“I’ve never seen you so happy as you are with her. You were so confident you told off both Charles and me. You stood up to her mother. Victor, you love her. If you think she’s just out for your money, ask her to sign a prenup. It’s that easy. You are going to have a baby, and you love that woman.” She sat back and crossed her arms.
It wasn’t that easy though. I had definitely screwed things up by being so withdrawn. Katherine had asked me to come talk to her at least a dozen times. She had to be so upset with me she’d never speak to me again. I needed to talk to her, to smooth things out, but I was still so hurt and angry. Forgiving someone for hurting you in the worst imaginable way wasn’t easy.
“I don’t think so, Ivy. Not this time. I screwed up, and I don’t know if I want that back.” What I really wanted was the Katherine I had before the complications began. I wanted to transport both of us back in time to before that dinner when we told everyone we were dating. Seeing Jillian had triggered every negative memory I had from every woman I’d dated in the past. I’d already had my reservations, but I could put a pin in it. That was the moment this all blew up.
“You do too. It’s obvious you’re torturing yourself. Just call her, Victor. You were right about this all along. You should be able to love whoever you want, even if they are 14 years younger. And no one should have the right to judge you based on who you’re dating. I was wrong. I admit that. I wanted to see you be happy and protect you. And this whole time, you’ve been happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“You love her. You need to bury this hatchet and do it quickly before she takes off and you never see her again. She has shows all around the world. What if she jets off to Paris next week and meets Mr. Tall, Dark and Dreamy?”
That was one thought that hadn’t occurred to me, that she would find someone else and move on. I had been so convinced that she wanted my money so desperately that she’d never leave me. But if this really was a strange coincidence and she really was hurting, it was possible that she would fall for a complete stranger, simply because they were there to comfort her in the wake of my stupidity.
“Fuck, I screwed up so bad.” I raked my hand through my hair.
“Call her. Or go see her. Just talk about it. It’s not too late.” Ivy stood, taking the bottle of bourbon with her. “Do it tonight.”
As she let herself out of my office, closing the door behind herself, I leaned back in my chair. I wished I could just melt into it and disappear. The only thing worse than admitting you were wrong to a friend who had the power to lecture you, was admitting you were wrong to a person you love—whom you had let down. And tonight, I just didn’t have the energy to deal with that.
I sat in that chair so long I dozed off. When I woke up it was after one a.m., and I was stone-cold sober again. My back hurt from the way I’d been sitting. My suit was a crumpled mess, and I was exhausted. I had a nine a.m. with the team, and all I wanted was my bed. So, I trudged myself down to the parking garage and climbed into my car. The words Ivy had said to me still rang in my ears.
Maybe there was still hope, but I had to figure out how to even broach the subject, because I was so angry still. It was fourth and ten, and if I didn’t score, the game was over. If only I knew the right play.
20
KAT
Mom hadn’t called again after the day we argued, but I had been so lonely without Victor, I needed her. Being pregnant was scary enough, but without anyone in your life truly supporting you it was terrifying. Bethany tried to help, but her attempts fell flat. Victor still wasn’t really responding, though he’d at least been texting me and asking how I was feeling. So, I showed up at my mom’s house.
There I stood on her front steps, working up the nerve to knock on the door. The oversized wreath hid the brass knocker. The burgundy color stood out against the white siding. John told me once that burgundy was symbolic of stature, power, and wealth. He had plenty of that as an investment banker.
The door was intimidating for more than one reason. Yes, it was the gateway to one of the most expensive homes on the block—in the city even—but more than that, it was the only thing keeping me away from the bitter words my mother would likely spew. Yet, there I was, waiting to knock on it and walk into the punishment I knew she’d dish out, and I was a glutton for it. But she was my mother.
I raised my hand and knocked, then stepped back to wait. Sometimes it took a while before anyone answered. Especially if they were in the middle of something. It was mid-afternoon, so the most interesting thing Mom would be doing was watching soaps, but she always made it seem like she was so busy.
Other women my age would simply walk into their parents’ house, but not me. I’d had so many stepfathers none of the homes we lived in felt like home. None, except the one Mom and I had done remodeling on with Victor. That house still felt like the home I was longing for, but after having been reunited with Victor, I had discovered he was the home I was missing. Not a building.
After a few minutes, there was still no answer. The sun shone overhead, but it was a crisp day, the breeze biting at my exposed skin. I knocked again, the chill urging me on. Even if Mom hadn’t heard, the housekeeper should have answered by now. So, I waited longer. I knew she was home. Mom didn’t go anywhere unless it was a chance to parade her wealth or power.
When the door creaked open, it was chained shut and a pair of almond-shaped eyes peered back at me. The black hair gave away the fact that it was not my mother, but probably one of the helps.
“Is Jillian home?” I leaned forward, peering into the darkness behind the face. The eyes blinked and stared back, unspeaking. “I’m her daughter.”
The door shut abruptly, and I was left in the cold alone again, but I knew someone was inside at least. I knocked again and again, waiting for someone to come back to the door. I was not leaving until I’d said my piece, and my mother would have to put up with that.
Finally, after nearly 15 minutes of waiting, the door swung open and the aged face of John Baxter smiled at me. It wasn’t a smile that welcomed me to his home because he was delighted to see me. It was a practiced professional smile—one he likely gave his clients or colleagues. He wore casual clothes, like he’d taken the day off to golf or run errands, which was strange. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen John in anything other than a suit.
“Is Mom here?” I cocked my head to the side, not stepping into the house since I hadn’t been invited yet.
“Jillian asked me to send you away.” John’s confession may as well have been followed by waving a weapon to scare me off. The pasty grin on his face didn’t melt at all as he said the words. I couldn’t understand how he could be complicit in this plot to run me off. She was my mother.
“John, please. She’s, my mother. I need to speak with her.” I held on to the last vestige of hope that he’d help me out as his face contorted. I half expected him to mutate into a lesser scary version of her, rage and talons coming out, but he sighed, and his head dropped.
“Come on,” he grunted, waving me in. He stepped aside and closed the door behind me, his face now flashing fear. “She insisted you leave, Katherine. She’s very upset. Tita Pera told her you were here, and she threw her brandy glass at the wall. I’ve never seen her so angry.”
John walked in hurried steps down the long hallway past arching doors and large paintings of scenery. I tried to keep up with him, his vigor that of a child not the aged man he was. I never knew his age, but if I had to guess I’d have said pushing 80. Still my mother married him, and he seemed only to want to placate her.
“I know she’s upset. Thank you for letting me in. I will try not to rile her any further.” He turned a corner and pushed through a swinging door, and I followed him into the kitchen. Large stainless-steel counters and an island made the place feel more like a restaurant than a home, but John was wealthy, and I knew they entertained quite a lot. When he paused at the far door, a door I knew led to the dining room, he turned back to me.
“Just tell her Tita Pera let you in. If she finds out it was me, she’ll have my head.” He offered a compassionate smile and gestured at the door. “I’m sorry for whatever happens.”