by Laura Pavlov
“Yes. Let’s talk about that. The fact that he hid his daughter for twenty-three years. He left her with a fucking monster, Chanel,” I said as my fists came down on the table.
Her gaze locked with mine. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she squared her shoulders. “It’s not excusable, Ford. What he did to her is—”
“It’s what? He left her with a drug addict,” I shouted, pushing to my feet and pacing around the kitchen. “And the one time she actually went to him five years ago, he offered her money to go away.”
“He told us about meeting her. He doesn’t have a defense for what he did. But there is more to the story than you know. It doesn’t make what he did okay, not by any stretch.”
“Tell us,” my mother said.
“Dad said that around twenty-four years ago he was at a bar, being stupid, obviously. Baron and I were young, and he and Mom were fighting a lot, I guess,” Chanel said, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “He said he just wanted to have some fun. He had no intention of cheating. He was out with a group of guys from the office. One of them had a friend that invited him to this underground poker tournament.”
“This sounds like a lot of bullshit, Chanel. And then what, he got a woman pregnant? At a card game,” Jack said, rolling his eyes.
“Let her finish.” Harrison held his hand up to Jack and motioned her to keep going.
“He said that there weren’t even women there. Someone gave him a drink, and he doesn’t remember what happened next. He woke up in bed with some woman in a basement the next morning. He believes he was drugged. I know it doesn’t make what he did okay, but this is what he says happened. The woman then called him a year later and said she had a baby with him. She asked for a chunk of money and Dad insisted on taking a paternity test. They agreed to keep the results quiet as long as he paid up. The results came back positive and he was scared. It was a cowardly reaction. He should have come clean. Told the truth. He transferred money into her account every month for the last twenty-three years, and he assumed it was going to Harley. He was afraid to tell Mom what happened. He messed up, I know he did. But this is where we are right now.”
“Jesus Christ,” I hissed. I didn’t know what to believe. Knowing what I knew of Valentina, did I believe this story possible? Yes. But Hanky should have stepped up and taken Harley from her. He just turned his back on her.
“He’s made a lot of mistakes. But all we can do is move forward,” Chanel said.
“I don’t know how to do that,” I said honestly, and looked over at my family. They would do whatever I wanted them to do. If supporting Harley meant cutting Hanky off, then that’s what they would do. Hell, just the fact that he’d lied about my father’s death was enough to cut ties with the asshole. The Montgomerys would always stand together.
“I don’t either. There’s no playbook for this mess. Dad is moving out of the house right now. He’s going to a hotel. Mom needs time to sort all of this out. I mean—it’s a lot to swallow. The fact that he lied about the accident—that we have a sister we didn’t know about.” Chanel shook her head and reached for her coffee mug.
I moved back to my seat and faced her. “Listen. I know this is tearing you apart. And I’m sorry for that. We think of you as family. I don’t hold this against you, Baron, or your mother. But I don’t see how I can ever forgive your father.”
Fresh tears broke free and ran down her face. “I know that, Ford. And I’m really sorry for what he did. If there was a way to fix this or right his wrongs. I’d do it. I think we all would.”
“I know you would,” my mother said, squeezing Chanel’s hand.
“Um, well, Ford, how do you think we should proceed with Harley?”
“Meaning?”
“She’s my sister. She’s Baron’s sister. We were also robbed of knowing her.” Her voice wobbled.
“I don’t know. I don’t have a fucking clue how any of this is going to work. I haven’t spoken to her. I don’t know how she feels about everything. I need to talk to her in person. But I do know this… Harley doesn’t want anything from your father. The one time she went to him, he was cold. He offered her money to go away. He made her feel small.” I pushed to my feet again. How the fuck do you take away twenty-three years of damage?
She nodded. “I get it. She probably hates us. But I’d be grateful if you could tell her that we didn’t know anything, and we’d like to get to know her.”
“I think that’s fair. It’s all very new and raw, so maybe you can reach out when things settle,” Harrison, the endless peacekeeper said.
“Yeah. For sure. I love you guys. I truly do. And I’m really sorry that this happened. I’m sorry that my father lied about your father’s accident. I’m sorry that their last conversation was a fight about something that my father should have shared a long time ago. Harley never should have been kept from us. Your dad knew the difference between right and wrong. Apparently, mine does not.” Chanel pushed to her feet and set her mug on the kitchen counter.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said. I needed to remember that Chanel was innocent in this. She’d been a friend for as long as I could remember, and she was also Harley’s sister. She was hurting too.
“Thanks for hearing me out.”
“Thanks for clearing the air.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, because for the first time in all the years I’d known this woman, it was awkward. Things would be different now. Maybe forever.
“It’s a start.” She waved before walking out the door.
I made my way back in the kitchen to find my brothers pouring bourbon in their coffee.
“It’s not even noon,” I said.
“Hey, we can deal with this reality tomorrow when we go back to our regular lives. But for today, can we not just do whatever the fuck we need to do to cope with this?” Jack said.
