Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
VALERIE
"I don’t get what you're so upset about." Crystal is stretched out on her sofa, bare feet kicked up onto the coffee table, eating cottage cheese straight from the container. "I have a hard time getting a guy to pay for dinner when we go on a date, let alone drop a million bucks on me."
I slump down in my seat because she's obviously not understanding where I'm coming from on this. "It's not really about the money." I sigh, trying one more time to explain myself and the conflicting emotions I’m struggling to untangle. "It's about what the money represents."
I didn't know where else to go when I left the condo, and I’m beginning to regret my decision to come here. I love Crystal. I will always appreciate how much she's done for me. But when it comes to discussing the deeply emotional baggage I brought to Sweet Side?
She's not it.
"The money represents a man who did exactly what you sought him out to do." My former roommate shoves in another spoonful of lumpy, white cheese and continues talking. "You two made a deal. Fynn would help keep you from having to go back to Minnesota, and you would restore his reputation back to its former glory." She swings the spoon around, eyes widening. "It sounds like you both got exactly what you wanted. You should be happy."
"I am happy." The admission comes out quickly. A knee-jerk response to her insinuation that I’m not. Because—for the first time in probably ever—I am genuinely happy.
That's what makes this even more confusing. It's why I needed space to think and sort out my emotions before I dug into them with Fynn.
Unfortunately, Crystal isn't being much help.
She gives me a grin, oblivious to her uselessness. "Perfect. Problem solved." She shoves up from the sofa, and makes a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing her cell phone off the counter. "You want to order pizza to celebrate?"
I blow out a long breath as I stand, trying to expel my frustration with it. Crystal was exactly the person I needed when I was angry and jaded and bitter. Those are all emotions she was well-equipped to handle.
Self-reflection? Not so much.
And I'm afraid that's what this really boils down to. A big, old, steaming pile of looking inward. And it stinks.
"No, thanks." My stomach rumbles as I get up, making me even more upset over my inability to process my feelings. Whatever Fynn was making for dinner smelled divine, and now I'm missing it. All because I might be emotionally stunted. Can't imagine how that happened.
"I think I'm just going to head out." I pause where Crystal stands placing an order for delivery from her favorite pizzeria, and squeeze her in a quick hug. "Thanks for the talk. I'll call you next week and we can go have lunch."
She looks up from her screen, shooting me a grin as she wiggles her eyebrows. "You gonna take me to that fancy place you went on your wedding day?”
I roll my eyes but smile. “Of course I’ll take you to the fancy place.” I back away, smirking. “I’ll even pay. But don’t expect me to drop a million bucks on you.”
She’s laughing loudly as I close the door to her apartment behind me and I can’t help but feel a little better. Crystal might not have helped me navigate the murky waters of emotional trauma, but she’s fucking great at lifting my mood. I know it’s a temporary reprieve, but I’ll take it.
Unfortunately, it doesn't last nearly long enough. Only until I walk out the front door of the building. Because that's when there's no way I can avoid thinking about where I have to go now. I don't have many people in this world I can turn to. Even fewer who can help me with my current predicament.
So I only have one option. Will there be a conflict of interest? Probably. But I don’t have a choice.
Turning away from Crystal’s building, I make my way back across downtown Sweet Side, following the same path Fynn and I took the night we met. With each step my stomach sinks more and more, because I know what I have to do. I’m dreading it, but it has to be done.
By the time I reach the high-rise I'm aiming for, my palms are sweating and I'm ready to gag on my panic. I don't know what's about to happen, but it could change everything.
In a good way, or a bad one.
The doorman inside greets me with a smile and a wave. "Good evening, Mrs. Hadaway."
I'm not sure how, but I manage to give him a smile in spite of the nausea tying my innards into knots.
He opens the private elevator to the penthouse for me, tipping his head my way as I go inside. By some miracle, I manage to hold a pleasant expression until the doors close. Then, I sag against the wall, letting my head tip back against the hard surface as I take in deep, gulping breaths.
Maybe this is a bad idea. A terrible, awful decision. I should probably just suck it up, and figure this out on my own. Or, I could simply pretend none of this happened. Ignore Fynn paying my father off, along with everything that came before it.
But ignoring things didn't work so well for me in the past, and I want to live a different life. To be a different person. And, as painful as it is to admit, I could probably use to be a better person. I could stand to admit to the mistakes I’ve made and take ownership of the pain they caused. Especially, since I don't ever want to be anything like my father .
The elevator reaches my destination, and the doors begin to part. I take one more deep breath, trying to force myself to be brave.
But the opening is barely a foot wide when I start to choke on that false bravado. Helena is on the other side, and it looks a whole lot like she's waiting for me. The only reason she’d be expecting me is if Fynn called her. He and his mother are close, so it’s not surprising. But it sucks.
