by Lili Valente
“I’m not talking about the visit,” he says, never one to mince words. “I’m talking about Catherine. I never thought I’d see the day, but you made a damned good choice, son. She’s good people. She’s going to be a beautiful bride, a strong partner for you, and a wonderful mother to your children.”
My eyes go wide. I’m so shocked, I can’t think of a thing to say. I simply stand there, numb and blinking like an idiot as my father thumps me solidly on the arm.
“So how long, do you think?” he asks, a twinkle in his eyes. “How long before you two give me my first grandson?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A grandkid.
A grandson, in particular, someone to carry on the Knight name, the Knight cooper legacy, and to make my father’s dreams—the ones I killed years ago—come true.
That’s why my father is so happy. That’s why he hugged me for the first time in years and smiled at me the way he used to before I committed the unforgivable sin of choosing to live my life my way.
It’s enough to make me ill. Physically ill. My flank steak turns to lead in my stomach, acid pushes up my throat, and for a second I’m worried I’ll have to make a run for the bushes on the other side of the tree.
But I’ve spent my entire adult life learning not to care what my father wants or how much I’ve disappointed him. So I swallow the wave of sickness and return the shoulder thump, smothering the spark of caring before it can become a flame. I will set him straight, get back to Cat ASAP, and forget that for a moment I thought Jim and I might be on the road to being close again.
I have no fucks left to give Jim; I haven’t for years.
“Julie and I want you to have it at the winery,” he says, a happy shine in his eyes that I note distantly. Dispassionately.
So what if my dad looks like he’s about to cry from happiness overload. That’s on him. That’s the price he pays for sinking all his fucks into continuing our three-hundred-year-old family business.
“But if Cat has her heart set on somewhere else, that’s fine, too,” he continues. “I’ll cover the cost, either way.”
“That’s nice of you Dad,” I say coolly, slipping my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Very generous.”
He rolls his shoulders, shrugging off my gratitude. “I know the bride’s family usually pays, but it doesn’t sound like she has any.” He glances back toward the lamp lit table, his gaze softening. “And I don’t see that it matters. She’ll be our family soon enough.”
The words slip past my defenses, sending a sharp stab of hurt flaring behind my ribs. “You really like her, don’t you?”
Jim’s lips push forward, and his brows pull closer together. His thinking face. “Catherine?”
“No, the other woman you think I should marry.”
His eyes narrow, and the thinking face becomes his “Don’t fuck with me” face. “So you two haven’t talked about what comes next?”
“No, Dad,” I say, “we haven’t. I don’t even know if she wants kids, let alone if she—”
“Then you should find out,” Jim says, frustration creeping into his tone. “You’re not getting any younger, Aidan. By the time I was your age I’d been married for six years and had a two year old. If you’re not careful, you’re going to fuck around and waste your entire life.”
“So my life is a waste?” It’s a purely rhetorical question. I know exactly what my father thinks of my life choices so far. “I decided not to spend a few decades bending wood into barrels, so therefore my entire life is a waste?”
“That’s not what I said. This isn’t about the work; it’s about a lack of respect for things that matter. Things like tradition and family and—”
“Family didn’t seem to matter to you when I came back from Japan. You put ‘return to sender’ on my Christmas card for fuck’s sake, Dad,” I say, fighting to keep my tone calm and even. “If Julie hadn’t gotten cancer, you would have been happy to pretend you’d never even had a son.”
“You cut me out of your life first.” He meets my glare with his own. “You ran off to Japan without telling anyone where you were going. For three days after we got home from your graduation ceremony, I had no idea where you were. Did you ever stop to think Julie and your mother and I might have been scared for you?”
“I sent an email as soon as I could, but I—”
“I cried, you bastard,” he says, cutting me off before I can apologize for the sins of my twenty-two-year-old self. “I thought you’d gotten drunk and driven your car into a lake, or gotten into a fight and ended up buried in some monster’s back yard.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say, anger and shame making my throat tight. “I never meant to upset you. It was just the only way I knew how to leave.”
