Your Forever Love (The Bennett Family #3)

by Layla Hagen

  “Yes, boss,” Alice says, leaving the room. After pushing the door shut, I walk over to the bed, rearranging the pillows so he can sit or sleep comfortably.

  “You don’t need to baby me, Pippa,” Dad says in a gentle tone. “I’m all right. I’m—”

  “Dad,” I say in a low voice—almost a whisper—while keeping my eyes on the pillow. “I know you’re strong, but you scared all of us last night.” Also, right now, with the gray hospital gown covering his pale, sweaty skin, he looks anything but strong. He looks weak and fragile, two words I have never associated with my father before. But I don’t tell him that. Instead, I decide he needs some tough love to realize how serious this is. When I speak next, my voice is strong and severe.

  “Mom was in shock. You have any idea what it was like to see her in that state while you were having surgery?”

  Dad jerks his head back, his lower lip trembling slightly. “No.”

  “It was horrible and scary. I don’t think she’d ever recover if she lost you. Follow the doctor’s instructions. Please, Daddy.”

  I keep my fingers crossed behind my back because Dad is not one to listen. However, he nods at me.

  “All right, I will.”

  Feeling bold, I decide to try my luck. “Also, I don’t want you to go back to the ranch to oversee the reparations.”

  “Pippa—”

  “No, Daddy, it has to be that way. You’ll put yourself in danger again, and I… What?”

  “You haven’t called me Daddy since you were nine years old.” His eyes are wide and glassy, as if he’s holding back tears.

  “I… Why did I stop?”

  He smiles at me. “I believe your words were, ‘It’s not cool.’”

  “Well, I was an idiot. Promise me you’ll stay put.”

  “I promise you, sweetheart,” Dad says, and pulls me in for a hug that makes me feel nine years old all over again. Every muscle in my body relaxes as I wrap my arms tightly around him.

  “Great, now you’re in for a few hours of babying, whether you want it or not.”

  ***

  Eric

  I’m in and out of meetings the entire day, skipping lunch and only taking a break around four o’clock when I receive a call from my mother.

  “Hello, Mother,” I say into the phone as I shut the door to my office. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you for the gift and the flowers, Eric.”

  “It’s not every year you turn seventy.”

  “Shh, don’t say that out loud,” she admonishes me, and I can’t help smiling. My mother stopped owning up to her age about twenty years ago. She’s tried to pass off as being in her late fifties for the better part of the last decade. To her credit, she does look incredible for her age.

  “So, how old are you unofficially? Is it still fifty-nine?” I notice a burger on my desk and immediately attack it. I make a mental note to thank my assistant—it’s part of my plan to be nicer to people. In my experience, being strict always works, but maybe Pippa’s on to something.

  “At my age, numbers are a taboo subject. If anyone in my bridge club brings it up, I stop inviting them to come over.”

  “Sounds very reasonable,” I tease her.

  “The bracelet you sent me is absolutely beautiful,” she continues.

  Ever year on her birthday, I send her roses and jewelry. This year, I sent her one of Pippa’s creations. Unable to sit anymore, I grab the burger in my free hand and pace around my office, stretching my legs.

  “I’ll let the designer know.” After a brief moment of hesitation, I add, “I’m dating her.”

  “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for years. I’m glad you’re finally giving yourself a chance.”

  “What do you mean?” I stop in front of the window, frowning.

  “Since Sarah died, you’ve closed yourself off. You—”

  “Mom, I’ve been busy. Raising a daughter and running a business isn’t easy.” Why did I ever think sharing this piece of information was going to be a good idea? Now I’ll never hear the end of it. Fact is, though, Mom genuinely worries for me. She tried more times than I can count to set me up with some bimbos—daughters of members of her bridge club.

  Between Mother’s matchmaking attempts and those of the Bennett clan, I’ll take the Bennetts every day.

  “That’s not an excuse,” she continues. “You make time for the people you want in your life, like me and Julie. If you’d wanted to make time for a woman, you would have.”

  My mother rarely confronts me about my personal life—usually preferring to set me up behind my back—but when she does, she’s spot-on.

  “Moving on is not a bad thing,” she continues. “Like I did with Gerald.”

  “Mom, let’s not talk about this again.”

  Three years after my father’s death, Mom announced she had a boyfriend. At first, I thought it would never last because Gerald is the opposite of Mom in every way. Where Mother is concerned with appearances and following rules to a T, Gerald is a laid-back guy. He’s a buffoon of sorts, but he makes her happy, so I’ve come to like him, even though his sense of humor completely escapes me. My mother had her fair share of pain, and she deserves to be happy. She handled pain much better than I did; she didn’t fall into a black hole. I always thought it was because she had time to say her good-byes to Dad. He died after a two-year battle with leukemia, whereas I lost Sarah to a car accident.

  “How are Julie’s etiquette classes going?” Mom’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

  “Fantastic.” The lie rolls off my tongue without effort. Mom insisted that twelve was the ‘proper age’ to start taking official etiquette classes. She’s been teaching Julie on her own for years and feels it’s time for formal lessons. Having been through that crap myself when I was a kid, there’s no chance I’ll put my daughter through it. It was so boring and over-the-top I wanted to poke my own eyes out. But Mom doesn’t have to know that. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, which calls for a change of topic.

