Chapter 31
Jasper
From the moment I first saw her, I’d known that Evie was smart. But watching her captivate hundreds of people and speak so eloquently was an experience. And not just for me. All over the room, people scribbled notes furiously, their eyes bouncing from their notebooks to her and back again.
My chest expanded with pride as she was recognized and celebrated for her talents.
After the roundtable, one person after another rushed up to her with questions and to introduce themselves.
The woman struggled to accept all the compliments, but she handled every conversation with grace.
The old Jasper may have felt insecure. May have compared his small list of accomplishments to what Evie had done with her life and fallen woefully short.
But the day Vincent was born, that mentality disappeared.
I was more than happy to be here watching her.
Helping her. Cheering for her alongside our son.
I was consumed by peace. Because this was what I was supposed to do. Who I was supposed to be. It had taken a long time to get here, but I’d found myself. And I wouldn’t let go.
Once the room cleared out, we headed to the restaurant just off the lobby. The place was mostly empty at the moment, so we settled in one of the large booths, Vincent still in my arms, gnawing on his Sophie toy and exploring the leather of the booth seating with his tiny fingers.
The glow radiating from Evie earlier had dimmed. In fact, she seemed dimmer in general.
Heart aching for her, I squeezed her hand. “You okay?”
She nodded, but rather than respond, she stood and peered toward the restaurant’s entrance.
I turned, following her line of sight, and found an elegant woman walking our way. She looked like a runway model, tall and willowy and holding a massive designer purse.
“Evie.” She opened her arms and hugged Evie warmly.
“I’m Giovanna,” she said as she stepped back and looked at me. “And this gorgeous bug must be baby Vincent. Grandpa would have loved his namesake.”
She and Evie sat on the other side of the booth, side by side, and chatted.
The family resemblance was strong. Both had dark hair, pouty lips, and expressive dark eyes.
But where Evie was soft, vibrant, and lively, Giovanna was hard, cold, and impassive.
As time went on, Evie’s posture relaxed, like she was feeling more comfortable. She missed her sister, so I was thankful she hadn’t chosen to bail on this visit.
Giovanna hadn’t asked to hold Vincent, and though they’d both seemed to settle well into the conversation, there was still this standoffish distance between them.
It was so foreign to me. My own family was overwhelming and effusive. Especially my sisters. But even Josh had recently shocked me with his openness.
After about ten minutes, the air in the restaurant changed. There was a drop in pressure. A cold shift I couldn’t explain. The room suddenly felt wrong, and all my first responder instincts kicked in.
Holding Vincent to my chest protectively, I scanned our surroundings. Quickly, I zeroed in on a newcomer.
The man was in his early sixties, tall and heavyset, with a graying combover and a very fancy watch that he checked as he walked our way. He had that performative kind of authority.
I didn’t need an introduction. I knew.
“Two of my daughters in one place,” he said, his tone harsh. “What a happy coincidence.”
Every muscle in Evie’s body clenched, and Vincent began to fuss in my arms, like he could sense his mama’s distress.
Quickly, I found a binkie and rocked my little guy against my chest, making soothing shushing sounds.
All the color drained from Giovanna’s face as she turned and gave her father a fake smile. “Hi, Dad. We were just catching up.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Evie said softly.
“Nonsense.” He pulled up a chair, making himself at home at the end of our table. “Why wouldn’t a father be able to visit his daughter?”
The smile he directed at her was wrong. Full of practiced warmth, with edges as sharp as glass. His eyes roamed over Evie, then Vincent, and then me.
“You finally convinced someone to settle for you, I see. Congratulations.”
The words landed heavily, like a blow to the gut. My instincts only grew stronger, my blood running hot and my brain screaming at me to pick this motherfucker up and throw him out of here.
I’d fought fires and rescued people from floods and car accidents. Helped men who were cornered and desperate and scared. I could read danger. But this was an entirely different kind of danger. Psychological rather than physical. This man killed with words and enjoyed it.