“Bullshit,” he barks softly, obviously trying to keep our argument from the rest of the party. Judging by the laughter drifting through the night air, everyone else is still having a great time. “You were raised better. You can find fault with me all you want, but your mother and Julie taught you some goddamned manners.”
“They did.” I clench my jaw and press my tongue tight to the back of my teeth, ordering my mouth to stay closed. But the damn thing isn’t in the mood to take orders. “But you taught me to be terrified of letting you down, and when I was on my way to Japan that lesson was the only one that mattered. I knew if I told you what I was doing, there was a chance you would be able to talk me out of it, and then I would have hated you. And I didn’t want to hate you, Dad.”
I swallow and it feels like I’m forcing a human fist down my throat instead of my own spit. God, I just want to shut up—to shut up and walk away before this gets any worse.
Instead, I say, “I still don’t want to hate you. And I don’t want you to hate me. Or decide to hug me for the first time in I can’t remember how long because you like my date and think she’d be a good breeding mare for a couple of grandkids.”
“Catherine is a lovely young woman. I would never—”
“And even if I wanted to marry Cat,” I cut in, “which is honestly nowhere on my fucking radar right now, I—”
“Why not?”
“I barely fucking know her!” I shout. “We weren’t officially dating until yesterday, and before Monday I hadn’t seen the woman in eleven years. Eleven fucking years, and back when I used to know her, she was a lunatic half the time.”
“Stop it, Aidan,” Dad snaps, mouth going tight around the edges. “There’s no need to insult Cat because you’re angry with me.”
“I watched her pick up a rattlesnake with her bare hands, Dad,” I barrel on. “Twice! And I spent hours keeping her from doing shit that would land her in the dean’s office or worse. I just want to get to know her again, see if she’s the kind of crazy I can deal with, and see if we work. Marrying her and squeezing out a kid for you to saddle with your impossible expectations is the last thing on my mind.”
My father doesn’t respond or meet my gaze. His eyes are fixed on something in the shadows over my shoulder. Even before he speaks, I know what—or rather, who—it is.
I smell Cat’s sweet, spicy, mysterious smell a second too late.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” my father says to her, his eyes soft and sad. “It’s my fault. At my age I should know better than to assume things. Especially where my son is concerned.”
I curse beneath my breath as I turn, gut twisting as I see Cat standing in the dim light at the edge of the lanterns’ reach, watching me with an unreadable expression. Unreadable because she doesn’t want me to read it, because she’s shut the door to herself and left me on the other side.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding my hands out, palms up. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s no big deal,” she says, her gaze shifting to my dad. “And don’t apologize, Jim. It’s nice to hear what people are really thinking. I was pretty crazy back when Aidan and I knew each other before. I was a teenager most of that time, but still�
��”
My breath rushes out. “Please, Cat, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Dad retreats, rejoining the rest of the party, leaving me alone with the mess I’ve made.
I prop my hands on my hips and hang my head, waiting for my old man to be out of earshot, wishing I could rewind time and never stand up from the supper table. I was so angry I can barely remember what I said, but I know it was shitty and untrue and hurtful to the one person I never want to hurt.
And as I stand there, starting to sweat because I don’t know how to make this better, I realize that forever with Cat is on my radar. I haven’t thought about marriage—mostly because I’ve assumed for years that I would never get married—but I have thought about what it would be like to wake up next to her every morning. To make love to her every night. To know I’m never going to run out of reasons to laugh because the person who makes me happiest has agreed to share her life with me.
To share herself with me.
Last night she trusted me enough to let me in, all the way in, and I rewarded her by running my mouth like an asshole. And now that mouth, the one that was so eager to spew stupid shit out into the world a few minutes ago, can’t think of a single thing to say.
