Chapter 40 #2
My fork stills midair. Whoa. Matt’s on that list?
I mean, sure, he’s rich, hot, loyal like a golden retriever, but Manhattan’s Most Eligible?
I stare at him across the table. Sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, tattoos bold against his skin.
Top buttons undone, Rolex gleaming under the light.
A thin platinum chain disappears beneath his collar—a cross he never removes.
Yeah… I guess it makes sense.
Matt groans, rolling his eyes as he drops his fork. “Oh, God, don’t start.”
“What?” Megan grins. “It’s an achievement! An impressive one at that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you actually read that crap.”
“Town & Country isn’t crap,” Megan fires back.
“It’s not crap,” Amber and Christy echo almost in unison.
“Al? You read that shit too?” Matt asks, brow raised.
“If it’s not in People, it didn’t happen,” I say, grinning.
“Thank God.” Matt waves a hand. “One sane woman at the table.”
“Hey, don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” Christy cuts in, her lips curving around her wine glass.
Matt presses a palm to his heart. “You know I would never. Best mother out there.” He takes a sip of wine, then licks his lips. “It’s not that big of a deal. More of a PR stunt anyway. Alexis Camden’s publicist reached out after it ran. Wants me to escort her to some gala.”
Megan and Christy both gasp. Even I know how big of a deal that is. Alexis Camden is New York elite. Untouchable.
“Holy shit! That’s huge!” Megan gapes. “She only dates billionaires.”
“Well, apparently not always. Hope I’m not a disappointment.”
My brows knit. “Wait, you’re not a billionaire?” Honestly, I thought he was. Leo has hundreds of millions, and I know Matt has more.
Jensen turns to me. “Really, babe?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He owns a lot of shit.”
Matt chuckles. “Not yet, Al. But this deal I’m working on is a big one. Who knows? Stranger things have happened.”
“Like you being on time to dinner?” Megan laughs, lifting her wine glass. “Or not sleeping with Alexis Camden.”
“Can we not talk about who I may or may not sleep with at the dinner table?”
I glance at Tom and Christy. This is always my favorite part—when the conversation veers too inappropriate for most families, but they just laugh, poke, and add to the fun.
Tom points his fork at Matt. “Now that would be an achievement, Matt.”
Laughter echoes around the table.
“Oh my God,” Matt mutters into his glass. “Can we please go back to making fun of Jensen?” He sets it down and looks at us. “You two been furniture shopping?”
I shake my head, grinning. “Are you kidding me? You think the new chair we bought is exciting to talk about after that? Matt. This is Alexis Camden. She’s hot.”
Amber calls down the table, “Yeah, when’s the gala? Or should I say, when are you adding her to the roster?”
Jensen chimes in, mocking a sports announcer. “Drafting number nine-hundred and eighty-six for the Grayson team, Alexis Camden!”
More laughter erupts around the table, and poor Matt—he just takes it. He pretends it bothers him, but we all know better. He’s secretly proud of his accomplishments.
“That’s a big fucking team, Jensen.” Kevin laughs. “But I would’ve guessed thousands.”
Matt stands, feigning offense. “Fuck you all!” He shoots his middle fingers up and leaves… to grab another bottle of wine.
By the time he’s back, the conversation has shifted to the grandchildren, who are all at the kids table in the front room. Jeff, Amber, Kevin, and Megan fill everyone in on their extracurriculars and how the kids are doing in school.
Jensen’s hand finds mine, fingers lacing and squeezing. When I look over, he’s watching me, smiling, dimples deep, eyes lit up. God, he loves me. Warmth shoots through me, spreading to every limb with his gaze, melting every shred of doubt I’ve ever carried.
When your husband looks at you like that, you can’t help but to soak it up, to drink deep from the well of his all-consuming love.
I haven’t forgotten what he’s done. I don’t think I ever will. But every glance, every kiss, every I love you lightens the shadows of the past, until hopefully, one day, all that will be left to look back on will be this. Right here. Me and him. Laughter. Memories.
Love.
I lay my head against Jensen’s shoulder, sinking into the couch and the comfort of him. My arm loops through his, his hand warm on my thigh. The laughter and chaos hasn’t stopped, but it’s late, and the night is winding down.
“Alley?” Christy’s voice carries through the noise, sharp enough to pull my head around. “Will you come with me?” She nods toward the next room.
Jensen meets my gaze, patting my leg. He plants a kiss on my lips before I stand to follow her.
She leads me into the office and closes the door, gesturing to a chair.
I sit. She takes the one across from me, her smile warm, almost overflowing with love, and for a moment I wonder why I’ve been carrying all these ill feelings toward her.
Then I remember. How she went behind my back. Lied to me. Not just a small lie, but deliberate and calculated. A spark of resentment stirs, flipping my stomach. It feels ugly. I can’t imagine doing that to someone, and suddenly, the air thickens, heavy and uncomfortable.
“I’ll get right to the point,” she begins.
“I owe you an apology, and probably an explanation. Not that it erases anything I’ve done, but I want to try.
First, I’m sorry, Alley. I’m sorry for going behind your back, for the choices I made that may have hindered Jensen’s recovery when all I wanted was to help.
