Redemption (A Golden Beach Novel Book 5)

by Kim Loraine

  Pride filled Mitchell’s face. “Mommy says I look just like my daddy. Spit . . . spitty image.” He looked at Michael with a question in his eyes. “Right, Daddy?”

  Nodding, Michael couldn’t keep the amusement from his tone. “Spitting, bud. Spitting image.”

  A confused look crossed Missy’s face as she looked at the two of them. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. What do you want for breakfast? I heard hot chocolate.”

  “We’re having waffles!” Mitchell crowed.

  Michael nodded. “Waffles, with the works on them.”

  Missy sashayed away with their order as Michael pulled out his phone and called Lena.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “I’m still mad at you.”

  Disappointment took hold in his gut. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, baby.”

  “You could fill a bucket with all of the sorrys you’ve handed me since we met.”

  “I deserved that. Look, can you at least let me come see you? I missed you so much.”

  “That’s not how it seemed last night.”

  Missy deposited a mug of cocoa in front of Mitchell with whipped cream piled so high all that was visible were the little boy’s eyes behind the confection. She slid a cup of coffee in front of Michael with a wink before she left and he murmured a soft, “Thanks.”

  “Where are you?” Lena asked.

  “I took Mitchell to breakfast.”

  “Just Mitchell?” Her tone was wary.

  “Yes. He’s my priority, not her.” He kept his words guarded, not wanting to speak badly of Kate in front of Mitchell. “Can I see you? We’re going to spend the night with Mom and Dad tonight.”

  She let out a defeated sigh and his heart clenched. “Fine. I’ll be at Mama’s all day.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. If he could see her, he could convince her to forgive him.

  “I don’t know, Hallie. Things are so complicated.” Lena dug her toes into the sand, shivering a little as the cold, February wind gusted.

  Her friend looked down the beach, before tossing a rock into the surf. “It really is. So, you think he still loves her?”

  Lena shrugged. “I’m not sure. He can’t say the words to me. I’ve always thought if you can’t say them, it’s because they belong to someone else.”

  “I wish I could offer you some sage words of advice, but I’ve struck out on the love front. Honestly, I’m probably the worst option for a pep talk.”

  Tears hovered on the brink of falling from her eyes as she took a steadying breath. “It’s okay. I think I lost him the minute he found out I don’t want kids. He’s just holding on out of obligation to me at this point. I should just cut him loose.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t see how this can work. He’s never gotten over her, she’s giving him what he always wanted. If I let him go, he can be happy with her.”

  Handing her a rock, Hallie tossed another one at the gray water. “Not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you talking to Valerie about this? She’s your bestie.”

  “She’d tell Donovan. He’d tell Michael.”

  “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re right. Well, thanks for trusting me. Even if I’m no help.”

  Lena turned the smooth stone over in her fingers, rubbing her thumb over the flat surface again and again. “You know, just talking it through was a big help.” Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. When she glanced at the screen, a weight settled on her chest.

  Heading over now.

  With shaking hands, she slid her phone back into her pocket. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Michael?” Hallie asked.

  Nodding, she offered a weak smile to her friend. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Good luck. Call me if you need to.”

  Michael was waiting for her when she pulled into the driveway at her mom’s house. The sight of him still sent waves of need through her body; need and love. His eyes looked tired, as if he’d stayed up all night. Good. She hoped he’d spent the whole night tossing and turning just as she had.

  As soon as she stepped out of the car, he moved toward her. “Baby, please listen.”

  She stopped him with a firm hand pressing against his chest. “I don’t think I can do this, Michael.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, though her voice trembled. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Can’t do what?” He bit the words out, his shoulders shaking.

  “You are so desperate to have this life you pictured that anyone will do. I was just the first willing participant. Only, you didn’t take the time to consider what I want. I told you, I’m not the two-point-five kids, white picket fence, pearls and heels kind of wife. That’s what you want. What you need. I can’t give it to you. That’s what you could have with Kate and Mitchell.”

  “Baby, I want this to work. I want us. But Kate and Mitchell are going to be a part of my life now.”

  “Are you even sure he’s yours?”

  “What did you just say?” Anger burned in his eyes.

  “He doesn’t look like you at all. How can you trust that he’s your son when she left you the way she did?”

  “He’s mine. You don’t know her like I do. She’s been through a lot.”

  Her heart clenched at his defense of the woman who’d crushed him. “See? You’ll defend her until the end. It’s not me you want. Let me go.”

  Panic flashed over his features as a tear slid down his cheek. Her heart shattered when his hazel eyes met hers.

  “I love you, Michael. But you don’t love me. Not the real me. You might love the idea of me. The woman you want me to be. The truth is, we never should have been together in the first place. We’re too different.” Her voice wobbled as she struggled to keep her heartbreak under control. “Tell me you love me and I’ll stay.”

  Anguish flashed in his eyes, followed by defeat. She had her answer. Blinking back tears, she took back her hand and moved to pull off her wedding rings.