“I got a call from Detective Lipman,” Cat says, her voice soft in the strained silence. “But the reception was bad and the call got cut off. I got up to see if the signal was better over here on the hill. I wasn’t trying to spy on you.”
“I know you weren’t.” I run a hand through my hair. “You should call him. This can wait.”
She holds up her phone, wiggling it back and forth. “No reception at all up here. I’ll call him when I get back to the cottage. I think everyone is almost done with dessert.”
Again, I wish I’d stayed at the table. If I had, I’d be having a second helping of strawberry shortcake instead of trying to weather the first rough patch in my barely day old relationship. “I really am sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean any of the shit I said. I was hurt and talking out of my ass.”
“Why were you hurt?” She crosses her arms, wandering closer, but not too close. She stops when there are still several feet between us, proving everything is not okay.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just forgot not to give a fuck what my dad thinks for a few minutes. But I’m better now and I’m…” I clear my throat, looking for something more meaningful to offer than another lame apology, but coming up empty. “Fuck, I’m just sorry.”
“Are you?” she asks, crossing her arms tighter.
“Sorry? Yes, I am. I swear I am.”
“No, not sorry.” Her eyes close for a second before squinting open again. “I meant, are you better? Is it really better not to care what your dad thinks? I mean, he is your dad.”
“Yes, it’s definitely better not to care.” I tamp down a flash of irritation. Cat has no idea how bad things were with Jim and I at one point. I deliberately gave her the glossy version so she wouldn’t think I was crazy for bringing her up here. “Caring about Jim Knight only leads to getting angry and saying stupid shit. He’s never going to change his mind, and I’m never going to change mine. It would be stupid to invest any more time, energy, or caring into that man. He made his choice about what matters to him a long time ago, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”
“That’s not true,” Cat says. “Your father absolutely cares about you. You should see the way he looks at you when you aren’t paying attention, Aidan. He loves you so much.”
I tilt my head toward my shoulder, but my neck muscles remain whip tight. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Well, I do,” she says. “I think it’s past time for you to stop pushing your father away and give him a real second chance.”
“What the hell,” I say with a strained laugh. “You two bonded pretty fucking quick, didn’t you? You realize people usually don’t like Jim, right? He’s not a warm and fuzzy, friends-at-first-sight kind of person.”
“Yeah, well neither am I,” she says in a harder voice. “But you still brought me home and consented to fuck me half a dozen times between last night and this evening. Even though I’m a lunatic you only started dating yesterday.”
“Come on, Cat. I told you, I didn’t mean any of that.” I reach for her, but she steps away, a stiffness through her shoulders that makes it clear my touch isn’t welcome.
I interlace my hands behind my head and press my skull back into the basket of my fingers, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms, haul her back to our cottage, and make her come until she forgets all the stupid shit I said. “Please, Red. Can’t we just forget the last ten minutes ever happened?”
“Sure thing.” She smiles, a brittle curve of her lips that makes me feel even shittier than I did a second ago. “I’ve had three glasses of wine, so I’m sure most of tonight will be blurry by tomorrow. But I do need to return the detective’s phone call.” She backs away, jabbing a thumb toward the party still in progress. “Tell everyone good night for me? I think I’ll head to bed after I make my call. I’m not used to drinking wine two nights in a row.”
“Let me walk you down.” I start toward her, but she stops me with a shake of her head.
“No, Aidan.” She runs a hand through her hair, wrapping the silky strands tight around her fist. “I said things will be blurry by tomorrow, but right now I remember every word you said. And I don’t really want to walk anywhere with you.”
My eyes squeeze closed as a wave of regret punches me in the gut and the throat and a few places in between. “Fuck, Cat, I’m sorry.” I open my eyes, searching hers. “How many times do you want me to say it? I’ll say it a hundred times if that’s what you need me to do. Because it’s true. It’s the only true thing I’ve said in the past—”
“Seriously, Aidan,” she says, cutting in with a wave of her hand. “We’re fine. I just want to be alone for a while. I don’t need any more sorrys.”
