Over You (A Mr. Darcy Valentine's Romance Novel)

by H. M. Ward

  “Grant told me you made her quit because you didn’t approve of her modeling.”

  “All I want is to see Gwen happy. I’d never intentionally take away something she loves to do. But the stress was making her disorder worse. She hated me for suggesting she quit, but she understood my reasoning. Grant didn’t make it any easier for her either. He was her agent, profiting from her talent. He didn’t care about her. He only cared about the money.”

  “So the story about you turning Gwen into an alcoholic because you made her quit?”

  “A lie. When she gets vertigo, her world is off-balance. When she walks, it looks like she’s drunk. Gwen’s very private about her disorder, so she doesn’t correct public misperceptions. An episode can come on suddenly, preventing her from driving, and I have to watch her carefully. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  I take a moment to take in everything he’s saying. I remember the way he watched Gwen while she danced at the gala and Six Degrees.

  “I want Gwen to do things that make her happy. Modeling no longer made her happy, but I realized that before she did. As much as I wish she would write in a different genre of novel, she seems fulfilled creating her mommy porn books.”

  “It’s erotic romance not just for mommies.” A smile slowly spreads across my face.

  He gives me a whisper of a smile. “Right, erotic romance.”

  I bite my lip for a moment, thinking. “So, Grant lied to me.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What about the rest? His parents? Did you really rob them?”

  “Yes, that was me.”

  “You used your adoptive parents’ money in a Ponzi scheme?”

  “Not exactly.” His gaze drops to his hands, making it apparent this is a painful story to tell. “When Grant realized he wouldn't make any more money off of Gwen, he looked for other ways he could turn a profit quickly. He accessed his parents' accounts draining them silently, nearly wiping them out.”

  I feel the corner of my mouth twitch as I swallow the urge to interrupt. At this point, I don’t know if this story is fact or fiction. It’s hard to know what’s true and what’s been added to play me.

  Darcy swallows hard, avoiding my gaze as he finishes. “I tried to cover Grant’s tracks by creating a paper trail to make it look like he took their money to invest it in a Ponzi scheme. When our father discovered the money was missing, I told him Grant was trying to increase their savings, but went about it the wrong way.”

  “Why would you do that?" I blink at him, gaping. He covered for Grant? The guy he so obviously hates? The story is passing the smell test because I don’t see any reason why Darcy would cover for the guy. Maybe he has a soft spot I didn’t see before.

  Maybe he didn’t want you to see it. The thought echoes in the back of my mind as his eyes meet mine.

  His palms are facing up, his fingers are loosely tangled, as if he’s trying not to wring his hands. “Because it would have broken our parents’ hearts if they knew. Grant took their life savings and threw it away.”

  “So, Grant didn’t keep the money?” Darcy shakes his head. “But why? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Unease grips Darcy’s shoulders firmly and, in one shake, they drop. He looks to either side, lips parted, as if deciding whether or not to tell me more. “There are things I wanted to protect him from.”

  I scowl. “That’s understandable, but it’s also a lame answer. You can’t tell me half a story and expect me to think there wasn’t something nefarious going on—some reason you’d need to cover your own ass.” Disappointed, I lower my face to the ground and am about to turn when he reaches for my arm, stopping me.

  The touch is light, then his hands return to his sides. His eyes rake my face, trying to decide something. He blinks and words follow. “It’s not my secret, nor my shame. I don’t want to make things harder for Grant. I’m trusting you with information about my family that has the potential to cause more pain than you could possibly imagine.” He swallows hard, takes a deep breath and meets my eyes. “It has nothing to do with me. I know it’s not possible to save people, but it’s not like me to give up on them either. Grant stole our parent’s money to get high. He’s addicted to cocaine—has been for a while.”

  I tear my gaze away and repress the urge to pace and tick off things on my fingers. Was I seriously alone with a crackhead without realizing it? He was a little moody, okay very moody, but he was also insanely hot so I let it slide. I thought he had guy PMS not a drug problem.

