Big, huge tears trickled down her cheeks as she buried herself against him. "I just wanted my dad," she whispered.
"Well, you've got him." He looked again at Hillary, who was standing there, patiently waiting for Brooke to leave her. Hillary was giving her daughter the freedom to make her own choice, even if that meant losing her forever.
"My stuff is in the car," Brooke said. "I'm ready to go tonight."
"Tonight?" Griffin saw then that Brooke was holding her pink stuffed poodle. The one she'd had since she was a baby. He touched it. "Do you still sleep with Ponzo?"
She hugged him to her chest. "Of course. Ponzo would get very upset if I didn't."
And in that moment, as his daughter peered at him over the head of a very ragged poodle, Griffin realized how young she was. How fragile. How delicate. She wasn't a commodity to be pulled back and forth. She was a tiny, vulnerable person with a heart that had shut him out because she'd been afraid of losing him.
He saw Hillary had her head down, and her hand was covering her eyes and the tears he knew were on her cheeks. Tears like the ones Ophelia and the others had shed tonight, tears of loss for the one they loved.
No. It wasn't supposed to be like this. No more loss.
He took his daughter's hands. "Brooke," he said. "Do you love mom? And the twins?"
She nodded. "Of course."
"And Dan? Tell me the truth. I won't be mad."
She looked down. "Yes," she whispered.
Yes. She loved them all. But she also loved him. How could he cause her the kind of pain he'd felt and seen tonight with Norm's death? How could he make her choose between those she loved? He couldn't.
Brooke pulled back. "Well, let's go, then." Her voice was impatient, but tears were glistening in her eyes, and her mouth was pulled into a tight line. He knew that expression. It was the one he'd seen so many times, moments before his little girl exploded into tears and sobs. She was being so brave, but he knew her pain.
"Dad? Let's go."
Griffin didn't move. "I can't."
She frowned. "You can't what?"
"I can't take you away from your home."
Hillary's head came up, disbelieving hope etched on her face.
Brooke's face crumpled. "You don't want me."
"No!" He grabbed her arms. "Never think that. I just can't take you away from them, either. It's not right for us to be apart, but it's not right to take you away either."
"But—"
"Brooke," he said. "I'll find a way for you to have both."
And there, in that moment, he finally saw his daughter's face come alive with the joy and love he'd always wished for her. "I don't have to leave them? Or you? I don't have to choose?"
"No." He brushed her hair back from her face. "Never."
"Really?"
"Really." He realized his hand was shaking. "I'll never ask that of you again, I promise."
She grabbed his wrist, her delicate fingers tight on his arm. "And you'll still come by? A lot? You promise?"
"I swear it."
Brooke shook her head, confusion and doubt wrinkling her forehead. "But your work—"
He laid a finger over her lips, silencing her. "I'll make it happen. I promise."
She searched his face, those dark brown eyes so intent as she sought to understand if she could trust him. He met her gaze. He didn't look away. He allowed her to see his love.
And then she smiled, a great big smile that broke like the dawn over her face. "Thank you!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him, and he held her tightly. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, too, pigeon." And by God, he did.
She pulled back and stuck her tongue out at him. "Dad! You called me pigeon!"
He laughed. "Go back home with Mom. I have to go to Boston tonight."
Excitement danced in her eyes. "Can I still be involved with In Your Face?"
He smiled. "Of course. We'll figure out a way." He winked at her. "Maybe we'll have you skip school on Fridays so you can come down and hang with me."
"Oh, yeah! That would be awesome! No school on Fridays!" She hugged him and then raced down the stairs. "Mom! Mom! Guess what! I don't have to go to school on Fridays anymore!"
"Is that so?" But Hillary's voice was light and happy as she hugged her.
Griffin smiled as he watched his daughter jumping up and down with excitement. It was the way it should be. Somehow, someway, he'd finally gotten the dad thing at least a little bit right, and it felt damn good.