My shoulders drop, because as much as I hate having to do it, I still wanted to be the one to tell her how awful I was to her son.
It looks like Fynn beat me to the punch.
When she opens her arms, I'm a little stunned. Even more so, when she gives me a soft smile. "My darling daughter-in-law." Helena wiggles her fingers, beckoning me her way. "Come here."
I stumble out of the elevator and fall into her warm embrace. I don't manage another breath before I start to cry, letting her hold me like a child as I sob against her shoulder. She gently pats me, making hushed noises of understanding I know are intended to soothe me. They make everything better and worse at the same time.
I'm sure it would come as no shock that the same father who essentially planned to sell me off was never warm and fuzzy, but my mother wasn't either, so this is the first time I've ever been held like this by someone who feels like a parent. It's the first time I’ve felt this sort of love, and that only makes me cry harder .
Because I'm about to disappoint the fuck out of Helena.
Since this might be not only the first, but likely the only, time I get this sort of an embrace, I let it drag out for what is probably a little too long before I finally suck it up and lean back, meeting the clear blue gaze she passed on to her amazing son. "I screwed a bunch of shit up."
Her head tips, lips softly curving as one hand lifts to gently cup my cheek. "We all do, darling." She gives my cheek a pat before looping her arm around my shoulders and directing me toward the sitting room. "Come in here and tell me all about it. Nicholas is mixing up cocktails as we speak." She gives me a little wink. "I thought you might need something to take the edge off."
She has no freaking idea.
I nod, miraculously managing to keep the waterworks at bay. "That sounds nice."
When we reach the sitting room, Helena shoos one of the dogs off the sofa before gracefully lowering herself to the seat, tugging me alongside her. "Tell me what's happened. What has my charming, but occasionally dense, son done?"
I swallow hard, because Fynn hasn't done anything wrong. Not really.
I'm not sure what the heck I thought was going to happen when my father found out about my marriage. Of course he would expect money and of course he would expect Fynn to give it to him.
And of course he would pay it. Even if Fynn wasn't the kind of man who would do whatever it takes to keep me safe, what other option would he have had? Tell my father no? Risk the possibility that his threats on my life weren't empty and I’d end up smeared across the glass of his pristine condo, obscuring the oceanfront view?
I sniff, because I'm starting to tear up again. "Fynn didn't do anything.” I blink and inhale deeply, trying to slow my running nose. "I'm the one who fucked-up." I shut my eyes, guilt ravaging my insides. "A lot."
"And, like I told you earlier, everyone does at one time or another." Helena clasps one of my hands between both of hers. "But, based on the phone call I received from my son, he is not a completely innocent party in this."
She's not totally wrong. But what Fynn did was nothing compared to the things I've done, and that's why I'm so upset, because if this is how I feel, I can only imagine how all I did made him feel. “It’s complicated.”
Helena’s smile takes on a knowing line. “It always is.” She settles back against the pile of brocade and tassel cushioning the back of the sofa. “Fynn’s father and I used to bicker like cats and dogs.”
I don’t hide my surprise. I can’t. “Really?”
Over the past few weeks Fynn and I have been together nearly around the clock. I go to work with him every morning. To his mother’s with him every afternoon. We spend our evenings at home, having dinner and talking about anything and everything. I don’t think there are many subjects we haven’t touched on, and I love to hear what he thinks about all of it. Almost as much as I love the way he listens to what I think .
But I enjoy stories about his life growing up the most. Hearing about London and the loving, nuclear family he’d been lucky enough to be born into made me surprisingly happy. My own, dysfunctional upbringing left me thinking maybe that’s all there really was. That maybe no one was really happy or loved or… Normal.
But because of him, I was starting to believe that wasn’t true. Only now Helena has me second-guessing that hope.
Maybe coming here wasn't a great idea. Maybe I should have just shoved this all down the way I used to. Done whatever it took to pretend it didn't happen and moved forward, hoping things would be different.
But then Helena laughs, the sound surprisingly light and warm considering the topic of conversation. "Of course. We were married for nearly twenty-five years." She angles her body my way, propping an elbow on the back of the sofa before leaning into her fist, expression filled with fondness. "He was a brilliant and opinionated man who married an equally opinionated woman. We loved and trusted each other enough to know where the lines were." Her free hand comes to rest on my knee. "I won't say we didn't occasionally argue, but it was rare. Our bickering was about things that didn't matter. When they did matter, we talked. It was what worked for us, and you and Fynn will find what works for you. But don't for a second believe that getting upset or having harsh words means you love each other any less." Her tone softens. "It's what happens after those words that shows how you really feel. The first thing my son did was call me to make sure I was prepared to take care of you when you got here." Her smile turns sly. "And you have yet to say a bad word about him to me."