  Darcy keeps spilling his secrets, not stopping, not waiting for me to pass judgment. “That’s also why I told him to stay away from you. I threatened to tell our parents the truth about the real reason the money went missing. Thank God it worked, but it hurts that he believes I’d go through with it. The Wickhams raised Gwen and me as if we were their own. I could never hurt them like that.”

  I stare at him, wondering if I know this man at all. I open my mouth, but have no idea what to say.

  “Beth, when you overheard me speaking with Cameron at the Degatto’s charity gala, I was fighting against my attraction to you.”

  “Why?”

  The corner of his mouth pulls up into a crooked smile and he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t usually have said anything like that, but your mother had just announced to the room that she was hunting for billionaire husbands for her daughters. Between that and Cameron’s history of helping me, I was trying to bow out gracefully. I had no idea you were there. I’m so sorry.”

  My heart is twisting inside of my chest. He thought I was attractive? Really?

  I ignore that train of thought. I have no freaking clue what station I’ll end up at.

  I redirect toward the woman always at the center of everything, like it or not. “I’m sorry, I know that my mother can be... There are no words for her. I can see why you had your guard up that night and probably since then. There is nothing comparable to my mother’s mouth.”

  William moves closer to me and my breath catches with surprise. His eyes lock with mine as he speaks. “Then I saw you with Colin Frey, and I was jealous. I wanted to be the one to make you laugh and act silly. I wanted to be the one you lean on, the one you look to when you need help. I desperately wanted to be the one you cling to when you feel alone.”

  His incredible blue eyes drift toward my lips as his hand comes to my face. I wonder if he’s going to stroke my cheek, but he doesn’t. Instead he tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear. He leans in slowly, lips parting. I hold my breath as the space between us closes. His warm breath cascades over my skin making my lips part in response.

  The kiss is charged and I can already feel the current surging through me. The memory of his mouth on mine, of those sinful lips on my body sends an undeniable jolt through me—this is more than lust. I want tender kisses, not just hot devouring caresses from this man. A tremble begins somewhere inside of me, ripping through my body at the thought. I want to run, but my feet won’t move. That kiss is too important. It’ll change everything.

  He lingers waiting for me, allowing me to be the one to decide where this relationship goes. My pulse races, deafening the sounds of the sky tearing in two, drowning out the rain and thunder. It’s only me and Darcy.

  The vibration of my phone shakes me back to reality.

  Darcy’s eyes are glassy. His gaze drifts to the phone.

  MOM: WHERE ARE YOU!

  What is she talking about? Oh, God! The engagement. I forgot.

  “Colin.”

  Darcy freezes as I whisper my friend’s name. Hurt floods his handsome face, and he pulls back. “You love him.”

  “Yes, I do, but it’s not—”

  “Forgive me for burdening you with all of this. I won’t mention it again.”

  I watch him walk away, his proud shoulders slumped. I want to go to him, to tell him to come back. I can’t.

  Without a word, he turns and disappears into the dark rainy night.

  I fall back against
the wall, my knees too weak to hold my weight anymore. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I think I’m going crazy. I want to run after him and tell him I’m an idiot. I want to tell him off for making me come dangerously close to falling for him.

  The truth is I fell for him a long time ago. Maybe I did see the real William Darcy all those times? My own stupidity blinded me to it.

  My phone buzzes again, and I snatch it out of my pocket with half a mind to throw it in a puddle. I glimpse at the screen and in an instant, I’m running full-speed out of the arcade.

  MARY: Dad’s at Mount Sinai Hospital. Come quick!

  CHAPTER 32

  There’s a woman I don't know sitting on Dad’s hospital bed. She looks like my mother, but instead of perfectly coiffed hair, this woman’s hair is lifeless and flat, her skin devoid of makeup. My mother never leaves the apartment without her “face” on.

  Jane and Mary sit in the corner of the room. Jane’s sobbing and Mary has an arm around her, trying to comfort her.