Hillary bundled Brooke into the car, and shut the door. Then she looked up at Griffin. "Thank you," she said.
He nodded, then leaned back in the chair as he watched them go. But this time, as his daughter drove away, he didn't feel sad or empty. He knew he was going to make it right. It wasn't going to be easy, but if Clare could balance work and being a mom, then he could do it, too.
Clare.
The thought sobered him up pretty damn quickly. He glanced in the direction of her farmhouse. Was there a way to make that work, too? A way to—
No.
Just as he couldn't ask his daughter to leave her family, he couldn't ask Clare to love a man who lived in Boston, who belonged in Boston. It was time for him to let her go. It was time for him to leave.
But he didn't get up.
He just leaned back in his chair, looked up at the stars, and asked Norm for advice.
Chapter 24
Clare was still sitting in the driveway when Sara's mom dropped Katie off at the house a while after Griffin had left. Her phone had rung several times, but she hadn't bothered to move to answer it. She had nothing left to say to anyone, no reserves left to cope.
So, she stayed where she was and let the night swallow her up.
Katie paused when she saw Clare camped out on the gravel. "Why are you sitting in the driveway?"
"Because it's too much effort to go inside."
"What's wrong?" Katie's brow furrowed with dismay. "Aren't you cold?"
Clare was vaguely aware that she was shivering. She didn't know what it was from. Shock. Fear. Cold. Hunger. Dread. She felt so empty inside. "I've messed everything up."
Katie dropped her backpack beside her. It landed with a thunk on the gravel, so heavy with books that Clare knew Katie must have come straight from the library. "What happened?"
Clare sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. "I'm so sorry, Katie. I'm so sorry I let you down."
"What are you talking about?" Katie kneeled in front of her. "You're scaring me, Mom."
"I can't send you to MIT this summer."
She was expecting Katie to cheer, but her daughter just looked worried. "Why not? What happened?"
She didn't want to burden her daughter with this. She wanted Katie to go through life thinking everything was okay. But she just couldn't hide it anymore. "I can't afford it."
Katie frowned. "What do you mean? We have plenty of money."
"We don't." Clare rested her chin on her knees, staring blankly at the empty spot where Griffin's truck used to be. "I made a mistake on a will, and it was successfully contested in court. I got sued by the heirs."
"You never make mistakes," Katie protested. "They're wrong."
Clare shook her head, finally admitting the truth that had been weighing on her. "Actually, I did make a mistake. I did screw up. And I had to pay them quite a lot of money to settle the lawsuit." She managed a smile. "So, at least we don't have to go to court, but there will be no MIT this summer."
"Oh." Katie crossed her legs, propped her elbow on one knee and rested her chin on her palm. "If money was that tight, why would you send me to MIT in the first place?"
"Because I wanted a different future for you than what I had." And how well that plan was turning out.
Her daughter picked up a stick and drew a heart in the dirt. "Is your life really so bad, Mom?"
Clare laughed softly. "I have a job I hate, I don't have enough money to give my daughter the life she deserves. I
wasn't enough to keep your dad around, and I never gave you the family you wanted."
Katie stopped drawing. "What do you mean, you couldn't keep Dad around?"
Clare winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that." What was she doing, burdening her daughter with this? She patted Katie's knee. "Never mind, I'm just feeling a little melancholy because Griffin went back to Boston. Everything's fine, and you don't have to go to MIT this summer. See? Life is good."
Katie set the stick down. "Don't lie to me anymore, Mom. Tell me the truth. I'm almost sixteen. I can handle it! Tell me!" Katie looked at her intently. "What did you mean about Dad? Did he leave you? Did he leave us? Is that what you meant?"
Clare was too surprised by the specificity of the questions to remember to deny it. "How did you know?"
Katie shrugged. "It was the only reason I could think of for how you talked about him." She retrieved the stick and drew her dad's name in the dirt. "What happened? Will you tell me?"
Clare watched Ed's name scrawled in her driveway, a shadow that would never leave. "You really want to know?"
