by MK Meredith
“In her mind, she was making sure you were taking full advantage of the time you had. Son, she mothered you up to her very last breath.”
“That’s not true.” Roque pushed up and leaned his elbows against his knees. “She never stopped. Every decision I make, I think of what she’d say. No, she’s never stopped mothering me.”
His dad gave a rusty laugh. “If anyone could find a way to control things from the other side, it would be your mother.”
He glanced at his dad and then looked away. “I feel her around me all the time.”
His dad nodded. “Me, too.”
Roque stood and returned his glass to the sideboard. “You’d really go through it all over again?”
“No question. The pain doesn’t matter. It never really goes away anyway, just becomes more manageable. The question is, why are you so bent on being in pain when you don’t have to be? The love of your life is still here.” His dad paused and rubbed a hand over his chin. “It’s hard to watch you throw it away.”
Roque couldn’t process worth a shit. Everything his dad admitted spun in his head. He nodded at his father and turned to leave.
“Roque?”
Hearing his name spoken in such a soft tone had him turning quicker than if his father had shouted.
Mac’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry if you needed me, and I wasn’t there.”
“Fuck.” Roque walked back to his dad who’d stood from the couch. He wrapped his arms around the strong man and squeezed with a gruff cough. “You were always there for me, Dad. Always.”
Mac nodded. “And now?”
Roque cleared his throat, and the two men released their holds on each other. He knew what his dad asked, but he didn’t know how to answer.
“All of Me” floated out low from his dad’s stereo. Both men froze and looked from each other to the old jukebox in the corner of the library.
His dad chuckled. “Always in our business, that one.”
Roque cleared his throat. He swallowed, and then a grin spread his lips wide. His mom had always been there for him, for them. He’d been so angry she’d made the choice she had—angry she’d taken the choice from him. For so long he agonized over her thinking his work was more important to him than she was, but now he could see he’d been wrong.
It had been because she knew it was so important, period. She knew how much he loved his work, and she knew he’d have walked away from it all in a heartbeat if he’d found out she was sick.
It hadn’t been because he was a workaholic or because he put his work before those he loved in his life.
He hadn’t failed her.
She’d simply loved him.
A few hours later, Roque opened his eyes to a dark room and a heavy throw flung over him. He’d needed to sleep off the rest of the Scotch he’d drunk, while he and his dad had been talking, before driving home. Now the house was quiet and still. He strained to hear anything from the direction of his dad’s room, but nothing stirred save for his heartbeat in his own ears.
With a small groan, he stood from the leather sofa, taking a moment to find his balance. He felt around the end table for his keys and knocked into the tumbler he’d used earlier. The sound seemed to echo through the room, and he froze, holding his breath. When it was quiet once again, he finally found his keys and made his way through the house.
He stepped outside and tilted his head back to take in the night sky. Pulling in as much air as his lungs could hold, he then let it out in a rush. The air was salty and cool. It reminded him of the night he’d gone out on the beach with Addi and he’d first told her about his mother. He’d never shared that with anyone before.
Instead of getting in his car, he turned and took the pathway around his dad’s house to the beach. Thoughts of his mom, Addi, his dad, and the film swirled through his mind as he stepped off the walk and onto the sand. His mom would be proud. He and Gage still had a bit to go, but they’d finish, and in a way no one would ever be able to forget.
He went over the conversation he’d had with his dad. Holding on to the pain of missing out on time to say good-bye to his mother seemed like a good excuse to avoid dealing with it. He’d been crushed to lose her, then he’d blamed himself and choked on his anger until nothing was left but fear.
He feared he couldn’t be enough in a relationship, that he wouldn’t be able to prioritize and make those in his life feel like they were important. The ending of every relationship he entered had played out in his mind before the first date. He set himself up to fail right from the beginning, letting his past drive his future. Feeling entitled to control someone else’s choices.
And the way he’d treated Addi—God. It had all been because he was letting fear make his choices.
He’d lost control, but in losing it, he was able to find his way because he was no longer afraid.
And if he wasn’t afraid of what would happen, if he could have a say in what his future was, then he could go after Addi. Couldn’t he?
Her actions, too, were out of fear and a possibly valid sense of entitlement. He could finally see that. Fear of losing her home, of failing in her family’s eyes and in her own eyes. She’d been so afraid she dreamed up her ridiculous scheme and hid in the attic of her own house—even though she was afraid of the dark. His lip quirked as he imagined her swearing while she tripped through the house.
Fear could have such a deep, dark hold on people, and it had been so hard to see on his own. But he was getting rid of that weight.
The idea made him feel lighter than he’d felt in weeks.
But he’d treated her, their time together, as if his work was most important. He hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps, making her feel like a priority but, instead, like an option that he could put off—shove aside. All to make sure his mistaken view of his mother’s actions wouldn’t have been for nothing.
Addi had never made him feel worthless. He’d done that to himself.