“Then I’ll keep my sorry to myself,” I say, my feeble attempt at a joke falling flat. “Just let me walk with you so I know that you’re safe.”
“I’m safe. I’m sure that’s what Lipman is calling to tell me. Besides, there hasn’t been a car down the road for hours.” She takes another step back, casting her features into almost full darkness. I have no idea what expression is on her face when she says, “All the other visitors are sleeping tight, and soon I will be, too. I’ll see you in the morning. You’re in charge of coffee this time. No apron, though. I don’t think that apron would even come close to covering the subject in your case.”
“All right.” I smile, but it tastes sad on my lips. “I’ll take the bottom bunk tonight? Give you the top?”
I wait for her response, praying that she’ll say I should join her on the top bunk and prepare to properly atone for my sins. But instead, she says, “That sounds good. Good night, Aidan.”
“Good night.” It’s just good night, but as she turns and starts down the path leading between the vines, heading toward the lights of the cottages, it feels like good-bye.
I ball my hands into fists at my sides and watch her go, hating that I’ve fucked things up. Why couldn’t Jim have kept his plans to turn my future kid into his barrel-making slave to himself—at least for another week or two? By then I would have been back in the city, and I would never have answered a phone call from my dad with Cat in the room. Because I fucking know better. When my guard is up, I know not to leave any cracks in my defenses for crap that makes me feel like shit to crawl inside.
But then there are no cracks for the other things, either. For the good shit. For hope and happiness and all the things she makes you feel.
Can it really work this way?
Can you shut out the bad without shutting out the good, too?
I don’t know. But I know I have to make things better with Red. I’m not even close to being done with her, with us, with whatever we’re going to be to each other.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I whisp
er to her retreating shadow, silently sending another apology her way before rejoining the party
Back at the table, I make Cat’s excuses to Julie, ignore my father, and promise the adorable couple who brought dessert to take the extra strawberry shortcake back to the cottage so Cat can have some in the morning. I help finish off a bottle of blush wine Julie opened to pair with the strawberries and then take charge of gathering all the recyclables into the wheelbarrow and the compost into an empty salad bowl to be added to the pile in the back yard.
I force myself to go through the usual “post dinner party” motions, ignoring Julie’s probing stares and my father’s artic shoulder, reminding myself that this could be worse.
Cat’s hurt and disappointed, but she’s safe and sound and will be sleeping in the bunk above mine tonight, close enough for me to hear her breathe and for my silent “forgive me” vibes to hopefully penetrate her outer layer of defenses. Really, in the scheme of things, she’s being pretty damned cool about this.
Pretty damned cool…
“Shit,” I curse, pressing the salad bowl in Julie’s hands.
“What?” She blinks up at me in the glare of the motion-activated floodlight by the barn. “What’s wrong?”
“Cat’s never this cool when she’s mad,” I say, breaking into a run.
“What?” Julie calls after me. “Aidan, what’s wrong? Did you and Jim have another fight? I told him not to say anything about weddings yet, but he never listens to me.”
“I’ll explain later,” I throw over my shoulder, knowing there’s no time to waste.
Cat and I are both older, wiser, and generally more sane and rational than when we were in college. We’ve grown up, settled fully into our adult skins, and learned our lessons from the mistakes we made in the past. Hell, after eleven years we’re practically different people.
Except that we aren’t. Not really.
My dad still gets under my fucking skin like nothing else, and I’m betting money Red still only plays it cool when she’s truly devastated.
I run faster, hoping I’m wrong, but when I get to the cottage, I’m not surprised to find no sign of Cat. I check the main house and the barn and then do another check of the cottage and the back seat of Shane’s Rolls just in case, but Cat’s nowhere to be found. She’s vanished, like an animal slinking away to lick its wounds, the way she always has.