  “David, I’m so sorry,” the woman’s voice croaks. “I tried. I really did.”

  “Mother?” I can’t believe it’s her. The mother I know doesn’t cry in public. She doesn’t express anything resembling love.

  Weepy hazel eyes turn to lock on mine, and I glimpse the mother I remember from childhood. The mother who rocked me to sleep when I was sick, kissed my boo-boos, and braided my hair while she told me I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up. Somehow, somewhere, that mother disappeared, and I forgot she ever existed.

  Her face shifts and her more familiar stern features reappear. She wipes the tears from her cheeks, stiffening her shoulders before she speaks. “Beth, we’ve been trying to reach you all evening.”

  “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Beth?” A weak voice croaks so softly that it’s barely audible.

  I rush to the bed at the sound of Dad’s voice. He sounds so fragile. “Dad?”

  “Remember what I told you about your mother,” he says. I glance back at her. The stern expression is gone and tears glisten in her eyes as she gazes at him lovingly.

  “Please, David. Don’t talk. I’ll take care of everything.” Mother cups his pale cheek. “You rest.”

  Dad’s brown eyes look at Mother tenderly as he continues. “Beth, she’s the love of my life. Never forget that.” His voice falters as his head drops, and he loses consciousness.

  “Dad!” I freak out, shaking his shoulder. “Dad!”

  “Let him sleep, Beth,” Mother says.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I look to Mary.

  Mary shakes her head. Her eyes are puffy and rimmed with redness. She’s been crying and swatting away tears, trying to convince herself this nightmare isn’t happening. Because it’s not nothing. Anyone that looks at Dad can see this isn’t something minor.

  Mary clears her throat. “Mother wanted to wait until we were all here to tell us.”

  “Well, we’re here, tell us.” From the expression on Mother's face, I know this is the secret. This is what they've been keeping from us since I returned to New York.

  “There’s no easy way to say this. Your father has been sick for some time. His kidneys are failing, both of them. He’s been on the transplant list for a while now, but if he doesn’t get one soon, he’ll . . . he’ll . . .” she bursts into tears.

  My heart plummets to my stomach, and I can’t breathe. The room grows still as I take in the meaning of what Mother’s telling us. It’s like everything is in slow motion. Jane’s face transforms into someone I don’t recognize. Her mouth drops open as if screaming, but nothing comes out.

  Mary is a statue. From beneath thick black bangs, soft brown eyes widen in terror. It’s the same expression she had when she lost Sofia. Then her eyes narrow and her red lips press into a thin line.

  “I have a kidney.” Mary’s voice sounds strained, as if she’s fighting against breaking down. “Where do I sign up? Come on, Mother. We’re wasting time crying. Let’s find a surgeon. Now!”

  Mother jumps at Mary’s harsh tone and, just this once, I feel bad for her. “Mary, I think it’s more complicated than that. If it were that easy, Dad would’ve gotten a transplant already. Right? It’s not that simple, is it?”

  Mother looks at me gratefully as she dabs a tissue around her eyes. “No, it isn’t. We’ve been searching for a match, but none of us are a fit. He’s been on dialysis, and it worked for a while, but then he started getting worse.” She starts to cry again as the words rush out of her. “Insurance didn’t cover half of the expenses and… and we used up all our savings. We borrowed against the mortgage on the apartment and on the company’s holdings, and now it looks like we will lose everything—including your father.”

  “Whoa, Mother, slow down. How long has Dad been on dialysis?”

  “Twenty-five months.”

  “Two years!” Mary screams. “You had Dad on dialysis for two fucking years?”

  Mary spits out a slew of curses. Jane’s lips are moving, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.

  “Mary, calm down. Jane’s trying to talk.”

  Mary huffs, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Mother, why didn’t you tell us about this before? Why didn't you tell us when Dad went to the hospital a few months ago, when Beth moved back home?” Jane speaks carefully, calmly even though she’s splintering apart inside.

  “Your father didn’t want any of you to know. Neither of us wanted to put you through this.”

