"Because every child deserves a father. Because this house is much better than wherever you could possibly move to. Because you will be safe here. And because you want to." As soon as I finished talking, I realized those were not the right answers, as her face fell ever so slightly. I’d messed up again. My fear got the best of me.
Open up Hugo, you were supposed to open up!
She shook her head and walked to the window. "No, I won't stay,” she whispered, her voice so laced with disappointment that it cut me deep.
"Why? Don't I deserve to be a father to this child?" I cringed inwardly at the harshness in my voice. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t believe she was rejecting me yet again.
She turned to look at me. "No more than I deserve to be happy and free," she replied calmly.
I grasped the crib railing so tightly that the wood threatened to break.
"Very well. I see how pointless this is!" I hissed, gesturing toward the door. Ava recoiled at that, as if she thought, even just for a moment, that I might strike her.
I froze at the realization of how low her opinion of me must have been. Was she so frightened of me that she would think I would ever do that?
I shook my head. This was a mistake, all of it. "I won't force you any longer, knowing how you feel so imprisoned in my presence. I’ll move back to the apartment tonight until you are well enough to go to Yorkshire. I’ll have a lawyer draft visitation rights for me. Don’t worry, I’ll be fair and try not to be the monstrous beast you take me for," I remarked coldly before walking out of the nursery and down the stairs.
As I sped down the path out of the estate, my vision blurred a little as I felt wetness on my cheeks. I briefly touched my moist eyes with my fingers. This was impossible.
I didn’t cry, even as a child, and the last time I had shed tears had been when my mother was lowered to the ground three weeks after my fifth birthday.
Men like us don’t cry!my father had chastised me that day, grabbing me by the shoulders.Do not embarrass me with this display of unnecessary emotion. Men don’t feel and if they do, they don’t show it. Do you understand?
I’d made good on it until today, at the ripe age of thirty-four, and now that I started, it seemed that I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
I parked at the side of the small country road, too visually impaired to continue my drive. I had fought and lost. I so wanted Ava to forgive me and I had failed. Surrendering was not in my nature and I knew that her face would haunt my mind for as long as I breathed.
The memory of the hurt and pain flashing on her face—every time I had hurt her, every time I had let her down—would be burned in my memory forever.
The lump in my throat made it almost impossible for me to swallow. I never should have walked out like that. I shouldn't have left her alone and hurting. I should have spoken with her and learned from my mistakes. I should have admitted all my faults and explained to her why it seemed so impossible that someone as good as her really existed and even more inconceivable that she saw something worthy in me.
I should have been a better man. I should have been the man she deserved. I should have been the man I wanted to be. For her. For our child.
Apologies meant nothing at this point. Now I needed to make the grand gesture I should have done before. I needed to crack my chest open and let her in completely; if she still walked away, destroying me beyond repair, then it was the way it had to be.
Now I had to try the scariest tactic of all… Complete vulnerability.
Chapter 25
Ava
Thiswasamess,all of it… I sniffled as I slowly made my way back from the nursery to my bedroom.
I was not sure what I had expected him to say when he showed me the room. It was a work of love in every little detail and for a second hope that I thought was dead and gone resurfaced. When I asked him why I should stay, I’d hoped to hear some words of attachment, words that would have reverberated some of my own feelings, but instead, all I heard was about what was right, what the baby deserved… There was no sentimentality in his statement, no romantic feelings, and despite the odds, it managed to hurt me again.
I was not sure I wanted to be in his home anymore, especially if he made good on his words and didn’t come back. It would make his absence a lot more potent and the finality of it caused a grief that I couldn’t handle.
I turned to my side, letting my tears fall freely. When would I ever stop crying over this man?
I ignored the soft knock on my door, not in the mood to entertain or reassure anyone, but once I heard the door open and close, I knew that only one person would be brazen enough to do this. Hugo had come back.
I heard him walk closer, his large frame causing the floor to creak under his steps.
He suddenly stopped as I stiffened at his nearness. “I’m undeserving of your tears, Ava. I’m unworthy of you. But I sowant to be, and being so close to having it and realizing you messed it up is a hard pill to swallow, especially when you logically know that—” He sighed and I had to fight myself not to turn around to look at him.
“This house was my grandfather’s summer home here in Britain, and after my mother died, I’m—” He stopped for what seemed forever. “My mother loved my father. I mean, truly loved him. I thought they were happy together, you know. I was only a little boy but I grieved for the person who loved me so much. That woman, Ava, she was—” He sighed and stopped talking again.
I could only imagine how painful it must have been for him to open a wound that I was not sure really truly healed.