  “No,” he said, placing his hand over hers. “We’re not done. We’ll figure this out one way or another.”

  Sighing, she pulled her hand free. “Rhett called. South America was canceled. They want me in New York instead. I said I’d go. Take some time. Figure yourself out. I need to do the same.” She fought off the sobs that threatened to escape from her chest.

  “Baby, please . . .”

  “Stop. Don’t call me baby anymore, Michael. Leave me alone. I need to figure out what’s best.”

  Before the sobs broke through, she pushed past him and into her mom’s house, locking the door behind her. She heard his shout of “Goddammit!” as she sank to the floor and finally let the tears come.

  Chapter 18

  She’d left him. Lena was gone, just like Kate. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and willed away the tears burning his eyes. They always left him. Every person he’d ever loved had eventually left him.

  “God-fucking-dammit!” he screamed at the empty room.

  It had been two days, two fucking days, and she was already gone. Her mom said she’d spent one night with her before getting on a plane and heading North. To New York—to the life she really wanted. Her words played over and over in his head, a constant loop, torturing him. Tell me you love me and I’ll stay. That was all he’d needed to do. Why couldn’t he say it? He’d been so free with the sentiment just five years earlier when he’d thought he’d found forever with Kate. Even now, the memory of that day sent a searing pain through his chest.

  He stood outside the cathedral, heart racing as his family waited for hers to arrive. This was it. After the rehearsal, they’d spend a day apart and then they’d be married. It was all he could thi
nk about. A life with Kate, a happy future filled with family dinners and laughter.

  Checking the clock on his cell phone, he shifted uncomfortably, tugging at his tie. She was late. Not surprising, really. Kate was late for everything. But the longer he stood there, waiting in the crisp fall air, the more uneasy he felt. Where was her family? They should be here at least. Her maid-of-honor was pacing, texting furiously. Michael locked eyes with her and his heart sank. The look on her face was full of pity.

  “What? What happened? Is she hurt?” His voice broke on the last word.

  As she opened her mouth to speak, his phone vibrated in his breast pocket.

  I’m sorry. I can’t.

  Four words, sent in a fucking text message, ripped his heart from his chest and crushed it to a bloody pulp right there on the steps of St. Andrews.

  I’m sorry. I can’t.

  After everything—years together—he’d been relegated to a break-up via text two days before their huge Catholic wedding ceremony. Three hundred people were coming. Practically the entire town. He was going to be sick. Everything they’d planned together was wiped away by her four simple words.

  Shaking his head to clear the painful memory, Michael poured himself a bourbon. He downed it in one long gulp, the burn filling the ache in his belly and numbing his senses. Letting out a harsh cough, he poured another.

  And another.

  And another.

  The phone was ringing. No, it was blaring. The sound sliced through Michael’s alcohol-soaked brain, sending agony straight to his nerve endings.

  “Whoever this is better be on fucking fire right now,” he slurred into the phone.

  “Michael Eugene Oliver, you don’t speak to your mother that way!” His mom’s sharp tone sobered him just enough to bring rolling nausea with it.

  “Mama, shit, I’m sorry.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Maybe,” he muttered. “I’m a grown ass man. I can drink if I want.”

  “Oh, honey. What happened?” Her voice turned sympathetic.

  He didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted it to all go away. “Nothing. I’m fantastic.” He drew the last word out, making it sound like two.

  Stumbling through his kitchen, he checked the clock. It was just before nine in the morning. The last thing he remembered, he’d been making friends with a bottle of bourbon twelve hours earlier. Shit. “What do you need, Mama?” he managed, as he tossed a few tablespoons of coffee grounds into a filter and started the brewer.

  “Gracie called. She wants us to send some of John’s old things, some photo albums, a few mementos. I guess Drew is ready to learn more about him. I wanted to check with you. Did you have anything you think he should see? Maybe from your cross-country trip?”

  Shaking his head to clear the fog, he winced as his skull throbbed. “I don’t know, Mama. Maybe. Can I call you back?” He didn’t want to think of his brother.

  She sighed. “Honey, you don’t sound right. Can I help you?”

  “No. I’ll be fine. Just give me a few days, okay?”

  “Sure. I’m going to send the package off on Friday. Can you have your contribution to me by then?”

  He grunted something that sounded like an affirmative response and hung up the phone, pouring himself a coffee and sitting at the table. His stomach ached, head pounded, and his heart felt numb. Letting his coffee get cold, he rested his head on his folded forearms and willed away the deep pain that covered his body.

  The sound of the doorbell woke him. His face was lying in a puddle of drool and as he came to, he clumsily knocked over the full cup of coffee he’d poured earlier.

  “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.

  The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied by loud knocking and Donovan’s voice. “Michael, come on, man. I know you’re in there.”

  Rolling his head from side to side, he stretched out the tense muscles of his neck as he tossed a kitchen towel over the pool of spilled coffee. “I’m coming, you jackass. Stop shouting.”

