Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
SHAE
A week passes, and it’s like we’re frozen in time.
Storm has been pushing forward to connect with the kids. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he’s there. He tells the kids goodnight before putting them to bed, even though Tempest hasn’t acknowledged his presence once, and Raiden is wary but still follows Storm like a magnet.
As for us…well, it’s like Storm decided there was only room to repair one relationship, and he chose the one with the kids. Not that I blame him. I’d do the same if I were in his shoes.
Still, there’s a stupid part of me that’s a little hurt at being set aside, even though my more logical side sees things for what it is.
And also, my logical side likes to remind me that even though Storm and I haven’t stolen away for any more private moments, he still manages to touch me, even if it’s in passing.
His smiles feel like the sun coming out—a fact that my logical side also likes to remind me is dangerous and can only lead to nowhere good.
So, I do the thing that’s always guaranteed to bring me down to Earth: I run to my mama.
“It’s about time you gave your mama a call,” she says as soon as she answers. I grimace. Mama has never been one for texting, and while she’s called me daily since I got back from Paris, I haven’t spent more than three minutes on the phone with her, instead giving the call to Tempest and Raiden.
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur, feeling twelve years old again. Mama doesn’t say anything, letting the silence resonate between us like an accusation.
All right. Time to pay up.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been very forthcoming, Mama,” I say.
A breeze kicks up from where I sit on the balcony.
I’m right outside a library I discovered while exploring the mansion a few days ago.
The space wasn’t cleaned like the others we use regularly, with thick tarps covering furniture and dust coating the bookshelves.
I was drawn to the French doors and the stone balcony overlooking the garden, and for the last few days, it’s been my private retreat.
“What a mess, baby,” she says. I can picture what she’s doing now—sitting on the sofa she won’t let me replace, with a cup of coffee on the side table and her bonnet still on before she decides to greet the day.
“I’ll explain,” I say, cracking my neck from side to side. “First, about Storm. He…showed up at my office a few weeks ago, while you were still in Paris with the kids.”
Mama stays silent, so I continue. I know she won’t offer her verdict until I’ve laid it all on the table.
“When I met you there, I didn’t know…” I inhale, preparing myself for my next words. “I didn’t know he didn’t know about the kids.”
Mama sucks in a shocked breath.
“Shae Olivya Rivers, you explain yourself right now!” Mama presses, and I shrink into myself as a cardinal lands on the railing.
“I tried. God, Mama, I tried. I called him every day, left messages. After the twins were born, I still called. I thought he didn’t care. But he never got them.”
I sniff, and when did I start crying? I hate crying, and I’ve shed more tears over Storm Sandoval in the last few weeks than ever since the last time I had drama with him.
“I see,” Mama says, her skepticism clear in her voice.
“It’s true, Mama. I know it sounds like a line, but…just trust me that I’ve checked it out and he really didn’t know.”
We both fall silent, and I watch as the bird hops from one end of the railing to the other before flying away toward the trees.
“Well, in that case,” Mama says, “that poor boy.”
She sounds shaken, as if the reality that he’s been unaware of his children for nearly a decade is a lot to comprehend.
“How does he feel about being a father?” she asks cautiously, and I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.
“I have to admit, he’s a natural. It’s…it makes me so sad, Mama. If he’d known, I can’t help but believe he would have been the best father. Loving, involved, completely dedicated to his children.”
“And to you?” Mama adds, and my heart drops to my toes. What would have become of me and Storm? If I’d been able to reach him after our breakup, what would have happened?
Would we have moved on to other partners? Figured out how to co-parent and bury the past?
Or would we have ultimately found our way back to each other?
Storm’s uncle, and the fact that he murdered Storm’s parents, ping-pong around my brain. What would have happened if his parents had lived?
Would he have done what he did?
No.
I shove away the silly, hopeful part of my brain that wants me to believe Storm broke up with me because it’s what he wanted to do…not out of some sense of care.
Protection.
I clutch my chest and bend over at the waist, pressing the phone to my ear as I lay my cheek against my knees.
“I don’t know about that, Mama,” I say, my voice like a whisper.
Mama hums again.
“Do you still love him, Shae?”
She would ask that question—the damn question I’ve been avoiding like a telemarketing call about my vehicle’s extended warranty.
