13. Chapter 13
I smiled softly at Eleanor and followed her to the restroom so I could freshen up. Closing the door behind me, I approached the sink. My face was an absolute mess. Thank God I decided against wearing makeup this morning. My eyes were red rimmed and splotches had appeared across my cheeks.
The flood of memories hit. Eleanor, the piano, even Andrew and his gentleness were overwhelming.
It had been so long since someone had been kind to me.
I splashed some water on my face and regained my composure.
With the story he’d told, things made complete sense.
Cameron had always been a cruel man, it seemed.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and whispered, “What are you going to do now?”
Something about seeing the piano left me feeling a small sense of hope. Trying to ignore the reality of my life had gotten me nowhere, and Cameron wouldn’t stop. For the first time since this nightmare began, I contemplated taking Andrew up on his offer of help. I’d be a fool not to.
With one final glance in the mirror, I squared my shoulders and left to join them for dinner. When I walked out, Andrew was waiting. A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as I stepped out.
With a quiet confidence, he extended his arm, offering silent reassurance before guiding me down the long corridor. Eleanor’s house was stunning, unlike anything I’d seen before.
“Your family home is quite remarkable,” I said to break the silence. I couldn’t keep the awe out of my voice.
“It’s belonged to our family now for generations. We have the original blueprints from the early nineteenth century. We even have the additions that were done during the Victorian era.”
A grin tugged at his lips, the dimple in his cheek deepening with ease. Something about his mouth held my attention. Demanded it, almost.
“You shouldn’t stare at a man’s lips, you know,” he teased.
A rush of warmth crept up my neck, settling in my cheeks as his words sank in. “I wa-wasn—”
“I thought we established you’re a horrible liar. You were, and I’ll warn you if you do it again—I won’t be responsible for what happens. Now where was I?” He paused, and I tried to focus on the hallway and the beauty of the house. “There are over three hundred twenty-one acres—”
“Seriously? I didn’t realize. I was lost in my head when we pulled up.”
“I see. Well, maybe we can take a walk later, and I’ll show you some of the outside. Although it looks more impressive during the day. We’ve got a former Coach House. It’s now a gym. Nana insisted we upgrade. There are stables if you’re into riding. Are you into riding, angel?”
The way he asked was innocent, but my mind instantly brought forth many inappropriate images of riding him.
Every time he called me ‘angel’, it did something to my insides.
Not only did butterflies erupt, but years of iciness that I’d used as protection around my heart thawed. He was right. I was a horrible liar.
Don’t look at his lips again.
“I’ve never ridden before,” I murmured.
“Tennis?” he asked.
I shook my head and glanced at the plasterwork covering the ceiling. He, of course, noticed.
“Even though she’s bound and determined to renovate, she is equally adamant about keeping as much of the original beauty as possible, like the decorative ceiling roses and ornate fireplaces,” he offered.
“As well she should. The details are stunning.”
He stopped me, gathered both of my hands in his and breathed, “It is stunning. I could lose myself in it, truth be told.” The deep, intense hunger in his eyes let me know he wasn’t talking about the house.
Needing to fill the space, I asked, “Why is she bound and determined to renovate?”
“Um, yes, that’s quite a bone of contention between us. Nan is old-fashioned, has always wanted me to have a large family—sons, daughters, give her lots of great grandchildren.”
He suddenly grew tense. His cheek twitched, and he took a deep breath. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what he was going to say next, but nothing could have prepared me. Not really.
“This is probably as good a time as any. I need to apologize for last night. My behavior from the moment I touched your leg was wrong.”
“Please, Andrew, don’t,” I stammered, trying to pull my hands from his.
“No, let me finish, please.”
A lump lodged itself in my throat, thick and unmovable. Our eyes locked.
“The reason it was wrong was that I didn’t ask your permission.
I treated you like an object, and one for my pleasure.
You’re in a fragile place. I don’t care what words you say,” he said, putting his fingers to my lips as I went to speak.
“I know better, and in the end, I took it out on you with my outburst.”
“It’s okay, really,” I breathed.
“No, Tori, it’s not.”
The nickname slipped from his lips, warm and soft. It lingered in the air. My breath hitched. No man had ever used it, and I longed to hear it again from him. It curled around something fragile inside me and held it still.