  Pulling open the door, he came face to face with not only Donovan, but Valerie. The petite blonde’s large blue eyes were filled with pity. He wanted to slam the door in their faces.

  “Hey, Michael.” She kept her voice soft and measured. “You doing okay?”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay,” he grumbled. “What do you want?”

  Donovan tensed. “Don’t start getting pissy with her. She’s just doing what Lena asked.”

  Lena asked them to check on him? That was a good sign. Maybe she’d changed her mind.

  “She wanted me to pick up her stuff and send it to her in New York. I, uh, I guess she’s planning to stay.”

  All the air left his lungs. Stay? She was staying? No. How could they fix anything if she didn’t come back?

  “Dude, you look like you’re going to puke,” Donovan said, stepping in front of Valerie and grasping Michael’s shoulders.

  “She’s fucking staying?” Michael whispered, mostly to himself.

  “Man, what happened?”

  Michael sank to the floor with his head in his hands. “I don’t know. She left me. I fucked up and she left.”

  Valerie brushed past him, giving his shoulder a little squeeze as she made her way to the bedroom. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

  Donovan’s gaze landed on his fiancée. “You need help, sweetheart?”

  Shaking her head, she offered a sad smile. “No. You guys hang out. I’ve got this.”

  He sat on the floor as Valerie boxed up Lena’s belongings. Donovan brushed past him and started banging around in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. Michael heard the sound of his gas stove igniting, followed by the crack of eggs.

  “You got any bacon?” Donovan called.

  Forcing himself off the floor, Michael trudged into the kitchen to find his friend had made himself at home.

  “No.”

  “Sausage?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.” Donovan stuck his head in the refrigerator and searched. “Ah, ham, cheese, spinach. Perfect.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Dude, I’m hungry. I’m making an omelet, then some coffee. You want to eat?”

  He rolled his eyes as Donovan continued preparing breakfast. “You’re always fucking hungry. Fine. Make me one, too.”

  Sitting down to eat, Michael stared at the eggs, willing away the hangover. They’d found some potatoes and fried up hash browns as well while fresh coffee had brewed. Donovan doused his food with hot sauce and shoveled a forkful into his mouth, gaze trained on his plate.

  “Aren’t you going to try and give me some sort of bullshit relationship advice?”

  His friend shrugged, swallowing and taking a swig of his coffee before answering. “What the fuck do I know about relationships?”

  “You and Valerie seem pretty damn happy.”

  A soft look crossed Donovan’s features. “We are, now. It wasn’t easy to get here, though.”

  Nodding, Michael returned to his meal. The two men ate in silence for a while, until Valerie walked in, pulling a suitcase behind her. “Okay, I think I’ve got everything.”

  Donovan stood, grabbing the heavy luggage and pressing a light kiss to Valerie’s forehead. “Let me get that, sweetheart.” Turning to Michael, he asked, “You good?”

  Michael nodded and waved him off. The two of them headed outside, leaving him alone in the stifling silence.

  Lena grimaced as her phone rang . . . again. Michael had been calling non-stop for the last day and a half. She’d only been in New York for a week, and already he was trying to bring her back. She should have known sending Valerie to pack up her things would upset him, but she’d left with nothing but the clothes i
n her suitcase. She couldn’t face him. Not yet. Valerie was the best option.

  Sighing, she walked down 5th Avenue, heading for Tiffany’s. She’d spent countless hours watching “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” with her mom. With a paper cup filled with coffee in one hand, and a croissant in the other, she stood before the vast facade and stared at the sign. Pulling out her phone, she stuck the pastry between her teeth, stood next to the familiar logo, and snapped a selfie. As she prepared to send the photo to Valerie, her phone rang once more. She couldn’t avoid him any longer.

  Her hand shook as she answered the call, attempting to balance her breakfast on top of the coffee cup.

  “This isn’t space, Michael. Calling me a week after I leave is the opposite of space.”

  His heavy sigh on the other end of the line sent pain lancing through her heart. She hated that he was hurting, but this was the right thing to do. He needed her to let go.

  “Lena, shit. I don’t want this. I don’t want you to be gone. Please come back. We need some time together, just you and me.”

  “That’s not what this is about. You’re no good for me.” The words burned her throat. “You . . . You make me feel like I’m not enough, like any second you’re going to realize you don’t want me.”

  He let out a scoff, and cleared his throat. “How have I done that? I spent every damn day waiting for you to find time to call me while you were gone. I answered every goddamn text, every email. I waited up until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, just in case you called. So tell me . . . how did I make you feel like that?” His voice was filled with anger, the volume rising with each word.

  “I could see it in your eyes. When you looked at Kate in our house. When you talk about her. You’re still in love with her, you just can’t see it yourself.”

  “I’m not in fucking love with her!”

  “You are!” Tears sprung to her eyes as she walked aimlessly down 5th Avenue. “I can’t talk about this now. Please, don’t call me. I need some separation, like I said. And you . . . you need the same. Stop trying to make this happen. We need to admit we made a mistake and move on.”