Sanctuary (the Affliction Trilogy #2)

Chapter 18

Eighteen

O ver the next month, William keeps to his word and puts forth an effort to build a relationship with me. It's awkward. He tries too hard, and the natural progression of things is missing. Every interaction we have is forced, and we can't seem to find our stride. I almost feel sorry for him and his feeble attempts. Almost.

He comes out of his office after his lunch is delivered and clears his throat to get my attention. I turn to find him picking lint off the front of his shirt. William never fidgets. He's always the picture of poise, but not today. He's discarded his suit jacket and rolled the sleeves of his white button-up to his elbows. The change in his demeanor has me furrowing my brow and watching his every move.

“I ordered a little extra for lunch. I was wondering if you would like to join me,” he says.

“I'm swamped, but maybe some other time,” I say, turning back to my computer.

He comes over with a goofy smile and clicks off the monitor. “Come on, I promise to make it worth your while.”

Words I'll never use to describe him are playful or fun. This is the most laid-back I’ve ever seen him. It has me intrigued. So, I follow him into his office.

He sits on the couch and gestures to the box of pizza and two cans of soda on top of the coffee table. “I thought pizza was a cure-all for just about everything. I figured you and I can use the help.”

“I’m not sure if that’s what pizza is, but we can pretend it is,” I say, my mouth watering as he pulls out a hot slice, cutting the long strings of freshly-melted cheese with his fingers.

I sit on the couch opposite him and pull out a slice for myself. The first bite burns my tongue, but it tastes like heaven. I haven’t had fresh pizza in years. My eyes close and I moan my approval.

“You might have been on to something. The pizza is totally worth it,” I say, throwing my manners out the window as I talk with a mouthful of food.

He pops the tab on his soda and takes a bite of his slice before saying, “The pizza was not the surprise. I had something made for you.” He gets up, goes to his desk, and presents me with a package wrapped in plain brown paper.

“What's this?” I ask.

“Open it.”

I want to decline. It's dangerous to give in and let him believe he can buy my loyalty and love. Then again, he said this is better than pizza, and I can't imagine what can even come close. With shaking hands, I remove the paper and uncover a photo album. When I lift the cover, my breath catches. Inside is a picture of my mom that I've never seen before.

“I know Cassidy didn't have time to go home when she was in college and working for me. There is a whole part of her life I'm sure you and her family did not know about. I thought I would give you some insight into who she was when I knew her.”

I run my fingers over the close-up picture of my mother's face. She's not much older than me in the photograph. Her mouth is open in mid-laugh, and her eyes are tightly shut. She looks so young and carefree, and absolutely stunning.

“You kept pictures of her?” I ask.

“I have them all stored on my old laptop, but don't tell Jacqueline. She would throw a fit if she knew.” He moves to sit next to me on the couch. “May I?”

I look at the man who fathered me, seeing some resemblance between us. We share the same mouth—not thin but also not full and plump. Our cheeks ball, making them look big and round when we smile. I was told as a child that I look a lot like my mother, but I can now see the physical traits I share with my father.

I scoot to the side, and he sits beside me, looking over my shoulder at the photo album. While I turn each page, he explains the image and talks about my mom with what I can only describe as reverence. Something tells me if my mother hadn't ended up pregnant, the two of them would have carried on longer than they did. Not that I would want that for her because she deserved better than being William's mistress. And to be honest, she should have wanted better for herself too.

When we get to a picture of her and William, I search her face for any sign that she was unhappy. With a huge grin spreading from one ear to the other, she has her arms wrapped around his waist while looking at the camera. He glances at her from the corner of his eye with a bashful smile. If I didn’t know how things ended for them, I’d say they were madly in love.

“Did you really care about her, or were you infatuated with a young girl who thought you held the moon and stars in your hands?” I ask.

He lets out a deep breath saying, “I would be lying if I didn’t tell you it was a good mixture of both. Cassidy had a way of lighting up a room. She was smart, witty, and people would hang on to her every word. We did not intend for things to escalate the way they did. For quite some time, we were just friends who enjoyed each other's company. I was the one who fell in love first. I fought with everything I had to keep her at arm's length, but I failed miserably.”

Each picture of her is full of a pure zeal for life. I can't find anything pointing to her being regretful that things happened the way they did. She'd wedged her way into the middle of a marriage and family, and I hate to think she wasn't remorseful of her actions. I close the book.

I’ll never be able to get her side of the story, but I can get some of his. “Do you regret what you did with my mom?”

He turns so we are facing each other, his eyes holding mine as he says, “I should feel terrible for what I put Jacqueline through and the residual effects it had on Ridge and Kennedy, his sister, but I don’t. Your mom made me feel alive and gave me a new view on life. I loved every minute I was with her. My only regret is that things ended the way they did. I don't have any remorse that you are here, but I wish she would have come to her senses and realized I was no good for her long before we conceived you.”

I press the photo album to my chest and hug it. All my life, I've wanted to gather little tidbits about my mother. The stories my family told had run dry a long time ago, and I thought all hope for gaining new information was lost. He has finally given me some new insight into who she was. It wasn't the ideal life I wished my mother had, but it's a glance into who she truly was.

My voice fails me, and I whisper, “Thank you, William.”

“You are most welcome, Quinnten.”

I don't know what compels me to do it, but I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze. He hesitates for a moment before reciprocating my embrace. It doesn't last long, and when we let go, neither of us knows what to do with ourselves. We've been at a standstill for weeks, and now we took a significant leap in our relationship. He hasn't fully gained my respect or trust, but he's put the possibility of doing so into motion.