Hel’s stomach sank, another wave of nausea choosing that moment to overtake her.
Drake.
He would want to know that his wildest dreams had come true after all.
For an instant, Hel was filled with the urge to protect him, to keep his name a secret and protect both him and her mother from the truth, because once she said his name, she would have to reveal the whole story to her mother.
But she couldn’t hold it in.
“Drake Andros.”
Once again, confusion flickered across Seraphina’s expression. “What an odd coincidence,” she said.
Hel shook her head. “Not a coincidence...” she said. And then she told her mother the whole story.
When she was done, her mother looked aghast, face tilted to the ground, shaking her head to herself with an unfamiliar, sad smile on her face. “I never thought I would see the day.”
“What day?” Hel asked, sitting up. “The day your daughter came home unwed and pregnant?”
Her mother cast her a mischievous smile. “There was a time whenthatwas my greatest fear,” she said.
Hel rolled her eyes with a laugh. Her mother had never had anything to worry about and she’d known it, despite Helene’s show for the public. They had always been close, and there wasn’t anything Hel couldn’t tell her mother. Which did not explain the persistent sense of dread that grew with each of her mother’s words. They’d been a team so long that Hel knew when she was about to say something she didn’t want to hear.
“No,” Seraphina continued. “I never thought I’d see the day you fell in love. And with Drake Andros, no less.”
For a moment, time stopped.
“What?” Hel repeated.
Her mother frowned, confusion darkening in her eyes. “You did say Drake Andros was the father, correct?”
Hel shook her head and said, “No. I mean yes. He is. But that’s not what I meant. The other part. What’d you say?”
Understanding dawned on Seraphina’s face and with it, the brittle casing hiding the truth inside of Helene cracked, breaking open at the painful compassion in her mother’s expression.
Hel shook her head. “No.”
“I’m afraid so, my darling.”
“No,” Hel said, as if repeating would make her mother’s words go away, rather than worming their way inside of her until they burrowed so deep, to deny them would be to deny herself.
“I think so, my dear.”
It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be in love with a man who tried to dictate, manipulate and force her major life decisions—it didn’t matter how kind or observant or compassionate he was. She couldn’t be with a man who wasn’t above simply taking what he wanted, who pushed until he got his way, no matter how generous or dedicated he was. She couldn’t love a man that refused her because she wouldn’t bow to his will.
She couldn’t be in love with a man like her father. It all started with love. All the years of hurt and disappointment of trying to please and then trying to displease—it had all started because her mother had foolishly loved her father.
Hel refused that life for herself and her child. “No. I said no.”
It was her mother’s turn to shake her head. “Real love is not really a matter of choice, my sweet. At least that’s what your aunt Barbara said,” she added with a shrug.
But it was all far too serious to shrug.
Expression pained, Hel grabbed her shirt at her chest and twisted, as if the motion might make some difference against the growing pressure in her chest. “No. No. That’s not for me.”
Because if it was true, it would make her like her mother had been so long ago. It would make her blind and weak when she had worked what felt like her entire life to be strong.
A bittersweet smile flickered across her mother’s face. “You don’t have to take it. But I think you should.”