Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Imogene
“Now that you’ve had some rest and it’s just us girls,” Mom began, twisting her body toward me as we sat at the counter of a trendy bar in Buckhead. “How are things with Gideon?”
The sound of glasses clinking and low chatter filled the air, but since it was a Sunday night, it wasn’t too crowded.
“They’re good,” I lied.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Is that really the answer you intend to go with, or do you want to take a minute and formulate a different response?”
“What do you mean?” I shifted uncomfortably on my barstool, avoiding her gaze as I took a sip of my old fashioned, savoring in the sharp burn of the bourbon as it warmed my insides.
“As much as I’d love to think this impromptu trip is simply because you miss your mother, I have a feeling something else prompted it. Especially since you’ve been…off.”
“Off? Off how?”
“Don’t forget I carried you inside me for nine months. Raised you to be the amazing woman you are. I know when you’re not being completely honest. Not to mention, I’ve noticed you wince anytime Lachlan mentioned Gideon today. He may not have picked up on it. Or maybe he did and didn’t want to say anything. But I’m your mother. I earned the right to call you out on your bullshit after enduring thirty hours of labor.”
This was one of the main reasons I wanted to come out here. Not just to get away from California and everything going on, but so my mother could help me figure out which way was up. Sure, I could have talked to Melanie. But I needed someone who could look at the situation with fresh eyes. Who understood me the way only a mother could.
“You’re right,” I admitted with a deep exhale.
“I know.” She gave me a playful wink as she took a sip from her champagne. Then she angled toward me, uncrossing and recrossing her legs.
She may not have noticed it, but I saw a few guys at the other end of the bar checking her out. It didn’t matter that she was in her fifties. My mom still looked amazing.
When I was her age, I hoped I looked as good in a little black dress as she did right now.
“So what’s really going on?”
I stared into the distance, attempting to formulate my thoughts. But it all came down to one thing.
“I accused Gideon of being Samuel.”
She sputtered around a mouthful of champagne. “You what ?”she asked once she got her coughing fit under control. “I expected you’d tell me there was a little trouble in paradise. There always is in the beginning of a relationship. But to accuse him of being Samuel?” She shook her head in disbelief. “What triggered this?”
“Everything,” I pushed out, relaxing into my chair as I replayed the last few weeks in my mind. “He’s always reminded me of him. I understand he doesn’t look like him, but he’s always felt like Samuel,” I said, not going into detail about how he felt like Samuel. “Then, when I went over to Liam’s the other day, I overheard him talking with James about something the police found at Alton’s cabin.”
“What’s that?” she prodded.
“A glass with Samuel’s fingerprints on it.”
She tilted her head, her brow furrowed. “I didn’t read about that in any of the reports.”
“I don’t think they’ve released that information yet since it’s still an ongoing investigation. But hearing that…” I shook my head. “It unraveled me.”
“I can imagine.” She covered my hand with hers, giving it a squeeze.
“Melanie tried to talk some sense into me. At first, she did. Reminded me it’s more probable that his prints were left on that glass from five years ago than for him to still be alive. But later that night, I couldn’t sleep and ended up scrolling through old videos and photos of Samuel on my phone. And there was one of him playing with Ollie. He sounded so much like Gideon. Then I found a photo of Samuel without his shirt on and saw the scars on his torso, as well as the birthmark above his hipbone.”
“And Gideon has those, too?”
I nodded. “Gideon has a lot of scars.”
“From the car accident, right?”
“Yes. He also has burn marks in the same spot Samuel did.”
“And the birthmark?”
I shrugged. “It could be the same, but there’s a scar obscuring part of it.”
She shifted her gaze forward, processing all of this before facing me once more. “And how did Gideon react?”
“He was definitely hurt. Accused me of only wanting to be with him because he reminds me of Samuel.”
“Is that why you’re with him?”
“No,” I answered quickly, then sighed. “I don’t know. From the beginning, there was something familiar about him. But is that why I want to be with him?” I shook my head. “I can't say. All I do know is that I feel like I’m losing my mind. One second, I’m convinced I’m crazy for even thinking he could be Samuel. The next, I can’t help but think it’s the only rational explanation for why Gideon would want to be with me. He’s this ridiculously attractive, wealthy billionaire who could have anyone he wants. I’m a…a nobody.”
An understanding smile grew on her lips as she placed a hand on my arm. “I know where you’re coming from, Imogene. I’ve been exactly where you are now. Aside from accusing someone of being my ex. That would never happen.” She snorted a small laugh, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes before she schooled her expression, turning into the mom who always seemed to know what to say.
“When I met Lachlan, I constantly asked myself what he could see in me. Hell, when I realized who he was and that his sister was a true crime podcaster who had been looking into recent deaths she thought were inspired by?—”
“I know,” I interjected so she didn’t have to say my sperm donor’s name.
I probably could have counted on one hand the number of times either of us had uttered it in the past decade.
“After learning that, I convinced myself that was why he was spending time with me. Not because he was interested in me, but because he hoped to get information.”
“When did you know it was the real deal? That he wanted to be with you for you, not because of anything else?”
“When I admitted who I was, what I’d been through because of…” She trailed off, her eyes glossing over as she swallowed hard. “The raw agony I saw on your step-father’s face, Imogene.” She shook her head, taking a few moments to collect herself.