  “When are you leaving to go to the Hamptons?”

  Mom’s best friend lives there, and they’ve been visiting each other regularly for as long as I can remember.

  “Oh, I won’t be going anymore. Bette is coming to Boston this year. I signed us both up for Krav Maga. It’ll shake things up.”

  “Krav Maga?” I ask, suddenly on alert. “Isn’t that a self-defense technique? Did you check with your doctor about this first?”

  “You don’t have to baby me. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

  Yeah, I bet Pippa’s dad said the exact same thing right before he landed himself in the hospital.

  “Well. I’ll leave you to your own business,” she says quickly, in an obvious attempt to get me off her back. “But consider this. If your seventy-year-old mother deserved a second chance at love, so do you,” she continues.

  A second chance… The words feel like a knife to my ribs. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I’ve been so focused on making sure I’m not asking Pippa for something she’s not ready for that I haven’t stopped to think about anything else. She and I are kindred spirits, and yes, maybe on the lookout for a second chance. Caring is dangerous, though. The more you care, the more debilitating the loss. I learned that years ago. But Pippa makes it impossible not to care for her. After last night, I want more than ever to be part of her life.

  The woman is irresistible, and I can’t get enough of her—talking to her, kissing her, making love to her. Every time I make her laugh feels like a small victory. Pippa Bennett will be one spoiled woman for as long as I’m here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pippa

  After my shift is over, I hurry home and dress to impress, even though I’d much rather stay at home, order some food, and curl up on my couch with a steamy romance book. I’m putting on the finishing touches when my phone rings. I beam when I see Eric’s name on the screen.

  “Hello, handsome,” I say.


  “Hi back. How are you feeling? How’s your dad?”

  “Dad is okay, I think. And I’m tired, but I still have to go to a charity event for a few hours,” I say as I apply my signature red lipstick for such events.

  “You can’t get out of it? Your dad is in the hospital. I’m sure they would understand.”

  “They would, yeah, but I don’t want to disappoint them. I’m the guest of honor, and it would be bad form not to show up. It’s for a good cause.”

  “You’re an amazing woman,” he says softly, causing me to blush. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”

  “Me too,” I admit. “Do you want to join me?” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if I’m pushing my luck. I have no idea if he wants to be seen at a relatively public event with me. We haven’t yet defined the boundaries of our… relationship.

  “Sure. I’ll pick you up from home. I planned to spend the evening with you. I told Julie you need me more than she does right now, and she understands. Ms. Blackwell is with her.”

  “Thank you. I—” My voice catches, so I clear my throat before continuing. “Can you be here in half an hour?”

  “Sure.”

  I’m grinning like an enamored teenager when I disconnect the call. He arrives twenty minutes later, and my grin stretches even wider when I see him in the doorway.

  “I love your lipstick,” he says. Tilting his head to one side, he adds, “Take it off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to thoroughly kiss you, and it’s in the way.”

  I hurry to the bathroom without complaint and wipe my lips clean. When I return, Eric pins me against the wall, savoring me as if I’m a fine dessert. I sigh against his mouth, my entire body melting against him. Having Eric by my side tonight is such a treat.

  Part of the charity gala was supposed to take place outside, but as we arrive at the location and I climb out of the car, I instantly know the weather will not be on our side tonight. It was cloudy the entire day, but now the sky is a violent swirl of purple, blue, and gray. The wind is stronger than it was when we left my apartment, and the sound of creaking leaves gives me chills.

  The head organizer, Felicia, goes through the schedule with me. I inform her that I won’t stay long, then climb up the stage in the center of the place, delivering the opening speech about the importance of the cause—education for underprivileged children. It’s a cause that is dear to my heart. Growing up, I looked at higher education as something that was out of my family’s reach. Our luck changed, and now it’s the least I can do to make sure others get a chance too.

  During the speech, my eyes sweep the room and settle on Eric, who is watching me with a serious expression. I wonder what’s on his mind.

  Felicia takes over the microphone after I’m done, and I scurry off the stage.

  “You were wonderful,” Eric whispers in my ear as I take my place at the table next to him. I take deep breaths, suddenly feeling faint. I haven’t eaten much today, but for some reason the appetizers on the table don’t look too appealing.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” I whisper back. At his inquisitive expression, I merely shake my head. I try to be as inconspicuous as possible as I walk through the tables. Everyone is focused on Felicia’s speech anyway. Once I reach the bathroom, I splash some cold water on my face and grip the sink with both hands, breathing in deeply.

  Not ready to return to my table yet, I decide to go outside for a few breaths of fresh air. When I step in the dimly lit corridor outside the bathroom, I instantly sense something’s not right.

  “Pippa,” a familiar and unpleasant voice greets me. I stiffen, sweat breaking out on my forehead.

  “Terence,” I say in a clipped tone. “What are you doing here? You hated these events.”

