Because no matter how much he told himself that Everleigh had just been an intense fling, that anything he’d felt for her would fade over time, his heart refused to listen.
Alejandro crossed his arms. “Seriously... What’s going on?”
Adrian faced his brother and leaned against the bathroom counter. He’d been hungover before, although it had been some years since he had entertained a headache this bad. It didn’t even begin to compare with the ache in his chest.
“I screwed up.”
“How?”
The words lodged in his throat. His heart still told him Everleigh wasn’t a mistake.
“I slept with Everleigh Bradford,” he finally forced out. “I got in too deep. I ended it. She’s back in New York.”
He turned, expecting his brother to be ready with a joke or an offer to introduce him to some bikini-clad model. Instead, Alejandro’s eyes widened.
“So, is the mistake that you ended it?”
Adrian’s hands clenched into fists. “No. I never should have let myself get so deep in the first place.”
“Is this because of Nicole?”
Adrian scrubbed his hands over his face as he stalked over to the hook by the shower and pulled on his robe.
A derisive snort came from his brother. “I called that one.”
“Congratulations.” Adrian rolled his eyes. “Nicole’s a small part of it, but...” His voice drifted off.
Alejandro and Antonio both had good relationships with their mother. They would have had to be dense not to pick up on the tension between him and Isabella over the years. But was it fair to disclose what had happened? To alter how they saw her?
“I imagine a large part of it is me.”
Adrian’s head snapped up. He stepped out of the bathroom to see his mother standing in the middle of his room. Dressed in lounge pants and a T-shirt, with her wrist bandaged and her hair pulled up into a bun, she looked pale. Tears glinted in her eyes.
“I am so sorry, Adrian.”
He stared at her. Thirty-three years he’d waited for an apology. And now that the words had been uttered he didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to feel.
“I’ll leave you two alone.”
Alejandro nodded at Adrian, kissed their mother on the cheek. And before Adrian could say anything he was alone with his mother.
He’d expected to feel resentment, frustration, even anger when they finally talked. But all he felt was the deep-seated fear that had sprouted that day his mother had come back from the hospital without her baby and wound its ugly roots into his soul. The fear that there was no explanation for his mother’s rejection save one. He wasn’t enough.
“When I lost your sister...” Isabella sucked in a shuddering breath. “I fell into a very deep depression. Every time I saw you...” Tears spilled over and streamed down her cheeks. “It was a reminder of what I’d lost. I was in so much pain, so focused on what I didn’t have, that I couldn’t see the amazing son I still had.”
Each word made Adrian’s throat tighten. The fear shuddered, loosened its grip just a fraction as hope bloomed in his chest for the first time in decades. He kept his face smooth, unwilling to let her see the effect her explanation was having on him.
“When yourabuelaoffered to take care of you I was so exhausted... Your father was busy traveling, and I felt like I couldn’t ask for help—that it would make me look weak. Losing a child...it wasn’t talked about back then. I should have told him I needed help...” Her voice trembled. “I felt so alone... But it’s no excuse. I’m your mother and I should have... I should have been there for you.”
Adrian’s fingers curled into fists. He’d never considered the role his father had played after the stillbirth. Or in this case hadn’t. Yes, his mother should have asked for help—but,Dios mío, she’d just lost a child. His father should have been there for her. Knowing that his mother had suffered from the same loneliness he had, the same unfulfilled desire to be comforted in her darkest hour, wiped away his anger and resentment and left him adrift in a new reality.
She sat on the edge of bed and brushed the tears off her cheeks. “When I got pregnant with Alejandro I was so terrified of losing him I barely got out of bed. By the time he was born you didn’t seem to have any interest in anyone other than yourabuela. Something I fault myself for,” she hurriedly added. “And so I focused on your brothers, developed the kind of relationship with them that I wish you and I could have had. You were so young—”
Her voice broke again and she started to sob.
Before Adrian could stop himself, he crossed to the bed and sat next to her. Isabella turned and flung her arms around his neck, crying onto his shoulder. Slowly, he hugged her back. The gesture took effort. His heart was raging a relentless war on the death grip he tried to keep on his control.
After a few moments her cries subsided. She pulled back, her hands finding his and cradling them.