I blow out a breath that gets a little wobbly at the end. Coming here was definitely the wrong idea, because Helena is only making me feel worse. Knowing Fynn was looking out for me, even at a time like this, hammers the dagger of guilt deeper into my chest, taking up more available space then I have to offer. Which means something has to come out.
Apparently that something is a confession.
"I've lied to him." I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see how the way she's looking at me changes. "A lot."
"Well." Helena's tone is different, but I can't quite identify how. "Does he know this?"
I nod, still closing my eyes. "He knows everything." In a continued attempt to avoid looking at Helena, I let my face fall to my hands, leaning forward against my knees. "When we first met I didn't expect things to go the way they did, so I didn't tell him everything about my life."
"Omitting is not lying, Valerie. We can't confess all our sins to people the instant we meet them."
I straighten, forcing my eyes Helena’s way, because she deserves for me to face her. "But these were important things. Things I should have told him, and I didn't." My shoulders slump. "Now he's done the same thing. Now I know exactly how I made him feel and it's fucking miserable."
"Oh, darling girl." Helena grabs me, dragging me forward to squeeze me in another tight hug. "You didn't come here because you're mad at him. You came here because you are mad at yourself."
I nod against her shoulder. "I’m an ass and he's wonderful, and now he spent a million dollars on me, and that just makes it all worse."
Helena’s body stills. "A million dollars?"
I nearly groan, because I should not have told her that, but it's too late now. "He paid my father a million dollars to leave me alone."
"Huh." Helena sounds surprised, and I understand. It is shocking. "I would've expected it to be more. I'll have to let him know how impressive his negotiation skills are."
I lean back, because now it's my turn to be surprised. "You knew?"
Helena gives me another sly smile. "Of course I knew. Fynn and I keep very few secrets from each other." Her head tips to one side on a sigh. "It's actually been the reason for a number of his relationships ending."
"I like how close you two are." The admission is hushed, because for some reason I feel like that should be a secret. "I've never been able to be close with my parents, and it makes me happy that he’s so close with you." I press my lips together, but can't stop myself from adding on, "I hoped it would mean maybe I could be close to you too."
Helena smooths down my hair, the touch gentle and motherly and exactly what I need. "That is exactly what it means." Her hand rests on my shoulder as she leans closer, holding my gaze. "And just so you know, the only person who expects you to be perfect, is you, Valerie. We all make mistakes. You and Fynn will say things you don't mean, but the key is to always talk about it. To know both of your feelings are real and valid. To be as ready to apologize as you are to forgive." She wiggles her drawn-on brows at me. "And to do your best to give me lots, and lots of grandchildren."
The last bit is so unexpected that I start to laugh. "I'll see what I can do."
Helena's hands come up to cradle my face. "That is all I can ask for."
I bask in the warmth of her presence for a few seconds longer before blowing out a breath and squaring my shoulders. "I should probably go home."
"You could." Helena's eyes drift to the grandfather clock tucked into one corner. "Or you could wait ten more minutes for my son to come here. I can't imagine he will be able to stand being away from you for much longer than that."
I like her optimism, but I don't share it. My retreat was not a great one, and probably left him feeling the same way it left me. Focused on how much more I'd fucked up than he had.
But hopefully he feels the same way his mother does about apologies and forgiveness, because I'm ready to apologize my brains out. If I'm lucky, maybe he can do half that much forgiving.
"I'll go home. He was making me dinner, and I didn't get the chance to eat any of it." I hesitate just a second longer, putting every bit of sincerity I possess into my next words. "Thank you. So much. "
"You don't have to thank me, darling." Helena pats my face before dropping her hands. "This is what mothers are for."
My throat tightens, because that hasn't been my experience, but maybe it will be moving forward. And I'm sure as fuck moving forward.
Helena walks me to the elevator, giving me a wave as the doors close. By the time I reach the lobby, my shoulders are straighter, and my chin is lifted, head held high. I can do this. I will do this. I've spent an entire life proving my value and worth and ability to others.
Now I'm going to prove it to myself.
I march out the front doors and onto the sidewalk, turning toward home. I'm ready to see Fynn. I'm ready to fix this. I'm ready to—
Brakes squeal beside me, making me sidestep, a little worried someone is about to jump the curb. When I look over, a dark car with blacked out windows has come to a stop directly beside me. The back door flies open and a strange man jumps out, his slitted gaze fixed on where I stand. I suck in a breath, preparing to scream as he rushes me, but I don't manage to make a single sound before his hand clamps over my mouth and his arm hooks around my waist, squeezing tight enough to hurt as he drags me into the car with him. I tumble across the seat, kicking and scratching mindlessly as the vehicle lurches forward.
But all the fight drains out of me when the person in the passenger’s side turns to smirk at me between the seats. "Hello, Valerie."