so hard on you just now.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. After all, he’s not the person I’m truly mad at. I’m obviously pissed at Brett, but deep down, I’m also angry at myself for trusting him so implicitly.
“Your being an actress has probably brought up some negative feelings in me. My mom valued fame over family, and I suppose I painted everyone in Hollywood with the same brush.” In case I couldn’t figure that out, he clarifies, “You know, a bunch of self-centered dreamers who don’t know when to give up the ghost.”