  “I do, but I knew you’d be here. Your name was on all the publicity materials. The golden girl representing the illustrious Bennett family.” He wobbles on his feet, clearly drunk—which is odd. He’s never been much of a drinker. I brace myself for what’s to come. Our last public encounters have been bad, but this has disaster written all over it. I don’t want him to cause a scene. At least the corridor is sheltered from the main room.

  I decide to take the bull by the horns. “You won’t get one cent from me. Whatever you have to say to me, do it through your lawyer.”

  He snorts, spitting on himself in the process, but he’s so drunk he doesn’t even notice. He looks worse for the wear—much worse. His suit is old and worn. The Terence I knew never stepped out of the house looking anything other than immaculate.

  After we broke up, he kept what he bought during our marriage—a small yacht, a sports car, and a collection of expensive watches. If he’d been smart and sold those, he would have had enough money that he didn’t have to work for years. Of course, Terence has never been smart. That’s why he’s contesting the court decision. He’s desperate.

  “My lawyer is excellent.”

  “He’s a sleaze,” I say calmly. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken you on as a client.”

  “Damn it, Pippa. I deserve something in return for spending so many years with you. I listened to your ramblings, tolerated your family. I touched you, slept with you, fucked you. It was worse than a fucking job.”

  I blink back tears. “You should have gotten a job, and then you wouldn’t have had to live off my money.”

  He stomps forward and knocks into me. I stumble backward until I hit the wall, with Terence half collapsing on me. He grips my shoulder for support and straightens up, and I freeze. He’s never been violent, but the aggressive look in his eyes tonight chills me to the bone. “I will receive my share.”

  “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Eric’s says, right before pushing Terence off me. I hadn’t seen him coming, but I’ve never been happier to see him.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Terence spats at him.

  “That’s right. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Eric Callahan.” Then he raises his fist and hits Terence straight in the center of the face. I shriek, covering my mouth as Terence stumbles back. His nose is a bloody mess, which he realizes when he covers his face with his palms. He steps back quickly, as if determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and Eric.

  Eric steps forward, his intent clear. He’s not done with Terence. Before I can open my mouth to beg him to stop, two heavily built men step in—security, judging by their outfits and the microphones in their ears.

  “We’ve been alerted there’s been an incident here,” one of the men says.

  “He assaulted me.” Terence points at his nose and then at Eric.

  “He was defending me,” I say in a strong voice. “That man is my ex-husband, and he attacked me. Eric was merely defending me.”

  Eric puts his arm around my waist, kissing my forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmurs in my ear.

  I nod, leaning in to him, soaking in his warmth.

  “We are sorry for this, Ms. Bennett,” one of the guards tells me. “We will escort him off the premises right now. Do you want us to call the police and press charges?”

  I shake my head.

  “Pippa—” Eric begins, but I cut him off.

  “No,” I tell him in a strong voice. “I need to go home.” Turning to the guards, I say, “Please inform Felicia of the incident, and that I’m leaving.” I can’t step in the spotlight again tonight.

  “Of course,” the man says. “Please accept our apology.”

  Eric and I walk to the car, neither of us speaking. Eric is still too mad, and I am still too shaken.

  “How’s your hand?” I ask once the car is in motion.

  “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “How are you? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, he… It was weird. He stumbled and grabbed me for support. I don’t think he meant to—”

  “Don’t fucking defend him.”

  “I’m not defending him,” I say, starting to feel mad too. “But Terence is not a v
iolent man. He was drunk tonight.”

  “Why didn’t you want to press charges?”

  I sink lower in my seat, resting my hands on the silk top of my dress. Looking out the window, I say, “I just didn’t.”

  “Do you want to call Alice?”

  I snap my head in his direction. “No. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Max or anyone else either.”

  Eric’s jaw ticks, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel tighter. “If I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have told me either?”

  I hesitate for a beat. “I might have told you. Now, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m hungry. Damn, something with sugar or caffeine would be great now.”

  “Huh? You want—”

  “No, no. I won’t be able to sleep if I drink coffee now. But can we buy some Chinese food and dessert?”

  Eric nods and squeezes my hand lightly.

  ***

  We walk inside my apartment a while later, and I sashay to the kitchen to unwrap the food. “I’ve been dreaming about a cozy night in with a book and take out the entire day. Almost forgot about the charity event.”

  Eric wraps one arm around my waist from behind while I busy myself at the counter. Swiping my hair to one side, he bares my neck and kisses it gently.

  “I want you to relax. I’ll do everything.”

  “You don’t have to,” I tell him. He turns me around, caressing my cheek.

  “Right, but you had a tough day, and I don’t want you to do anything else right now. Okay?”

  Sighing, I lean in to his caress, a little overwhelmed by so much attention and care. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. At the charity and now back here. You don’t have to spoil me.”

  “Oh, but I do.” He kisses my forehead and adds, “You deserve to be spoiled. And I want to be the man to do it.”

  “Okay,” I say, almost breathless, stepping aside. “How was your day? I’m warning you, I don’t want to talk about what happened tonight, so you’d better talk. I want to hear something nice.”