“I liked you better when you were eating donuts,” I said, reaching for the bourbon and taking a swig right from the bottle.
My mother shook her head and moved to her feet and reached to take the bottle from my hands. She tipped her head back and took a swig. We all three laughed at her.
“Hey, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” Mom shrugged.
We sat around the table talking the rest of the day. We drank too much. We shed some more tears. And we came to a decision.
We wouldn’t press charges against Hanky or reopen the investigation into my father’s death, as we had considered doing when we thought he’d been driving under the influence. We’d sifted through the police report and the hospital records, and we felt confident that his blood alcohol proved that alcohol was not the cause of the accident. Dredging this up would not bring Dad back. It would be hurtful to us, and the innocent members of the Reynolds family. Mom felt strongly that Hanky had probably been punishing himself for a long time, but she didn’t think there would ever be a way she could forgive him. And what he’d done to Harley, there was no moving past it. He knew he had a daughter, and he left her to fend for herself.
It was inexcusable.
Unforgivable.
I tried Harley once more. She sent me to voicemail again. Maybe this just wasn’t a talk we could have over the phone. I needed to talk to her in person.
I numbed myself late into the night, knowing that Monday morning would be waiting for me. And I would need to face reality.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harley
To say that the last day and a half had been the longest of my life, would be an understatement. I hadn’t spoken to Ford since I left the party Saturday night, and now here it was, Monday morning. He’d called me late Saturday but I’d fallen asleep on the couch with my phone in my hand, and of course it had died at some point. He hadn’t left a message. I didn’t reach out to him because I didn’t know what to say or even how he felt about everything that happened. He phoned me again last night and I
stared at the phone. Too afraid to pick it up. And he didn’t leave a message this time either. I mean, the truth is—he’d spent the last five years blaming himself for an accident that he thought he caused. Now he finds out that his father and Bryce were actually arguing over me? Maybe he’d blame me for his father’s death. Maybe this was too much for him. I mean, he loves Bryce, or Hanky, like a second father. He’s known me for, what five months? He’s known Hanky his entire life. Who’s he going to believe?
I made my way toward the bakery, and the sun had yet to come up. I had zero energy. I hardly ate yesterday, as I never got out of bed. I gave myself one day to sulk. My life had never been easy, and just when I was feeling a shift, like my luck had changed after meeting Ford, I got knocked back on my ass. I’m still fatigued from the ass-kicking I took from Damon and the kidnapping orchestrated by my mother a few weeks ago.
Fuck my life.
Haven’t I had my share of hard knocks? I just survived that horrific event, after a lifetime of the shit that came along with being Valentina DeLuca’s daughter, and now, now—my deadbeat father happens to be the godfather of the man I love? I mean, come on. You can’t make this shit up.
I blew out a long breath as I continued my trek. I’d survived a lot in my twenty-three years. More darkness than most people faced in one lifetime. And I’d go through it all again if it meant it would lead me to Ford. To the man who saved me. The man who made me want things that I never dreamed of.
A normal life.
A happy life.
A family.
People that care.
Fuck you, universe.
You gave me shit parents, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape them. Neither had ever been there for me—yet, somehow, they’d become my cross to bear.
I flipped the lights on in the bakery and headed in back to put on the coffee. I wondered if Ford would come to work today. Would he stop in for coffee like he did every other day, or just completely ignore me. Would he officially break up with me, or was this it?
Adios, Amigos. He’s done.
“Hey, Harls.” Molly strolled into the kitchen, took off her coat and reached for her apron.
“What in the world are you doing here this early?”
“I figured you’d need the moral support. Just in case he no-shows this morning, or if he does come and it’s awkward—I’m here for you, girl. I’ve got your back. Always.”
I pushed back the wetness that threatened to escape my eyes. I’d never cried more in my life than I had in the last forty-eight hours. And I hated it. It made me feel weak. Hell, maybe I was weak now. Maybe my cold, jaded heart had softened for this man. Because it ached. A dull pain had set up permanent residence in my chest.
“Thank you,” I said, and my voice wobbled.
Damn you, Ford Montgomery.
He made me soft, and then he left me alone.
She put an arm around my shoulder. “No. No more of that. You’ve done nothing wrong. You were dealt a shit hand, and it’s not your fault.”
“I was dealt a shit hand at birth. Can a girl not catch a break?” I asked. She laughed, and I swiped at the falling tears. “Sometimes I just feel so tired.”
“I know you do,” my best friend said, squeezing me tighter.
Molly had spent the day with me yesterday. She just sat on the bed beside me, trying to cheer me up. I’d pretended to be asleep when she finally left, because the thought of breaking down in front of her, in front of anyone—it was too much. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me. I didn’t want anyone’s pity.
No. I’d given myself the one day, and now it was time to pull up my big girl panties and get it together.
“You going to beat the crap out of that dough?” Molly asked with a laugh as I pounded it a few more times.
“Maybe.”
