Star Promise (39 page)

“Did you keep her?”

He dipped his head, chasing my lips. “Of course I did,” he murmured against my mouth. “She loved me when I least deserved it.”

We’d always belonged to each other, even when we couldn’t find a way to be together. There were no obstacles now. We were open, complete and ready for whatever the world threw at us, and after what we’d endured that day I knew there was nothing we couldn’t handle. Together we were invincible.

I put my hands to his cheeks, inching his head back. Water streamed down, making him blink.

“I’ve loved you my whole life,” I declared.

His next words were said with his lips. My body was burning, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. The blood coursing through my body was a fiery combination of true love and absolute desire.

I broke free to whisper in his ear. “We have to get out.”

“Why, Charlotte?” In a move that made my legs shaky, he touched his lips to the side of my neck. “The water’s hot. You’re hot. What more do we need?”

I put both hands on his chest to keep him at bay and looked at my knee. “I wasn’t supposed to get the dressing wet.”

“Well, rebel, we can’t have you breaking the rules.”

Changing my mind would’ve been simple, but Adam didn’t try. Before I knew it, I was bundled up in a towel and being carried across the hall.

A morning in bed together was my plan but Adam had other ideas. I sat up, tucking the sheet under my arms. “You’re not seriously going to the office?” I grumbled. “Please come back to bed.”

He continued raking through the closet looking for something to wear. “I won’t be gone long,” he promised. “I’m going to try and catch Dad at home before he leaves for work.”

As much as I wished he’d take some time to sleep, I understood his mindset. Wanting to get the task of resigning over and done with quickly made sense.

“Don’t let him change your mind,” I coached.

Adam pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. “I won’t.”

“And don’t take anything he says to heart,” I added. “He’s thoughtless when he’s angry.”

He walked back to the bed, leaned down and kissed me. “Don’t worry about a thing. I can handle him.”

I wished I’d warned Jean-Luc the night before. Perhaps with a little time to think things through, he’d be less likely to explode. As things stood, I had no choice but to stand back, let Adam walk out the door and wait for the fallout.

I was relieved not to have to explain my early morning visit to my mother. Mrs Brown met me at the door. Her smile was wide, but nothing compared to the grin she gave me when I told her we didn’t need her babysitting prowess any more. She reached up and pinched my cheeks. “Wonderful, wonderful boy,” she exclaimed. “I’m delighted.”

I couldn’t blame her. She’d been hoping for redundancy for a while. I thanked her again, making sure she understood how appreciative we were of all she’d done for us.

It earned me a harder pinch. “My pleasure, young man. Who is my replacement?”

I grinned at her. “I am.”

Mrs Brown dropped her hold on me and frowned. “Does your father know?”

“No; that’s why I’m here.”

“He’s in his office,” she said quietly. “I wish you luck.”

“Thanks,” I replied, winking. “I might need it.”

Mrs Brown had been working for my family since Ryan was little. Better than anyone, she knew the dynamics. Dad was going to be pissed at the news and there was no point pretending otherwise. My heart thumped as I climbed the stairs, which was a pathetic reaction that annoyed me. No matter how many times I reminded myself that I was grown, confronting my father always reduced me to feeling like a ten-year-old kid in trouble – especially if it went down in his home office.

The big arched windows facing Fifth Avenue boasted a gorgeous view of the park, but it was lost on Dad. His desk was positioned so his back was to the window. He couldn’t see the park, but he had a stellar view of anyone walking into the room.

When I rounded the doorway he closed his laptop, giving me his full attention. “Adam. How is my granddaughter this morning?”

We were not off to a good start.

“Bridget, you mean?”

He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Of course I mean Bridget. How many granddaughters do I have?”

I sat down. “Just one, unless the rumours about Ryan are true.”

He laughed, and for a moment the tension slipped.

“Bridget’s fine,” I confirmed. “We brought her home this morning.”

“I think you should take a few days off to spend with her.”

For a split second, the coward in me contemplated agreeing to it, but I knew all it would achieve was a few more days of stewing.

“Dad, I have something more permanent in mind,” I hinted.