“You couldn’t even tell me my grandson was visiting New York,” he said. “Giovanna had to be the one to fill me in. Really, Evangelina.” He gave her a disdainful look. “You never had any sense of propriety or gratitude.”
At the same moment Evie flinched, my jaw locked tight. It took all my strength not to jump up and tell this guy that he wasn’t allowed to speak to her like that. But I waited, sensing not just fear in Evie. This other emotion was stronger, fiercer, as it rose up inside her.
“You don’t get to do this anymore,” she said calmly, her head held high.
He scoffed. “There it is. The dramatics. You’ve always been good at making yourself a victim, haven’t you?” He shook his head. “If you would have listened to me, done what I told you, you wouldn’t have ended up with a bastard child like this.”
Evie was shaking, her eyes flashing with rage. Still, I waited, giving her a chance to stand up for herself. Knowing it was in her to do it.
“For years, I took your abuse.,” she finally said. “Believed you when you told me I was the problem. I beat myself up for every misstep and every failure. Eventually, though, I realized that you’re nothing but an abusive little man who destroys others to make himself feel good.”
Pride unfurled in my chest. Her rage, her clear controlled anger, was long overdue. Now, though, strength radiated from her body.
The bastard’s mouth curled in a humorless smile. “Abuse? It’s called fatherly love,” he spat. “All I wanted was for you to be your best. To actually amount to something, you ungrateful brat. And after all I did for you, all I paid for, you’re still nothing more than a disappointment.”
As much as I loved watching Evie stand up for herself, I had reached my breaking point. Slowly, I stood and passed Vincent to his mother. Then I crossed my arms. He was a big guy, but I would absolutely destroy him if he made one more nasty comment.
“You’re done here. Leave,” I said in a low voice.
He tilted his head up, assessing me with a sneer. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
“The man who won’t let you speak to her like that ever again.” My tone was dark and dangerous and unfamiliar. But my control had begun to slip.
The old man’s eyes flickered with what might be fear, but it died quickly. Standing, he loomed over her. “You’ll regret this. Shutting me out, having your goon threaten me. If you do this, I won’t be around to bail you out, and we both know you’re too soft and stupid to make it on your own.”
Evie’s reply was soft but steady, her dark eyes full of fire. “I’ve already made it on my own, Dad. I survived. Not because of you but in spite of you. Now please go, and I’d appreciate it if you never spoke to my family again.”
My heart twisted. She was rewriting the story in real time, unwilling to hide behind her shame. It was beautiful, watching her stand on her own and protect our son. Hell, protect me too.
My family.
The words bounced around in my skull, and in this moment, I fell even harder for her.
He opened his mouth like he was going to argue. Instead, shoulders dropping, he shook his head and turned away. “Come on, Giovanna,” he said as he strode toward the exit.
Giovanna scooted toward the end of the booth, her expression full of pain.
“You don’t have to go,” Evie murmured.
Giovanna gave her a small smile. “I love you.” With that, she gathered her purse and headed out after their father.
I unclenched my hands and exhaled, long and slow. Then I turned to Evie, who clutched Vincent to her chest, her eyes glassy and her chest heaving.
Quickly, I rounded the table and took Giovanna’s spot. Then I held the two of them tightly, willing their heartbeats to anchor me to the ground.
“He doesn’t get to scare me anymore,” she said eventually.
I rested my chin on the top of her head, relishing the smell of her shampoo and the warmth of Vincent’s little body between us.
“No,” I said. “He never will.” She was strong enough to handle him on her own, but if there ever came a time when she wasn’t, I’d ensure that fucker would never get near them again.
Vincent began to fuss, probably ready to be fed, and the noise of the hotel lobby seeped back in, bringing us back to the present.
As we got in the elevator to head back to our room, my entire being shifted. This time, it wasn’t those protective instincts flaring up. No, this sensation was quieter and deeper.
I had always known I’d do anything to keep them safe.
But now I had a new goal: to be the place where they were always safe.