48. Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Eight
D eclan
"You didn’t have to come down here," I remark as I settle onto the couch in my hotel suite. I try not to wince as the position disturbs the wound to my side, not wanting the person seated opposite me to worry even more.
My father raises an eyebrow. "What, you thought I wasn’t going to come after they told me my son got shot?"
I sigh. Well, that's what I was hoping for . Left to me, my father would have never found out about the shootout in the first place. I had enough to deal with this week without adding him to the mix, but Amelia told her mother about everything that happened. After calling and chewing me out for not informing her earlier, Rachel called my dad and relayed the whole story.
Now they're both in town, Rachel spending the day with Amelia, and my dad apparently babysitting me.
"It’s not a big deal," I say. "It was just a flesh wound. Nothing important was hit."
"Yes, but you almost died from blood loss," My father says. "I may not have been the best father to you over the years but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I would have never forgiven myself if anything happened to you."
I frown at him. "Where on earth did that come from?" My dad wasn’t usually the sentimental type.
He eyes me with those familiar eyes and then crosses one leg over the other. He presses his lips together before he says, "I can't help but think that this whole thing has been my fault."
I raise an eyebrow as he continues talking.
"I was the one who forced you to come here and take on this project. I wanted you specifically on it because… well, to put it kindly, you were turning into a workaholic."
"You mean like you?"
He smiles grimly. "Yes, but that’s not a compliment. I worked all the time because there was nothing else for me to do. I thought that achieving goals and amassing wealth would fill the void in my heart left by your mother, but it never did. And by the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. I’d already broken my relationship with my son and passed on my bad habits to him."
Discomfort crawls through me. I so don’t want to be having this conversation especially not with the pain meds still running through my system. And my mother is a topic I never want to broach. "Dad, we don’t have to talk about–"
"No. Please." My father holds up his hand. "Please, just listen. I need to get this off my chest."
My mouth closes. I have no choice now but to sit here and listen to this, as much as every fiber of my being rejects it.
Dad takes a deep breath, the sound of which seems to fill the room. "After your mother left me, I was angry. I thought she had no right to do it. I had done everything right. I was wealthy and I was faithful, and I thought that was all a man had to be."
He shakes his head and continues. "But I didn’t see how miserable she was. She never wanted any of it, you see, not like I did. For a long time, she only did as she thought she ought to, had a child because I wanted kids, and stayed married because she thought that was the right thing to do. Until she finally couldn't take it anymore. She was so deeply unhappy before she left, but I refused to see it."
"That doesn’t excuse her," I said savagely, unable to keep the hurt from my tone.
I still see that little boy in my mind, asking where his mom is, and why she isn't coming back. Even worse, as a kid, I frequently argued with my dad, blaming him for driving her away, when he was the one who stayed.
"If she didn’t want a child then she shouldn’t have fucking had one. And the least she could have done was say goodbye when she left."
"I know." My dad gives me a sad smile. ‘I’m not trying to say what she did was okay, but maybe I want you to understand her a little. And to understand that I was also at fault. You weren't entirely wrong when you blamed me for your mother leaving us. Maybe if I'd seen how unhappy she was earlier, I could have gotten her help."
His gaze shifts to the window side, with a view of the overcast skies.
"And to make it worse, I didn’t know how to raise a child myself so I just did everything my father did with me. I tried to instill a work ethic in you and treated you more like an employee than a son. I never let you be the child you were. I should have let you have fun and play with magic as much as you wanted. Heck you might have even become a great magician in the future.”
I make a face and he chuckles to himself, before continuing, “But I didn’t let you explore the full depth of your childish wonder. So in your teenage years, you started to rebel, and instead of seeing that as the cry for help that it was, I only tightened the reins more."
"You were right too," I say. "I was being an irresponsible jackass."
And I had been up to the moment Rachel told me she was pregnant. That’s when I knew I had to get my act together. I couldn’t give my child an absentee parent or an irresponsible one, as my mother had done to me.
"Yes, but you were also a kid who was forced to grow up too fast," my dad counters. "And then you buried yourself in work, especially after you and Rachel broke up. I could see you going down the same miserable path I was, drowning without coming out for air, and there was no way to stop it. I knew where that led and I didn't want you to end up like me, lonely in your old age and estranged from your child."
He considers his next words carefully before he says them. "I also didn’t want you to run away from love just because you were scared of what your mother did to you."
"That's not –"
"Yes," my father interrupts, watching me steadily. "It is."
I open my mouth to refute it but the words don’t come out. Because somewhere deep inside, I know it's true. He's right.
Isn’t that why I’ve been so frightened of telling Emma my feelings, why I fought them for so long?
Maybe it's because inside is still that little boy who was abandoned by his mother, afraid of getting heartbroken again.
Jeez, leave it to my dad to figure it out before I do.
"I have to confess I was hoping for a long time that you and Rachel would get back together, but the last time we spoke, she told me it wasn’t happening."
My father picks up the cup of coffee in front of him, takes a sip, and eyes me over the mug. "She tells me that you’ve met someone?"
I nod, emotion fluttering through me just at the thought of her name. "Yes. Emma."
I can't help but smile. Just saying her name out loud lifts my spirits and makes me feel like butterflies are buzzing around the room.
Dad smiles back. "Is that the one that I heard over the phone?"
It takes me a second to recall what he's referring to.
"Yes," I admit. "That’s her."
"You love her?"
It's not as hard as it once was to admit it, nodding my head. "I do."