And yet, the answer still spins and spins and spins.
“It would be stupid if I were to, Mama,” I say, sitting up and trying to access my power.
Trying to feel more like myself…or, I guess, who I am today.
Am I still her? Am I Liv, or have I slipped right back into the starry-eyed college girl who loved Storm Sandoval to the ends of the earth?
“You’re not answering my question, baby,” Mama adds softly. I can almost feel her palm on my cheek as she presses me for a real response.
An honest one.
I’m not ready to be honest.
“Mama,” I say, my voice breaking. I’m pitiful.
I let the unanswered question hang between us, closing my eyes as if it could shut out the unspoken truth. Finally, Mama hums again.
“Just be careful, baby,” she says, clearing her throat to signal the mood change. “If things go south, it’s not just you who has to deal with the aftermath.”
I wipe my eyes with my fingers and my nose with the back of my hand.
“Right. The twins,” I say. Shaking my head, I grapple for control. “I won’t let him hurt them.” Never. I’ll never let Storm do to them what he did to me.
“I know you won’t let them get hurt, Shae. Just don’t hurt yourself in the process.”
I nod, unable to say anything else to that mic drop.
Opening my mouth to wrap up the call, I pause, frowning, when I hear another voice coming from my mom’s end of the line.
A deep voice. A male voice.
“Mama, who in the world is in your house at this early hour?” I try to keep the scandalized tone from my voice, but I don’t quite succeed.
“Hush,” she says. “That boy of yours sent over no fewer than fifteen guards to my house. Most of them stay out on the street and patrol the area.”
She sniffs.
“ But …?” I drawl, leaning forward into my seat as if I could grab more information out of her.
“But—” I can tell she pulls her phone away from her mouth from the muffled words coming through the line.
“ But? Mama, what does ‘but’ mean?” I inhale, close to giggling. Mama hasn’t entertained any male companionship since Daddy died. They were together for more than thirty years, but Mama is a young woman.
“Oh, relax, Shae,” she says, whispering.
“Mama, why are you whispering? ” I ask, matching her tone.
“That’s just Roland,” she says, as if I’m supposed to know who the hell Roland is.
“Mama, who ?” I say, and she shushes me.
“Roland,” she says, her voice dropping even lower, “is one of the guards Storm sent. He’s a kind man, and he’d been sitting out in that hot car protecting me for hours and hours, so he’s just come inside for a cold drink of water. That’s all!”
My mama is a liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Okay, Mama. Keep your secrets,” I say, smiling and feeling better than I did a few minutes ago. It’s a wonder what focusing on other people’s shit will do for one’s disposition.
“Child, bye!” she says and hangs up on me.
Lowering the phone to my lap, I continue to smile and close my eyes, tilting my face to the sun.
I sink into the moment.
Birds chirping.
The faint sounds of vehicles outside the compound.
The wind moving through the trees.
This is the most peaceful moment I’ve had since seeing Storm in my office all those weeks ago.
…So why does that make me so sad?
My phone buzzes, and it’s an email from Melissa.
Subject: Keystone - Need to talk ASAP
I grimace. I’ve been playing ostrich and avoiding everything with Orisun and Keystone, which isn’t fair to Melissa at all.
There’s a lot going on, especially with Kenyon Braxton’s death and Zane’s betrayal.
I know the message has to do with the board meeting Zane called, and the likely vote of no-confidence.
What would life be like if I didn’t have Orisun anymore? I’ve thought about retirement as a vague thing, something I’m working toward, but it doesn’t feel real.
Now, I’m faced with the real prospect of being out of a job, and I have no idea what that means for me. At least, what that means for me in the ways that matter most.
I shiver, and a cloud goes past the sun, casting everything in gray. I’m in real danger; my company is in real danger.
And I haven’t the first clue how to get out of this mess I’ve found myself in.
That’s because you need Storm.
Shaking my head, I darken my phone screen and close my eyes again.
I do need Storm’s help—at least, when it comes to this. And getting his help means getting closer to him than feels safe.
But then…is any of this safe? Certainly not.
So…what am I to do?
My phone buzzes again, and I don’t look at the screen. I don’t even pick it up. I just allow myself this moment of peace until I have to face the fire.