“The issues I have about becoming a father run deep,” he said, his voice quieter now. “And they’re not your responsibility to bear. That’s my baggage and mine alone.”
A subtle shift passed over his features. I blinked as I processed each one. Guilt, hesitation, and something heavier. I may not have known him long, but this was different. The intensity of it. He was carrying something that made the air feel thick.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around myself. Where was he going with this? He exhaled and went on.
“So not only were my initial actions wrong on every level,” he continued, “but my words…they were even more insensitive.”
A part of me wanted to stop him. To tell him it was fine. That I understood. But it wasn’t fine. And I didn’t fully understand. At least not yet. Still, the storm had already broken, and his words kept coming.
Instead of stopping him, I lowered my gaze and whispered another apology I didn’t owe. He didn’t let it land. Two fingers pressed gently under my chin, lifting my face until I met his eyes again.
“It’s not your fault,” he said softly, earnestly. “I lost my mind and broke my own rules when it comes to sleeping with women.”
A pause. Nothing could have prepared me for his next words.
“My mother was schizophrenic,” he said. “And I would never want to pass something like that on to my child.”
The words landed, wrapped around my heart, and squeezed. Hard. A tremor rippled through me, sharp and immediate. All the air left my lungs as realization thundered through me.
What had I done?
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” I said, struggling to keep the edge of panic from bleeding into my voice.
“Stop apologizing.” His tone was gentle but firm. “This isn’t something you caused, and it’s not your burden,” he murmured, pulling me into his arms.
This was wrong. He was the one comforting me—when it should’ve been the other way around. My thoughts were spinning too fast to land. But if what he said meant what I thought it did, I couldn’t let it pass.
I looked up, hesitant. “Is it a given then? That your child—if you had one—would develop the same condition?”
His breath left him slowly, with the smallest pause before he answered.
“Not necessarily,” he said.
Relief washed over me, leaving guilt in its wake.
What was wrong with me?
It wouldn’t have mattered. I loved Declan with everything in me.
If he ever developed the same condition, I’d help him through it all.
Nothing would ever change that. The despair on that beach all those years ago now made perfect sense.
With his mother dying and him not forgiving her before then, it was just heartbreaking.
But it was his next words that would shatter me and draw me in closer than I could have predicted.
“My childhood was hell in so many ways. Remember when I told you I almost drowned?” His voice cracked a little.
I nodded, unable to form words.
“Well my mother tried to kill me. It wasn’t the first time, although it was the last. I meant what I said. We’re survivors.”
“So you know how it feels then to have someone…someone…” I asked, my voice trailing off.
That rush of connection had my emotions going all over the place. He would understand the abject fear of what it was like to have someone in complete control over your very breath.
I whimpered as visions swirled before me of the Mask’s face warping into Cameron’s and then back again, over and over. I launched myself at Andrew, needing to feel strong arms around me, and sobbed into his chest.
“Aw, angel. I didn’t mean to upset you further.”
“It’s okay,” I murmured.
“No, it’s not. I want to afford you the luxury of not elaborating, but I can’t in good conscience not ask. Your own experience—it wasn’t accidental, I take it? Someone tried to drown you too? Cameron?” he asked.
My ribs felt too tight, as if my body was trying to contain emotions too big to hold. Gut-wrenching sobs shook my entire frame, and his arms tightened around me.
“Cameron—”
“Please don’t do that. Don’t stick up for him,” he seethed. “I need the truth. Please let me help you,” he added desperately.
I took a deep breath, and the words poured from the deepest part of me. He had shared about his mother. It seemed fitting that I share too.
“He wasn’t the first, but I don’t like to talk about it. Cameron only knows because he read about it…it…in my jour—” Feeling the panic rise as regret and shame hit, I muttered, “Oh God, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. Please forget everything I said.”
“Victoria,” he warned, low and steady. Almost pleadingly.
Something about the way he said my name made my throat tighten.
Get it together.
“Honestly, how rude of me.” I forced a brittle laugh and wiped beneath my eyes. “We were talking about your mother, and somehow I made it about me. I’m sorry. That must have been… awful. I can’t even begin to imagine.”