"Yes." Katie drew a heart around Ed's name.
"Okay." Clare averted her eyes from her daughter's design, and she finally released the truth she'd been holding onto for fifteen years. She told Katie about the forced wedding, the lonely nights, and Ed's words the night he'd left. She told her daughter everything about the man she'd idolized, and Katie listened to every word. Never interrupting. Never questioning. Never defending him. Just listening.
And then Clare finished. There was nothing left to say.
And to her surprise, Katie leaned over and hugged her. "Thank you for telling me that."
Clare hugged her back, confused. "Aren't you mad?"
Katie shook her head. "Do you have any idea what it's like not to know the truth? I had to know." She took a deep breath, raised her arms over her head and flopped back onto the driveway. "It feels so good to know. I feel so much better."
"Really?" Clare took a deep breath, and the air felt fresher and clearer than it had in years. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
Clare realized that she did too. She stretched out beside Katie and stared at the brilliant stars. "I'm so sorry I held back for so long. I thought it was better for you to believe he was a good man."
"I'm not a baby." Katie pointed her stick at the night sky, sketching words Clare couldn't decipher. "I can handle the truth. It feels better, actually. I hate it when I know you're hiding things from me."
"I'm so sorry. I won't do it again." She laughed softly. "There's nothing left to hide. That was my only skeleton." She felt so good, so liberated not to be weighed down anymore.
"What about your job? Do you really hate it?"
"Oh, now, all my secrets are out," Clare teased. "No, I don't hate it. I just don't like being sued."
"You're lying again, aren't you?" Katie propped herself up on her elbow to look down at her. "Why? Why won't you be honest with me?"
Clare sat up. "Because I'm trying to protect you! It's my job as your mom to make the world safe for you. What was I going to do? Tell you that my job is sucking the life out of me, and that I never should have incurred all this debt to go to law school, and that I want to chuck it all and go open a cupcake store, even if it means risking your college money and our house and everything else? How would that make you feel, huh? It would scare you and—"
"That would be awesome!"
Clare stared at her daughter. "What?"
"A cupcake store? How cool would that be? Could I work there, too?"
"I'm not going to do it. I was just saying—"
"Why not?" Katie jumped to her feet. "That would rock. That would be so much cooler to have a mom who was a cupcake goddess than a lawyer."
"I can't do it! I don't have the money—"
"So? We don't need this huge house. And I'll get a scholarship. Who cares?"
"I care!" Clare stood up. "I'm not going to let you suffer because I can't make money—"
Katie rolled her eyes. "So, you'll make me suffer by watching you be so unhappy at work? While I lie in bed at night, listening to you mutter to yourself while you type away at the computer all night just so you can find time to bake another batch of cupcakes? Seriously, Mom, that totally sucks."
"But—"
"I hate seeing you unhappy," Katie said. "Why do you think I joined the physics club? I hate it, but I did it so you would be happy. If your work made you happy, then maybe I wouldn't have to." She groaned. "God, that would be awesome. No more physics club!" She spun around like a ballerina. "Do it, Mom! Just do it! Ditch the lawyer thing. Come on!"
Emptiness filled Clare as she watched her daughter's exuberance. "It's too late, anyway. Someone already made an offer on the place I would have bought."
"So?" Katie set her hands on her hips. "Then find another place."
"I don't have the money—"
"So borrow it!"
"I can't! I have a mortgage on the house, student loans, a car loan and a huge debt I have to pay off. No one is going to lend me the amount of money I would need to buy the store and start the business." Clare spread her palms. "There are no choices, Katie. I can't do it."
"Hello? It's so obvious." Katie gave her an impatient look that only a teenager could do justice to. "Griffin has the money. Ask him."
At his name, the empty feeling dug even deeper. She would never forget how cold he was when he left. His rejection of her. "Griffin and I are over. You and I are on our own now."
"What?" Katie looked devastated. "You drove him away? Like Dad?"