His shoulders fell, but he was far from relaxed. I didn’t need to elaborate. He knew what was coming.

“If you walk away now, everything you’ve worked for has been for nothing,” he said bitterly.

“It will always count for something,” I insisted. “It’s just not what I want to do.”

He shook his head, looking bewildered. “I don’t understand you. Life is not a free ride, no matter the circumstances.”

“I’m not planning to do nothing,” I snapped. “I’m going to oversee the renovation work at the club we’ve just bought.”

Dad groaned as if it was the most ridiculous suggestion on earth. “A waste of a good mind,” he barked in French.

I wished I’d been strong enough to speak up for myself when I was younger. If I had, studying for a law degree might never have come into play. I’d spent years believing that it was my calling, but looking back I realised that it was my father’s dream, and had been all along.

“I’m not a lawyer,” I said strongly.

“If you abandon your career, you’ll be nothing.” The harsh expression on his face told me that he truly believed it. “A construction worker at best.”

My dad had no clue of the work I liked to do, and perhaps that wasn’t his fault. Enlightening him was probably pointless, but I wanted to try.

“Construction doesn’t interest me,” I told him. “I like breathing new life into old things – buildings, boats, furniture.”

The home I grew up in was a veritable storage locker of antique furniture. The desk he was sitting at was well over a hundred years old. That alone meant that he should’ve had an appreciation for the craft I was so passionate about, but I was struggling to make him understand.

“It’s a hobby,” he replied. “And it should remain that way.”

“My daughter isn’t a hobby,” I retorted. “I want to free up more time to spend with her too. It’s not right that Ryan sees her more than I do.”

“Her mother should be spending time with her.” He raised his voice for the first time. “Have Charli quit her job and tend to your daughter. That’s how it should be done.”

“Yes, Dad,” I replied dryly, “if we were living in 1950.”

“Meeting that girl was your undoing, Adam,” he claimed, drumming his forefinger on his desk. “Your whole life went to hell after that.”

Letting a comment like that go was never going to happen. I leaned forward, looking him dead in the eye. “I don’t even know who I was before Charli, but I do know I wasn’t particularly good. Would you rather I be a one-track asshole attorney or a good father and husband?” I asked. “Because past history shows that I can’t be both.”

“Find balance,” he demanded.

The leather chair squeaked as I straightened up. “A righteous pose,” I returned sarcastically. “You’re asking me to do something you never could.”

I hadn’t intended to attack him, but I could tell that I had. Apologising wouldn’t help. He wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

“Get something to me in writing,” he ordered in his best business-like voice. “I want a formal letter of resignation.”

I stood to leave. “I’ll do that,” I assured him.

Dad opened his laptop and stared at the screen, despite that fact that it hadn’t fired up yet. “Deliver your keys to the front desk,” he instructed. “I’ll have Tennille box up your belongings and clean out your desk.”

I’d left the realm of errant son. I’d now become nothing more than an ex-employee, and it hurt far more than I expected it would.

“You’re not going to let me back in?”

He stared straight at me. “You’ve made your decision. At least have the fortitude to stick by it.”

“And what about you, Dad?” I asked bitterly. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’m going to stick by mine too.”

Utterly destroyed but trying not to let it show, I shoved the chair back into position. “I guess that’s it then.” I pointed to the new picture hanging on the side wall. “Nice photo, by the way. I didn’t think artistic nautical shots were to your taste. Perhaps a scene depicting an epic battle or a public hanging would’ve been more fitting for this room.”

He turned to the photo on the wall. “Your wife introduced me to it,” he replied. “Perhaps that’s why you like it.”

“I’m sure it is,” I muttered. “What’s your excuse?”

Dad slid his chair back and wandered over to the picture. “It reminds me of when I used to take my boys sailing on the river.” He glanced at me. “Do you remember?”

“Every Saturday,” I confirmed.

“Ryan never showed a lot of interest,” he continued. “But you were a different story.”