If he could make those mistakes while loving her, it was only fair to allow her mistakes while loving him. And people were full of them, would keep making them, no matter how hard they tried not to. It wasn’t about the what but the why. The intent behind the action. If he’d been brave enough to really look at Addi’s intentions, he’d have seen a very frightened woman trying to make her way imperfectly through an equally imperfect world.
He’d been just as guilty, so how could he blame her? So much lost because of fear.
Well, not anymore. There was no longer any reason. He’d been wrong. What he wanted now was right in front of him for the taking.
If he could only get her to see him the same way he saw her and forgive him for how short he’d fallen.
Roque walked beside Martin Jr. as they made their way down the sidewalk of the Malibu Pier to their lunch meeting. He should be elated, but the heaviness in his chest kept him stuck on solid ground, and he scowled.
“Dude, you’re the only jackass on the planet who could be unhappy holding an accolade like that.” Martin Jr. slapped at the article in Roque’s hand. “That’s a fucking honor—every producer dreams of getting that kind of review.”
Roque ducked the hand flying at his arm and tucked the magazine in his bag, pulling the strap higher to anchor it. He shot Martin Jr. a look. “Quit hitting me, man.”
His friend slapped his other arm and then laughed as he walked ahead through the door of the restaurant where they were to meet a few other industry professionals.
It wasn’t common for an independent film to get such buzz so early on, but damn if it hadn’t just happened. The fact he was Macklan Gallagher’s son was part of the hum but more because he didn’t use the association than because he did. His film, his project, was all him and his team.
But the good feeling of his award didn’t last long with Addi’s face a memory instead of seeing her beside him in person. He’d figured out what a mess he’d made of things, but figuring out how to fix things had taken time. While his accountant hel
ped research that particular problem, the post-production of the movie had to be finished. He and Gage worked nonstop until they both agreed they’d hit gold.
And they had.
He blew out a breath. “Looks like we’re the first ones here.” With a nod, he slid into the chair pulled out by the waiter.
Martin Jr. slid in across from him. “Good, I’ve been waiting to hear your plan.”
Roque stilled. “My plan?”
“Yeah, the one where you figure out how to get Addi back. I’m not into the whole commitment thing, but the two of you are pretty damn perfect for each other. I figured now that things were moving right along with the film, you’d get back to the important things.”
Roque studied his friend. “The important things.”
Martin signaled for the waiter. “Water, please.” Turning his attention back to Roque he said, “So out with it.”
Leaning back in his seat, Roque pulled his arms against the resisting fabric of his suit. “I said some fucked up shit. She’s not going to want to listen to me.”
Martin leaned forward. “That’s it? We say dumb shit all the time.”
“You’ve got a point. I’ve had to figure out something she can’t refuse, something that makes it look like she’s helping me instead of me helping her.”
His buddy laughed. “Good luck with that; nothing scarier than a helpful woman.”
“I dare you to say that to your mother.”
Martin slowly slid his middle finger up the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t know. What if it’s too late?”
Martin sighed and glared at Roque with a look of annoyance. “Seriously, dude. Did you just say that?”
Roque ran a hand over his trimmed scruff. “Fuck, man, I can’t wait to see you all wrapped around yourself over some chick. I’ll remember how helpful you were.”
“That’s where you and I differ. I ain’t doing it. Nothing a night out on the town can’t fix, and I don’t have to deal with anyone getting in the way come morning.”
Addi never got in the way. On the contrary, morning was the best time to see her, all warm skin and sweet honey. He could practically hear her sleep-thickened murmur of appreciation as he pulled her close.
Martin snapped his fingers in front of Roque’s face. “Dude.”
Roque blinked and shifted in his seat. God damn it.
He needed Addi. He wanted Addi. What the hell would he do if he couldn’t get her back?
He needed to figure out what he was going to do to fix the shitstorm he’d created. In the back of his mind he could hear his mother say, “You can do anything you set your mind to, my beautiful boy.”
And if he learned anything from his mother, he learned he damn well could.
He needed to prove to Addi that he could forgive her fear and that he was no longer reacting, no longer making choices out of fear himself.
Roque blew out a breath, a weight falling from him, the first rays of pride floating free as he slapped the magazine back on the table. He flexed his muscles in his suit, the movement stiff but good. He knew what he was going to do, and his movie was heading toward box office success out of the gate.
His phone vibrated, alerting him to an interesting text from Martin. His future had never been more clear.
He rubbed his hands together as two gentlemen joined them at their table.
Time to negotiate.
Hollywood was child’s play compared to what he would face tomorrow.
Chapter 26
Addi paced her front room for the tenth time, cursing as she smoothed the fabric of her skirt for the fifteenth time. Who the hell needed a walk-through on Christmas Eve? They couldn’t wait until the day after the biggest holiday of the year, for Pete’s sake? The buyers had already put their offer through. It was a no-brainer since they hadn’t even tried to negotiate the asking price. So here she was. Her realtor had already worked miracles, and there was no way she’d ask him to work on the holiday.
She moved a stone pitcher, stood back to look at it, and then returned it to its place. Nerves skittered up her neck, and she stretched it in one direction, then the other, trying to chase them away. She had no choice but to let the morons come by. The sooner she sold her home, the sooner she could start over. And man was she ready to get on with her life, get on from her pain. As if that were remotely possible.
