Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Turning into the driveway of the Sinclair estate always makes me feel a trove of emotions, especially now, sitting next to the man who’s stolen my heart.
A heart that I would give him freely, if only it still belonged to me.
Memories flash across my mind as we get closer to the home I used to share with my Henry.
It seems like a lifetime ago, yet like yesterday, when the two of us moved in and grew in love as we built our family.
“The kids are going to be so glad you’re staying with them for a few weeks to help with little Vanya. Kat couldn’t stop talking about how lucky she is to have you. I know her mama, Irina, would be so happy to know that her little girl has someone who truly loves her.”
“Oh, Ivan, I could never replace her mother! I hope you know that I don’t intend to try to replace Irina in any capacity.”
Ivan takes my hand in his and places them on my thigh. “My love, I know you don’t. What you have with Katarina is special in its own right. You don’t have to replace someone to be special, you know? There is room for Irina and you…in both of our hearts…”
“I think it’s harder for me to see that, being an only child and all.” I chuckle, squeezing his hand.
“I hope you’ll come around to it one day, l’vitsa, because until you do, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to have you the way I desire.” He parks, making quick work of getting around the car to open my door and help me out.
“Thank you, Ivan, for everything. I’ll see you soon?”
“I’m going to swing by Sasha and Lucy’s house for a bit, then go back to our—your place for the night to finish up some work. I’ll be back tomorrow before the kids get here, love.”
A chaste kiss to my brow is his only affection before he walks away, and I stand frozen in the doorway, watching him drive off.
“The kids,” he said. Our kids. The irony of the matter isn’t lost on me that his claim to this estate is now just as strong as my own.
Perhaps even stronger, considering the lady of the house is his daughter.
Closing the door behind me as I walk into the foyer, I look around. Everything looks the same. Kat’s renovations to the living areas have been minimal. She claims she fell in love the moment she walked in and didn’t want to change a thing. However, for the first time, it feels different.
Even after my dearest and I moved closer to the city, the estate remained the lifeblood of our family.
I was worried things would change when Henry inherited it at his father’s passing, but they never did.
Of course, he was hardly here in the first place.
It wasn’t until he married Kat that he decided to finally settle in, but even then, it still felt like my home.
Maybe even more with the life my newest daughter brought back to these walls.
But now, with the birth of the newest Sinclair heir, I feel more like a page in the history book of a building that will long outlive me.
I make my way to my room, tired from the long, emotional day of welcoming a new baby.
To anyone else, the place would be silent, but not to me.
The sounds of laughter and joy fill the air as I pass through the den where the kids used to stay up late playing games.
The stern voice of my Henry rings loud down the hall from his study, where his business calls would take place long into the night.
The door to the dining room mutes the raucous fights that would break out at breakfast before school, as all three moody kids came to blows over who got the last bagel.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I try to turn right and go to the room that’s been mine since my son took over, but my feet take me left, to Henry and Kat’s room.
A room I haven’t set foot in since the death of the man I shared it with.
The door is already cracked, so I push it open and take a step inside.
Just one little step is all it takes for every memory of the love we shared to come flooding back into my mind.
A second is all I can stand before I’m stumbling back.
With tears streaming down my face, I close the door and run to the far end of the hall to my mother-in-law's suite.
None of the kids know this, but those rooms belonged to their father growing up.
Henry never wanted any of his children in them.
“There was too much sadness,” he would say.
But when he passed, I knew I wanted them.
My sweet son told me I could keep my owner's suite, but that was too much.
I needed something that belonged to my love, though.
I was hoping just a little of his essence would remain, if just in the spirit of the room…
Slamming my door behind me, I sink to my knees, bawling like a baby. God, how could I even entertain the idea of being with another man?
“I’m so sorry, darling, I will only ever be yours. Please, please forgive me…I miss you more than you could ever imagine, and I…I was just so lonely. Oh, Henry, I don’t know what to do.”
The wind from my open window blows the curtain, letting in the light from a full moon.
“I know. I know, love. You love me farther than the moon and back…”
Lying fully on my side, I relish the cold hardwood beneath my cheek. Again, the curtain falls back, lighting the room. I smile as my old crystal chest reflects a kaleidoscope of colors from under my bed. I haven’t looked in that old thing in years.
Placing it on my desk, I open the chest, and this time, it’s happy tears welling in my eyes.
Trinkets from my past. An old eggshell from the first time my husband tried to cook baby Henry breakfast. A playbill from the first time we took the kids to see Phantom of the Opera.
A hook from the first time Ledger caught a fish, along with so many other little things that wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else.
At the very bottom are two letters I don’t remember. The same color envelope as the ones I gave to the children. Pulling them out, I turn them over to Blanche written on one, and the other To whom it may concern, in Henry’s handwriting. I waste no time opening the one addressed to me.