“Tell me again why you didn’t pick up his call last night so we would at least know what happened?” she asked, peeking up at me with one eye.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I was afraid to answer. If he’s going to dump me, he’s going to have to do it face-to-face. I mean, I’m sure Bryce lied. Made up an excuse. Damn Molly, why does he have to be the man that walked out on me? Couldn’t I just get a random deadbeat father?”
“I get it. But I don’t think Ford would believe him over you. After all, you have the truth on your side. Have you thought any more about the fact that you actually have siblings? I know you haven’t met Baron yet, but you like Chanel. Maybe you’ll gain a brother and sister out of this mess.”
Always the optimist.
“Um, I’m guessing they’ll hate me and blame me for all of this. And if Ford confronted Bryce, or told his brothers, then their families are involved. They might all hate me,” I said, cutting out the little circles and placing them on the cookie sheet.
Thank you, butter cookies for being a dependable joy in my life.
“Why would they hate you?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest and shaking her head.
“Why is my mom a drug addict? Why did my father want nothing to do with me my entire life? The hell if I know. The universe hates me. I’m a lone ship. A stray dog. It’s easy to blame me, Molls. And I’d be the simplest solution. They can make me the scapegoat. I mean, you’ve seen gangster movies. The bad guy is usually the last man standing. It’s the side act, the one-man shows—they take the fall. Think of The Godfather.”
“So, who are you in this scenario? Fredo?”
I laughed. I actually laughed. But tears followed, because god-for-freaking-bid I get a reprieve for a moment to not feel sad. “Probably, and Bryce is Al Pacino—of course he gets to be the godfather. Literally and figuratively. He’s got all the power. All the money. And everyone’s respect. Even though he’s a complete asshole.”
“Give me that dough. You’re either going to shred it to bits or hurt yourself.”
We cleaned up the kitchen, and the door chimed. We stared for a moment at one another before I made my way to the dining room.
Please be him.
Please be him.
“Hope I’m not too early, Toots. But I want to bring those pumpkin donuts to my bridge club today. Thought I’d catch you before the doors opened,” June said. She was one of my favorite customers, but I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. She was in her seventies, and funny as hell. On a normal day.
Today was not a normal day.
“No problem at all. How many would you like?” I asked, reaching for the large box.
“Two dozen ought to do it. Where’s that hunky man of yours?”
June was always the first customer here on Monday mornings. And Ford was usually on his way up to his office when she’d show up.
“He’s running late today,” I said, pushing the lump back in my throat.
“Well, he sure is one good-looking man, huh? Mmm… mmm. You’re a lucky lady.”
Thanks for the reminder, June. Let’s get a little more salt and throw it right in that wound.
“Yep. Very lucky,” I said, tying the twine around the box as the door chimed again.
And again.
None of the people who came through the door were Ford.
The next few hours went by, and I still hadn’t heard from him. Definitely not a good sign. Molly and I were swamped and worked right through our lunch break. When things finally started to slow down, I restocked the display case as my best friend sat up on the counter beside me and ate her sandwich.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“No,” I said. It was the truth. “But I’ll survive. I always do.”
The door chimed and I let out a breath. Could I not have a minute to just pull myself together?
I pushed out of the display case to greet my unwanted customer and froze when I saw Ford. Jack and Harrison stood on each side of him.
>
“Hey,” he said.
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what he was going to say, and I honestly couldn’t take any more heartache today. I liked it better when my heart didn’t feel so much. I wanted to go back to not caring. To the days before I met Ford Montgomery. I knew my heart couldn’t handle one more ding. Not today. Not from him.
“We need to talk,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Pfft.” Molly hopped off the counter, making all sorts of irritated noises and crossed her arms over her chest as she moved beside me. “Really? You need to talk?”
His sapphire blues shifted from her to me. He appeared completely puzzled by her coolness.
“I tried you twice, and you sent me to voicemail. I figured it was best to speak in person.” His gaze locked with mine.
“In the bakery, with an audience? Is that the easiest way for you to do this?” I hissed, squaring my shoulders.
“What? No? We just, well, it’s been a rough couple of days, and we drank too much, for starters. So, we’re severely hungover, and I wanted to come straight here to see you. And these two, well, I don’t know why they’re here.”
“Moral support,” Harrison whispered.
“I actually came for the cupcakes.” Jack shrugged. “And of course, for you, Harls.”
I tried to slip my armor in place as I had no idea what Ford was going to say, but I could feel myself unraveling with his nearness.
“Did you honestly think I was upset with you?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to think, Montgomery. You helped me into the car and told me to leave. And then…crickets. Nada. Zilch. I mean, yeah, you called, but you didn’t leave a message. I don’t know if you blame me for your father’s death. If you blame me for telling you the truth about Hanky. I don’t know anything.” My voice wobbled, and I did my best to keep it together. Molly placed a hand on my shoulder in comfort, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to fight back the tears.
He ran a hand through his hair, which was more disheveled than I’d ever seen it. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans. I’d never seen him so—casual.