“In retrospect, I think I knew from the second he helped me after I was stung by a jellyfish, but the moment I allowed him to see the real me solidified it. That’s the mark of real love. Not sending flowers or buying jewelry or romantic dinners. Acknowledging one’s past and accepting it as if it’s your own? There’s no greater gift. Lachlan’s done that from the beginning, even when I was too stubborn to admit it.”
With a sideways glance, she studied my reaction to her words with intense scrutiny. “And something about the way I saw you interact with Gideon makes me think he’s done that, too.”
Memories of our short time together flooded back.
From the first time I noticed him during one of my morning runs, the way the heat of his stare sent a shiver down my spine. To the first time I spoke with him when I asked him to watch Gertie, my surfboard. To when I was nearly killed in that alley and he came to my rescue. To him showing up at the hospital with a change of clothes. To his surprise birthday gift of a dress I’d been fawning over, along with a day at the spa with Melanie. To our stolen moments during my birthday party when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. To finally allowing myself to open my heart again after losing Samuel.
To the moment Gideon opened himself to me, allowing me to see all his scars, both inside and out.
To the moment I allowed him to see all my scars, too, both inside and out.
To him accepting them as his, just as I did.
Maybe it was fate, like the barista at The Daily Grind stated. Maybe there wasn’t anything nefarious about our meeting. Maybe he simply saw me and felt the same inexplicable pull I had.
“I’m not saying it’s always going to be easy,” Mom cut through, her voice tender and understanding. “Unfortunately, you grew up thinking you could trust a man who ended up betraying that trust in the worst way imaginable. It’s only natural for you to always wait for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. I still struggle with it myself, even though Lachlan and I have been married for over a decade. The key is to find someone who understands your fears, your past, but still embraces them all the same. But you have to let him embrace them.”
As I listened to her words, my lips lifted in the corners, my brain no longer clouded with any deceitful reason for why Gideon would want to be with me. Instead, all I could think about were the incredible things he’d done for me. Did he have his faults? Of course. But so did I.
“Based on that smile, I’m guessing Gideon’s done that.”
“He’s repeatedly told me that my time with Samuel made me into the woman I am today. That he’s falling for that woman. And what do I do?” I blew out a soft laugh, silently berating myself for my behavior. “Accuse him of being my dead boyfriend, all because Samuel’s fingerprints, in all probability, were left on that glass when he was alive. Why can’t I just enjoy this, instead of finding a reason to doubt him at every turn?” I asked rhetorically, but my mom didn’t take it that way.
Or maybe she saw it as another opportunity to give me advice.
“Because that’s what you’re still hard-wired to do after living with a narcissistic sociopath for the first several years of your life.” She placed her hand over mine once more, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t let him win. Don’t let him still have this control over you. You know what they say, don’t you? About the best form of revenge?”
I nodded. “Living well.”
“That’s right. It’s time for you to live well, Imogene. Regardless of whether that includes a certain tall, dark, and handsome man or not. But I have a feeling it does.” She winked.
“Maybe,” I replied mischievously.
“On that note…” She scooted off the barstool with effortless grace. “I need the ladies’ room. Take it from me. Getting old sucks. I feel like I have to pee every twenty minutes, thanks to you.”
“You love me,” I sang.
She wrapped her arms around me, kissing my cheek. “More than anything.” She gave me one last squeeze, then released me, making her way through the bar and toward the ladies’ room.
As I continued to sip on my drink, my eyes went to my phone. I hadn’t spoken to Gideon since our argument, but I needed to let him know I felt horrible. At least until I could tell him in person.
Grabbing my phone, I navigated to my most recent text exchange with Gideon and started typing.
Me:
I don’t expect you to respond, and you don’t have to. I know I fucked up, and I own that.
I still have a hard time wondering what someone like you could see in me, so I jump to ridiculous conclusions, like accusing you of being my boyfriend who’s somehow managed to come back from the dead.
Which is impossible.
He’s gone.
I know that.
Long story short, I still have trust issues. I’m not making excuses. That’s not the purpose of this message. I just want you to know that I’m sorry.
I get that apologizing in a text is lame, but until I can do it face-to-face, if you even want to see me again after the way I treated you, this will have to do.
I’m sorry.
I’m still falling for you.
But I understand if you’re no longer willing to fall with me.
As I hit send on my final text, I took another large swallow of my drink, watching the status change from delivered to read.
I prayed I’d soon see the little dots appear below my message, indicating he was typing a response.
But I never did.
I couldn’t blame him if he no longer wanted to pursue things with me. I’m not sure I’d be so quick to forgive if the shoe were on the other foot.
If I learned anything from this ordeal, it was that it was time to let Samuel go.
For once and for all.
Otherwise, I’d keep sabotaging my future. And Gideon could be my future. Or he could have been had I just thought rationally instead of jumping to insane conclusions.
Pushing out a long sigh, I returned my phone to my purse, more than aware I’d drive myself crazy looking at it all night if I didn’t. My mother didn’t see me much these days. She deserved my full attention.
I brought my glass back to my lips, hoping the alcohol would lessen the heartache, when a prickle of awareness trickled down my spine, followed by a hand grazing my shoulder blades.
I turned around, about to berate whoever thought he could touch me without my permission.
But any protest immediately left me when I was met with Gideon’s familiar gaze.