I’d always heard that when you go back home as an adult, everything seems smaller. But that wasn’t true in the slightest in my case—my home was just as imposing and museum-like as I remembered it being.
My hands wrapped around a drink, I waited for my mother to come down from upstairs. The drive from the city to Westchester had only taken a couple of hours, and I’d spent it wondering how this conversation was going to go.
I wasn’t even sure what I was hoping to accomplish. All I knew was that there was something in me causing me to throw the best thing in my life away, and I had to get to the bottom of what could possibly make me act this way.
“Something else I can get you, Mr. Donovan?” asked one of the members of the staff that flitted around the place.
“No, thank you,” I said, drumming my fingers on my glass. “This is fine for now.”
I was of two minds. Part of me wanted to down this drink, then another, then another, and let out whatever happened to be lurking in the deep recesses of my mind. Another part of me wanted to set aside the drink I currently had and approach my conversation stone-sober.
Before I could give the matter too much thought, I heard the familiar echo of heels clicking on the parquet floor. It was a sound from my childhood.
I swallowed, a tingle of nervous anticipation spreading outward from my stomach. Then I sensed the presence of someone in the room, someone behind me and out of sight.
“There’s my baby boy.”
I turned around in my seat and there she was—my mother.
Despite the years, she was just as larger-than-life and glamorous as I remembered her. She was dressed in a designer jumpsuit of black and gold, her silver hair in a stylish bob. She was as slim as ever—I’d always chalked her slender shape up to the fact that she was so constantly on the move that calories didn’t have a chance to stick to her.
“Mom,” I said, getting up.
She stepped over to me, martini glass in hand, and wrapped her skinny arms around me. The scent of expensive perfume was almost overpowering.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said.
“Yeah, you too,” I said, realizing I meant it. Despite being more-or-less estranged from my mother, it felt good to be back home.
She let me out of her hug and stepped back, taking in the sight of me.
“Look at you,” she said, shaking her head. “Just the most handsome thing there is.” She reached down and took my hand, giving my left ring finger a close inspection. “Not married, I see.”
“Never one to mince words,” I said.
She let my hand drop back down to my side. “It’s just surprising, is all,” she said, stepping over to the French doors that looked out over the sweeping back porch and the garden beyond. “I would’ve thought a catch like you would’ve been snatched up years ago.”
“Not that you’d know if it happened,” I said.
She glanced over her shoulder at me, her piercing blue eyes narrowed. “Staying in touch is a two-way street, you know,” she said. “Nothing’s stopping you from picking up that phone.”
She was right, and I knew it.
“You always seemed too busy with your traveling all over the world and friends and all that,” I said.
“Justin, please,” she said. “Are you really going to scold a widow for keeping busy in her golden years? Would you rather I putter around in this mansion, watching TV and waiting to die?”
Again, she was right.
“I make sure to send you and other family and friends pictures of what I’ve been up to so you’d see that I’ve been happy and healthy and having fun in the years since your father passed. And there’s been nothing stopping you from replying to any of them, or—how about this—giving me a call.
“It’s hurt that you haven’t been in touch,” she went on. “And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’ve been so distant. It’s like a part of me has been missing without you in my life, Justin.”
She waved her hand through the air, as if dismissing the subject. “But that doesn’t matter now. What’s important is that you’re here at home. But…” She tapped her French-manicured nail to her chin. “…I can’t help but wonder why. Any other mother would suspect that a child coming back after so long would only be doing so because they’ve hit rock bottom in one way or another. But not you, Justin—I’ve been keeping up on how successful you’ve been.”
“Been working hard, is all,” I said.
“No kidding,” she said, stepping away from the window and taking a seat in the high-backed, Second-Empire chair across from me. “You’ve even got a damned TV show. But don’t ask me how I liked it—TV rots your brain and reality TV turns it into mush. But that’s just one woman’s opinion.”
She took a sip from her drink, her ice-blue eyes locked onto me. Then she set it down, sat back in her chair, and folded her hands on her lap.
“But the question remains,” she said. “What is it that finally prompted little Justin to come home?”
I couldn’t think of any other way to say it. So I blurted it out.
“Was I unwanted?”
“What?”
My mother regarded me with an expression of total shock.
“What do you mean ‘unwanted’?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and went into it.
“I mean, did you and Dad plan on having me? And when you did, was I a burden?”
I shook my head and continued. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, thinking back to my childhood. And all I can remember is how you and Dad always kept me at arm’s length, how you both basically had me raised by nannies, how as soon as I turned thirteen you shipped me off to some boarding school like you couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I want to know if I was some mistake that you and Dad felt like you had to ‘deal with.’ Tell me, honestly—I’m a grown man, and I can take it.”