  “You don’t have to do this alone,” Jane’s eyes are big as she holds Mother’s gaze. “We’re family.”

  Mother lets out a sob. Jane pats her back as Mother cries into her chest. “I wanted my girls to have good lives. I didn’t want you to worry about us. I tried. I was so sure I could find someone to care for each of you financially. We have nothing left to give you.”

  My jaw drops. “Is that why you've spent the last few months dragging us to galas hunting for billionaires? To find someone to care for us? Mother, we can take care of ourselves. Spending all that money on sundresses and gowns,” I temper my words and simply ask, “What were you thinking?”

  Mother blows her nose, shaking her head. “I only bought clothes for Jane when she went to Cameron’s to paint the mural.”

  “But I saw you with shopping bags all the time.”

  Mother’s face flushes a bright pink. “They were empty. Sometimes I put my own clothes in the bags, and when I went shopping with Catherine Degatto, I returned each purchase the next day.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I had to keep up appearances. No man of wealth would go near any of you if they thought we were poor. They’d think we were only after their money.”

  I shake my head, unable to process the flawed logic without being cruel. Mary’s been leaning in the doorway, arms over her chest and fails to maintain her anger. She’s the first with a chuckle, closely followed by Jane’s high-pitched giggle. Then we’re all laughing.

  Tears stream down my face, I’m laughing so hard. I’m laughing at the crazy that is my life. Dad keeps a secret from us, risking his life not to worry us. Mother pretends to be rich so we can marry into wealth. And me, agreeing to marry my gay best friend so he can pretend to be straight. When did life get so messed up?

  “It’s not funny,” Mother says over our laughter.

  “I know it’s not,” I finally say when I catch my breath. I pad over to her and place my hand on her shoulder. “I love you, I don’t say it enough, but I do. And if I’m ever in a bad spot, I know I want you fighting for me.”

  She offers a weak smile and pats her nose with a tissue. “I am fighting for you, for all of you. I thought if we had some of the finances smoothed out, it wouldn’t be so difficult.”

  “You’re not alone anymore, Ma.” I tease her, calling her the pet name from happier times.

  She holds my hand and squeezes it hard. “I know and I’m so thankful you stayed.”

  CHAPTE
R 33

  We all have tests run to double check, but there’s still no match. Dad’s body doesn’t have even the slightest chance of accepting my kidney, Mary’s or Jane’s. Mary’s frustrated scream after being told she couldn’t help is haunting. I hear it long after the echo fades.

  Dr. Wade is explaining things to us. Jane and Mother ask a few questions while Mary glares at the doctor, arms folded over her chest.

  "Have faith, Ms. Bennet." Dr. Wade shoots Mary a confident smile. "There's time and opportunity for a miracle yet."

  He leaves, and I sink back into my chair. It feels like all the air left the room with Dr. Wade. I want to scream, to march down to the nurse's station and throw things until they find a way to fix this. All I can do is stare.

  Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I watch as Mother rushes to the door. "I need some fresh air and a cup of coffee," she says, turning the knob. "Do you need anything?"

  The words seem to reverberate within the room. I need to save our home. I need to save our company. I need to save Dad. How am I not a match? I'm the most like him—same eyes, same hair, same coloring. Why won't my kidney save his life?

  "No, Mother. Thank you."

  She smiles at me from the doorway, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "You've done all you can, Beth. Now we wait. We haven't lost him yet." Her voice cracks and a sob escapes her lips. She runs from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

  Mother and I haven't left Dad's side for days. While Mary and Jane take turns camping at Dad's office, doing what they can to keep his business running, Mother and I stationed ourselves in the chairs on either side of his bed. He floats in and out of consciousness and, in those few precious moments he's awake, we tell him we love him.

  Mary, Jane, and I pooled all our savings, money from any account we could think of. It isn't much. It feels like even less after our conversation with hospital billing. We owe hundreds of thousands of dollars, a total that’s rapidly increasing each day.