"No." Clare fisted her hands in self-defense. "Don't even start with me on that—"
"Well, it's true! Griffin loves you!"
"No, he doesn't—"
"Of course he does. Anyone who saw the way he looked at you would agree. How could you let him go?"
"I didn't let him! He left!"
"Because you let him." Katie stomped her foot. "You just want to be miserable, don't you? That's the real reason you won't open a cupcake store or fight for Griffin. You think being some sort of martyr makes you more admirable. Well it doesn't!"
"I'm not a martyr! I'm trying to be responsible!"
"Well, you suck at it! How could you let him go? Griffin was the best thing that ever happened to us, and you're not fighting for it. For any of it! Did you even try to keep Dad? Did you even try?"
Clare opened her mouth to defend herself, to say she had fought for Ed, but the words didn't come out. They were a lie. A big fat lie. "I didn't know how," she finally said. All she'd done was sit there by the window, watching for his car every evening. Or lie beside him in bed, wishing he would touch her. She'd waited, she'd yearned, she'd dreamed, but she'd never done anything to try to win Ed's affections. Nothing other than wait until it was too late.
"I would have fought, and if you really wanted to be a good mom, like you claim, then you would have fought, too!" Katie spun around and stormed into the house, leaving Clare behind in the driveway.
Clare clasped her hands on top of her head as Katie stomped up the stairs to the second floor, her feet echoing in the night.
Her daughter was right. She hadn't fought. Not for Ed. Not for Griffin. Not for any of it. She'd lived her life in fear of doing it wrong, so she'd done nothing. Nothing that she really wanted to do.
But that realization was useless. What could she do now? Griffin was gone. The store had been sold. And she didn't have the money. It was over, just like Griffin's chances with Brooke. Her hands fisted at the thought of him. How dare he take her to the Bean Pot and tell her to dream, when it wasn't possible? He was such a bastard—
Oh, who was she kidding? He wasn't a bastard. He'd offered to buy the store for her and make her dreams possible. If she'd taken the deal—
"No." Even if Katie was right, and even if Griffin loved her, she deserved more than that from him. His love wasn't enough, not when he would always be looking past her in the direction of Boston. She d
idn't want a man who rolled into town every month or so to check on the business and spend the night in her bed. She'd accepted less than she deserved with Ed, and she wouldn't do it again.
Katie was right. Griffin was right. She did deserve to be happy. Really happy. Not pseudo-happy.
So, what would make her happy? What did she really want?
She knew the answer even before the words formed in her mind. She wanted to be loved. She wanted a man who was there every night for her. She wanted a man who wanted to be a part of her life every day, who treasured everything about her, including the fact that her life was in this town.
And that wasn't Griffin. Even if he, by some miracle, decided to stay, he would never be present. Boston would always be calling to him, just like it had been with Ed.
If he lived in Boston and popped in for an occasional visit, her soul would die from the loss of the dream, from being in love with a man who could give her only part of his heart and his time. If he stayed and gave up his world, it would be his turn for his light to fade, and then hers would as well. There was no way for it to work. Her future, her love, her vision, her need for completeness...
It couldn't be filled by Griffin.
Her heart ached as she made that realization, and the last shred of hope shattered. Emptiness filled her and she allowed herself to grieve. To release her dream for him. To release her willingness to accept what little she could get from him, even if it wasn't enough.
She finally began to allow herself to believe that she really did deserve to be truly happy, to have it all. Griffin might have awakened her heart, but now it was time to let him go. It was time to keep her heart open, and to bring in a man who would be in her life the way she wanted.
And so, in that driveway, under the stars and the moon, she let go of Griffin, she released the old Clare, the one who accepted a life of emotional emptiness, who did her best to make everyone else happy instead of herself. She took ownership of the passion and the fire that Griffin had stirred up those moments in his arms and that night in the Bean Pot, and she made a promise to herself to channel that into the life she wanted.
Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1) Page 29