I took another slow breath, preparing for her to lay out the truth that yes, all of my suspicions were true.
Instead, the typically stern and icy expression Mom wore on her face melted into one of…hurt.
“Justin,” she said. “How—how could you even think that?”
Silence hung in the air.
“Of course not!” she said, her raised voice echoing through the living room. “You weren’t a burden—that’s total foolishness.”
Then she clasped her hands together.
“But you were unplanned—that much is true. Your father and I never intended to have kids. Back before we got married, we realized that us being such workaholics made us a good match but meant that we’d never have time for a family. So, we agreed that we’d be a power couple. He’d have his work, and I’d have mine. We’d build our legacy together and leave it to charity when we both passed—simple as that.”
“But then I showed up.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Back then birth control was a little less…certain than it is now, not to put too fine a point on it. You were a surprise, and at first, your father and I thought we might need to give you up—not because we didn’t love you, but because we thought it would be fairer to you to have a family that actually could give you the attention you deserved.”
“I see you changed your mind.”
“We did,” she said. “And it was the best decision of our lives. Seeing you the day you were born, holding you in my arms…it was like nothing else. At that moment, I realized how magical motherhood was.”
She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “But your father and I knew that one child was all we could manage. And we still needed to work. So, we decided that nannies could fill in the gaps. And then when you grew up, we wanted you to have the best damn education there was, so we sent you to boarding school, then private college after that.”
My mother looked me over, taking in the sight of me.
“And it wasn’t all bad, right?” she asked. “Look at you—you’re a success. You’re a damned billionaire!”
S
he shook her head. “But I guess it wasn’t enough. We never thought about what effect raising you the way we did would have. Even now, I can tell that there’s a hole in you that you have no idea how to fill.”
“There’s more,” I said. “I didn’t just out of the blue come here.”
“More?” she asked, sculpted eyebrows rising. “What is it?”
“There’s a girl…”
A small smile played on Mom’s lips.
“A girl,” she said. “Of course, there is.”
“And she’s pregnant.”
Mom’s jaw dropped.
“You mean…I’m going to be a grandmother?”
I nodded, unable to resist smiling at the happiness forming on her face.
“That’s right.”
Mom clapped her hands together, let out a shriek, and ran over. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly.
“My baby’s going to be a father!” she cried. “We have to celebrate. Go out onto the balcony and wait for me.”
With that, she left the room in a rush. I did as she asked, stepping through the French doors and walking to the edge of the balcony, taking in the incredible view of the estate. It wasn’t long before Mom came out, two glasses of champagne in her hands and a big smile on her face.
But I wasn’t feeling all that celebratory.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, handing me a glass.
“I—I’m scared,” I said. “I’m worried I’m going to screw this poor kid up and make him or her do the same thing to me that I did to you and Dad.”
“Baby,” she said. “You won’t. Parents learn as they go, and already you know how important it is that you make up for the mistakes me and your father made. Give that child love every day, make sure they know how important they are.”
She raised her glass. “I know you have it in you to be a wonderful father. And I want to be there to see it. Is…that okay?”
I nodded. I knew it would take time and work, but right then I was ready to start repairing the relationship with my mother that I’d let rot. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was ready.
“Yes,” I said. “I’d like that. And I think Heather would too.”
Mom’s eyes went wide.
“Is that the girl? Justin, I want to know all about her. But first—”
She wiggled the glass in her hand. I smiled and tapped my rim to hers before taking a sip.
“Now Heather,” she said. “She’s pretty right? What am I saying—of course she’s pretty. And I bet she’s a real sweetheart like you. Something tells me that you’ve got some gorgeous girl who loves you to death and is going to be the best mom in the world.”
And on we went.
My mom was back in my life. One thing was set straight, one wound was beginning to heal.
Now onto the other.
Chapter 29
Justin
Mom and I spent several hours together, catching up and taking the first steps in making up for the years we’d both let slip by.
Good feelings flowed through me as the day went on. It was as though I was finally setting something right that had been out of sorts, something that cried out for repair and attention.
But when the evening came on, all I could think about was how there was something else pressing to attend to.
Heather.
And my mother could tell. I let her know about what I’d done, how I’d run like a scared kid not once, but twice.
“There’s nothing to do but try to make things right,” she said over coffee out on the balcony. “Maybe she’ll take you back, maybe she won’t—that’s her call to make. But you can’t do nothing.”
She was right, and I knew it.