And I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”
Heat burns my cheeks and my eyes. “You weren’t just dishonest. You went out of your way to lie to me.”
“I know.” Her voice is soft, weighted.
“Why?” The word leaves my mouth without a thought. Not that it matters. What’s done is done, and I doubt anything she says will make it feel better.
Her gaze flicks to the desk, then back to me, eyes glossy. “I’ve always babied Jensen. I know that. I’ve always known that.” She swallows hard. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the car accident when he was three.”
I nod.
“He nearly died.” Her lip twitches. “You have no idea what it’s like, as a mother, to wonder if your baby is going to make it.
I sat there day after day, watching as they hooked him up to machines.
Tubes fed into every part of his tiny body.
The constant beeping, the fear every time a team of doctors rushed in…
” Her voice breaks. “I can’t—I couldn’t… ”
She trails off, tears falling fast now, and watching her, seeing her break, cracks the composure I’ve been clinging to.
I know the story. It was a car accident.
Just her and Jensen. He doesn’t remember it, but he’s seen pictures, heard the stories.
From what I know, it was bad. They were driving to the Hamptons to visit his grandmother, and for some reason Christy didn’t have his car seat.
Things weren’t as strict back then. It wasn’t unusual for a toddler to ride in the back without one.
My vision blurs. I’ve never seen Christy like this, vulnerable and raw. It’s almost uncomfortable, but also refreshing. She’s usually calm, collected, confident, just like Jensen. And I realize she’s not telling me this to excuse what she did. She wants me to understand.
She finally continues, her voice cracking through the tears.
“We almost lost Jensen. And for so long, when I looked at him, all I could see was my little boy in the hospital. I couldn’t yell.
I couldn’t punish. And when he grew older and pushed boundaries…
And God, did he push them…” She lets out a watery laugh.
“I couldn’t stop enabling. The fear of losing him was so strong, and in my head, discipline meant losing him all over again. Like he’d leave or never talk to me.”
She sniffs, and I keep listening, a quiet presence. “So when he acted out, when he pushed limits, I just… let him. Because I was grateful he was still here. That he hadn’t pushed me away.”
Her gaze drops. “When it became clear he was an addict,”—she shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut, like she’s ashamed to admit it—“I was thrown right back into that fear. I was terrified I’d lose him.
” She reaches for a tissue and dabs at her eyes, forcing herself to meet mine again.
“But this time it was worse. I had something else to lose. He had something to lose.” Her lips tremble as she whispers, “You.”
Dammit. I swipe a finger under my eyes.
“Jensen’s always been a happy boy. Always smiling, always making people laugh, always finding the silver lining.
But underneath, it felt like he was searching.
No matter how much fun he had, how much light he gave off, it never seemed to fill him.
He was chasing something deeper, something that lasted.
Then you came along. And everything changed. He changed.”
She pauses to blow her nose, dabbing at the redness before continuing.
“I’d never seen him like that before, so alive, when he brought you home the first time.
” She nods softly. “He loves you. The way Tom loves me, and I love him. So when he relapsed again, I panicked. I did what I thought was best in the moment. Thought I was saving him from himself. Protecting you from the crash of a relapse. Protecting me from the heartache of losing you both. But it was wrong. It was selfish. I should have been honest with you.” Her voice breaks.
“You are the best damn thing that’s ever happened to my son. ”
I swallow hard as our eyes meet, both of us crying. Both of us guilty of letting fear drive our choices. Both of us knowing what it feels like to almost lose someone to addiction—someone we love so deeply we’ll do things we aren’t proud of, just to keep them safe.
That’s the irony of it all. I did things in desperation I wish I could undo.
I enabled. I let him manipulate. Yet when Christy did the same, I couldn’t believe it.
Couldn’t justify it. Couldn’t understand.
But she was drowning in her own fears, just like me, grasping for anything that might save her from the sorrow. Save him.
I take a shaky breath, nostrils flaring as I lock eyes with her.
“It’s not okay,” I say, my head shaking.
“It’ll never be okay. None of it. Not what he did.
Not what you did.” God, get it together.
The backs of my hands quiver as I wipe my cheeks.
“Not even what I did. But I understand now. Why you did the things you did. And I’m sorry too.
I’m sorry I didn’t see it then. You were a mother trying to save her son.
Just like I was a wife trying to save my husband.
” A sob tears free. “And we both knew we couldn’t. ”
She pushes up from her chair, rushing to me on the other side of the desk.
I stand, and she pulls me tight into her arms. I wrap mine around the woman who had once been like a mom to me.
She could never take my mom’s place, but she took me under her wing and held me close when I needed a family.
Relief floods through me, like a waterfall over a cliff, washing the past away.
I cling tighter. I don’t know how long we stand there, hugging, crying, letting old pain melt into something softer: a quiet appreciation and understanding.
I still hate that she lied. I’ll never excuse it. But that’s the thing about addiction, it twists everyone in its orbit, makes you cross lines you swore you never would.
All in the name of love.
And don’t they say love makes people do crazy things?
Never has that felt truer.