Her heart was broken in half. She pressed the heels of her hands against her lids to keep from crying, careful not to mess up her makeup—she wanted to sell her home, not send the people running. If only she could go back.
She would have never known the kind of love she’d found with Roque was possible. It wasn’t the kind in fairy tales but better, the kind that came from caring, from choosing one person every day, the kind that grew richer through mistakes and deeper through forgiveness—at least that’s what she’d thought. Now she wondered if it wouldn’t have been better not to know such a thing existed, wondered if it wouldn’t have hurt a lot less.
Addi pulled in a breath. Her heart hurt, and her future looked bleak except for her writing. What good was being a romance author if she couldn’t escape into her own fantasies? She anticipated a lot of writing in the next few months, so she’d better figure it out.
Walking around the room one last time, she rubbed at nonexistent dust, fluffed the already puffy pillows and smoothed the sheers that hung straight and sure. Chase had offered to come over, but Addi refused. Christmas was one of the very few holidays the Huntingtons actually found the time to be together, and she wasn’t about to keep them apart.
Her own family was hanging out at Sam and Gage’s, waiting for her. She imagined the house decked out in lights, wreaths hung and wafting the scent of holiday pine, ornaments and lights like glittering jewels glowing from every nook and cranny. And her favorite, the Christmas tree. Sam and Gage had a huge one already overflowing with presents underneath. She’d bet, at that very moment, they were all singing carols around the fireplace. Okay, that might be a stretch, but whoever the jerkface was who so adamantly wanted to see the house right away didn’t know that. And it was before ten in the morning. Really? She’d barely downed her second cup of coffee.
Aunt Addi’s doorbell shrieked, yanking Addi out of her grumblings with a jump and a hand slapped to her chest. She smiled. Now the damn thing was a challenge—could she survive longer than it did?
With a shake of her head, she walked over to the door, glancing in the mirror for a quick check. She smoothed her brows and reminded herself to be nice.
Pasting on a smile, Addi pulled open the front door. She gasped and stepped back at the sight of her guest. “You.”
Roque Gallagher’s eyes flickered wide for a beat, his only reaction to her shock. He yanked a sheet of paper from his portfolio and looked from it to the address numbers nailed above her door.
Her heart slammed in her chest, and a warm rush swept through her body, but her stomach twisted in apprehension. She didn’t want to hurt today. “Why are you here?”
His lips stretched into a tentative grin. “No, you’re supposed to threaten me with calling the police.”
She wanted to smile at his attempt to recreate the first time he’d come to her house, but his harsh words from their last meeting kept her frozen in place. She ignored the curious flutter in her heart.
“Addison.” He dropped his bag to the porch and stepped forward, intent and much more in his gaze. He stepped toward her.
Addi put out her hand. “No, no. I, ah, I have the buyer coming to look at the house. You need to leave. Please.” She could smell his cologne, and the heady scent clouded her head with lustful images and warm memories, breaking her heart further. She couldn’t let him touch her or she’d break for sure, and now was the time she needed to stand on her own two feet. “I’m sorry, but you really have to go. Happy holidays to your family.”
“Happy holidays?”
“Roque, I told you, I have a—”
He held her gaze, sh
ifting from one foot to the other. He looked over her head to the front room and nodded. “Yes, this is exactly what I expected.”
She looked behind her into the front room, then back to his confirming nod. Confusion left her mute, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His beautiful face, the strong line of his silhouette, the tapping of his thick fingers against his thigh. Something was different, an energy she hadn’t sensed before.
He bent and grabbed his bag, making her jump, and then stepped past her into her house. Suddenly the space seemed small, and all the air had gone missing.
She pulled in a calming breath, trying to wrap her head around what he was doing.
Setting his bag on one of the living room chairs, he turned to her. “Give me the tour one more time, please.”
She stepped forward and then froze. “A tour?”
Roque closed the distance between the two of them, and Addi shot her hand out to stop him. His chest pressed in to her fingers.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her heart struggled to beat, and her lungs forgot how to pull in air. “Roque, I…”
“I hurt you, cheap shots tossed at you out of anger and pain. I understand why you did what you did. I understand the fear because I’ve been letting it rule my decisions, too. I forgive you and hope that you can find a way to forgive me, too.” His gaze didn’t move from her face, and her hand rushed to her chest.
“I couldn’t comprehend the idea you would sell a house that was such a home to just anybody. A house that wasn’t just your home but our home. At least until we have a horde of children. Then we’ll need something bigger, or better yet, we’ll add a second level.” He held her gaze, his Adam’s apple dipping with a hard swallow. “I made a choice. Not out of fear but out of love.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and shock left her fingers numb and cold. She took a step back. She didn’t understand, tried to force her brain to catch up with reality. Our home? Hordes of children? She was terrified of reading him wrong, of hoping, of misunderstanding his words because her heart wanted them to be true more than she’d ever wanted anything in her whole life.