My brother’s fascination only held as long as Dad let him steer. The rest of the time was spent complaining about having to wear a lifejacket or worrying that Jaws was going to rise up and eat him. But I loved it. There was nothing not to love about a little wooden boat being powered through the water by nothing more than the wind.

“It’s a shame you lost interest,” he added.

His recollection of that time was wildly different from mine. I could feel the ire bubbling in my gut. “We didn’t lose interest,” I snapped. “When I turned ten you hired a tutor. Saturday mornings on the Hudson gave way to extra homework sessions.”

He didn’t turn around. “I only ever wanted the best for you both,” he replied. “I still do.”

My mother’s timing that morning was impeccable. She waltzed into the room rattling off a round of breakfast options to my father, then caught sight of me. “Adam, darling,” she said, surprised. “You’re here early. How is Bridget?”

“She’s fine,” I replied, leaning to kiss her. “We brought her home this morning.”

“Wonderful,” she beamed. “So what are you doing here then?”

I didn’t answer. I was more interested in hearing my father’s reply. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick to volunteer an explanation either.

“Well?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

“Everything is fine, Fi,” Dad insisted.

Nothing was fine. I groaned, annoyed that he couldn’t be truthful. My mother considered that a hostile act. She grabbed a fistful of my T-shirt. “You listen to me,” she demanded. “We have a wedding in two weeks. There will be no discord between now and then. Do you understand?”

Ignoring the fact that she was doing her best to shake me like a ragdoll, I kept my focus firmly on my father. “I understand perfectly.”

She let me go and set her sights on her husband. “And you!” She whacked his arm. “Why must you antagonise?”

Dad dared to smile at her. “I am doing no such thing.”

She whacked him again.

Dad stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. “You truly are beautiful, Fiona Rose,” he murmured.

There had never been a better cue to leave. Some things can never be unseen. I quickly said goodbye and made a dash for the door.

Whatever went on after I left obviously didn’t last long. I’d only been home an hour when Mom showed up armed with enough supplies to bake us into the next millennium.

“I thought Bridget might like to help bake some cookies.” She held a bag of groceries out to me. “It might cheer her up.”

I put my finger to my lips. “They’re sleeping, Mom.”

I took the bag and motioned toward my sleeping girls in the living room. After Bridget woke, Charli lay with her on the couch for some mermaid therapy. Both of them were asleep in minutes, and until my mother showed up I’d been hopeful of following suit.

“Say no more,” she whispered, pushing past me. “I’ll make a start on them by myself.”

Mom wasn’t the only visitor that morning. When Ryan turned up and suggested we go out for coffee, I jumped at the chance. The smell of burning cookies was starting to filter through the apartment and Mom was driving me crazy.

One of the things I liked best about living in New York was the convenience of having everything on our doorstep. We walked no further than the café at the end of the block. “This is handy,” noted Ryan.

“It is,” I agreed. “As soon as Charli lets me, I’m going to train Bridget to run down here and buy me coffee.”

He laughed, but barely sounded like himself. We hadn’t been seated long before he confessed why.

The fall from the top of the climbing frame hadn’t been the biggest crash to happen the day before. The first wreck happened when he took it upon himself to inform my daughter that there was no such thing as magic.

I was furious with him, but needed to handle it properly. Getting angry wasn’t going to help anyone. “Why would you do that?” I asked. “She’s four years old, Ryan.”

“And I want her to live to see five,” he replied. “You can’t have her jumping –”

“It’s not even about the jumping.” Cutting him off was the best I could do. What I really wanted to do was lean across the table and punch him, but I was too exhausted to make a fist. “Why didn’t you go the whole hog and enlighten her about Santa and the Easter Bunny while you were at it?”

“I know I shouldn’t have said anything. It was a mistake.”

As remorseful as he was, Ryan couldn’t grasp the damage he’d done. This was going to destroy Charlotte, and in turn, Charlotte was probably going to destroy him. It seemed fair to warn him.

A worried frown set in. “Do you think I should tell Charli?” he asked. “I will if you want me to.”

It was a gallant offer, all things considered. “No. She has enough to deal with at the moment. Just wait and see what happens.”

“Is there something going on that I should know about?”