"Good," My father smiles. "I’m happy if you are. I don’t even need to know what she’s like. She must be something to have you looking so lovesick."
"She’s..." I search for a word, a phrase, anything to encapsulate the force of nature that is Emma. "She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met. I’m crazy about her and probably always will be."
My father smiles and then laughs softly.
"You know when I gave you this job, I never thought you would find love while doing it." He looks out the window again. "Your mother and I met here and I remember it being such a nice, slow-moving town. I only hoped the pace would relax you. But I'm happy you've been able to find the woman of your dreams while you're at it."
"Yeah."
Before I can say more, we hear the key turning in the lock and the door opens to reveal Emma, looking as adorably refreshing as ever in matching jean jacket and pants, her hair in a messy bun.
She blinks at us in surprise, and then a blush spreads across her cheeks.
"Oh sorry," she says. "I didn’t mean to interrupt. Rachel told me you were alone and needed someone to look after you."
Rachel knows fully well that Dad is here, so this can only be a ploy.
"It’s fine," I say. I know Rachel set this whole thing up so that Emma could meet my father but I don't mind. They have to meet at some point.
My dad smiles warmly at her and gets to his feet, extending his hand. "You must be Emma."
For most of the afternoon, Emma and my dad talk about everything and nothing, ranging from his experience as an estate developer to fishing of all things.
"My Grandpa is a huge fisher," she says. "He's out to catch this pike that he swears weighs about sixty pounds if you would believe it. You should come with us sometime."
"Maybe I will," my dad says, sounding as genuine as I've ever heard him.
Later that evening, when Emma eventually returns home and Dad retires to the guest bedroom, I relax in my study with a glass of wine.
I haven't seen much of Emma for a few days, as she's been spending time with her grandfather. Though I miss her terribly, I’m giving them space to deal with everything. I can't imagine their taking the news of Rick’s betrayal well.
Rick, at the police station, confessed everything about his Rainbow Pearl scheme, most of it we already knew but some new information came out, implicating a few more people.
He also revealed that the men he was selling the pearls to weren't reselling them on the black market but were crushing them and making something else. What that something is, we have no clue.
According to Jensen's head count, about five people died in the shoot and four were severely injured including someone called Gary Fiore, who was also one of the construction workers at the Pink Hotel. Rick also called out the mayor who was in on it and who is currently on the lam, and Xavier who is sitting in jail.
According to Rick, the mayor sold my dad the property out of pure greed but then expected Rick's men to be able to scare me off so he could keep the money and the hotel. Smart plan, except I didn't scare off as easily as they thought.
Either way, news of this has spread far and wide and a few reporters have trickled into town as a result. Rick doesn't think Grey-Eyes' men will return, especially now that the FBI is involved in the investigation. They were all about secrecy and now that it's out in the open, they'll try to stay hidden.
So that's good at least, in terms of my daughter's safety. Still, I'm keeping Monty and Cross around for a little longer.
The high-profile nature of the case also means that when I'm walking through town, I now notice people staring at me but not in disgust as usual, but in awe.
"You're a hero," Emma said when I told her about it. "Everyone knows that you saved your daughter and Rick even though he wronged you. They all admire you now."
I only grunted. I just hoped in their admiration they didn't feel the need to approach me. I've enjoyed my solitude so far.
Especially because I plan to stay in town for a lot longer than I initially thought.
It’s hilarious that when I first got here, I couldn’t wait to leave, and now I’m actually considering living here at least part time. It can work, with a lot of flexibility, and also scaling back my workload and delegating more tasks to other people.
I can set up a base of operations here and communicate with the team all over. Fly over to New York for whatever I need to. It will likely be a messy adjustment at first, but I can make it work. I have to.
Because I can’t imagine Emma would want to live anywhere but Laketown.
The hotel door opens and I hear sounds of laughter and bickering. I rise and open my bedroom to find Rachel fussing over Amelia who is quickly growing tired of it.
The second Amelia spots me, she extracts herself from her mother and bounces over to hug me.
"Hi, Daddy."
"Hi." My heart melts. She's been calling me that all week. "What are you two talking about?"
"Making a bet," Rachel says.
"On what?"
"I'll tell you later."
I shake my head. God only knows what the two are up to . "Amelia, I have to talk to you about something. But can you give your mother and me a minute, I want to talk to her first?"
"Okay," she says. "I'll go see Grandpa Tudor."
"You do that."
She runs to my father's room, and I turn to Rachel, who cocks her head at me like a curious puppy.
"What is it?"
"I..." I don't know how to start. "I’m sorry. About how distant and horrible I was during our marriage."
Rachel frowns. "Where is this coming from?"
"It's...I dunno. I just want you to know that I regret how I treated you. And it was never you. I was the damaged one."
"Okay."
"And this thing with Emma...I'm in love with her. And I’m going to ask her to marry me."
Rachel gives me an amused look. "Is that supposed to upset me?"
Relief floods me at her reaction. "I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure it doesn't."
She shakes her head and gives me a droll look. "You might think you’re God's gift to women, but I’ve been over you for the better part of a decade now. I wouldn't marry you again in a million years, no matter how much your dad begged for it. I’m glad you’re happy."
"Thanks," I say, then venture. "How about you? Are you happy too?"
"Is that your way of asking about my love life?"
I shrug. "I guess." I know, via Amelia, that Rachel has dated over the years but no one is serious enough to introduce to our daughter yet.
Rachel gives a secretive smile. "I’m finding happiness how I can. And that's all I'm saying about that."