“What do I do?” I asked. “How can I begin to apologize?”
Mom shook her head. “Don’t overthink it, sweetie. Can you see her tonight?”
“I think so,” I said. “I mean, I know where she lives. Whether or not she wants to see me is another story.”
“Then you have to try. Get back to the city, go to her place, and let her know you’re there for her and ready to talk.” She reached over and took my coffee mug away. “Not even another sip. Go now, kiddo. Don’t waste another second!”
Energy flowed through me. My fear was replaced by determination. I stood up and readied myself as though I was about to sprint a mile.
Mom got up too, giving me another hug.
“Go, baby,” she said. “Your life is waiting for you.”
“Bye, Mom,” I said. “I love you.”
“And I love you, too,” she said with a smile. “Now get!”
I was ready. I headed back into the house, car keys in hand.
“And you too better come visit as soon as you can!” she called out after me.
“You know we will!” I said over my shoulder as I rushed through the house.
Moments later I was behind the wheel of my car and racing down the road back into the city. My heart beat hard in my chest. I was excited and terrified all at the same time.
After all, my mother was right. Heather could choose not to forgive me. She could have realized that she can’t count on men and that she’d only have herself to rely on.
It was a possibility. But I had to risk it. What other choice did I have?
Soon downtown appeared ahead, and I was so excited that I could barely think straight. The traffic in the city was intolerable as usual, but I soon arrived in Greenpoint, then at Heather’s building.
I parked and stood in front of the apartment, realizing that she could simply not be here, or just ignore me.
Still, I took out my phone and made the call.
It rang and rang and rang, and I soon started to worry that my trip was all for nothing.
Then a voice spoke on the other end—the sweetest voice I could imagine.
“Yes?”
“It’s me.”
“I know,” she said. “I can see your name on the screen.”
Ouch. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Can we talk?”
“About what?”
“About how badly I screwed up.”
There was silence on the other line—terrible, long silence.
But then the apartment buzzer sounded and the front door unlocked.
She was going to give me a chance.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and ran up the stairs. Once I reached her door, I gave it a quick knock. Seconds later, she opened it up and wordlessly walked back in.
“Hi,” I said. Not the best opener, but I had to start somewhere.
Heather, her expression skeptical, took a seat and gestured to the chair across from her. I slid into it and took a breath.
“Where’s Faye?” I asked.
“Sleeping.”
Silence and tension hung in the air.
“So,” Heather said. “You were saying how you screwed up.”
“I did,” I said. “I screwed up big time.”
She crossed her arms and said nothing more, evidently deciding to let me do all the talking.
“When we first met, I knew you were something special. Right from the start, it was obvious. You were beautiful and charming and a pleasure to be around, and as we got to know each other, I knew you were someone who I needed to make a part of my life.”
“But then you left as soon as you realized there was more to me.”
“I left. I ran like a scared kid. It was like…up until then my life was completely on my terms. And finding out that you had a kid, well, it made me realize that there was a world outside of myself, that a woman I was falling for could have dimensions to her that I didn’t know about. It shook me, and I ran.
“But I knew I’d done something wrong,” I went on. “And even more, you didn’t leave my mind. Each day after we met, I thought about you—thought about what I’d do if you were in my life again. But I figured I’d made my choice, and being tortured by the thought of you was a fitting punishment.”
My palms were sweaty, my pulse rapid. Putting my heart on the line was terrifying. I paused to let Heather speak. When she remained silent, I continued.
“Then the show happened. Looking back, it was clear as day that I wanted an excuse to bring you back into my life. Maybe if I’d been more mature, I could’ve actually been honest with you. But I wasn’t. Having you back in my life made me realize what I’d been missing. And getting to know you and Faye as we made the show…I don’t know. You made me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of.”
“Yep,” she said. “This all sounds good. But then we get to the part where you got a second chance to do the right thing, and you didn’t. I shared the most important—tied for most important, actually—piece of news in my life, and you reacted the way you did. I was expecting you to be scared, surprised. Sure. But I wasn’t expecting you to run again.”
Then her tone turned even more severe.
“Because believe me—I’m used to men running.”
I knew I had to be very careful with my next words.
“You’re right,” I said. “I was a coward again. And I know I have no right to expect you to forgive me, let alone to be a part of you and Faye and the baby’s life. But what I did has been eating me up inside. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized that everything in my life, the money, the business, everything, is nothing without someone to share it with.”
I took a deep breath and let it out.
“I love you, Heather. I love you, and I love Faye, and I know I’m going to love our baby more than anything in the world. You can throw me out on the street now, and you’d be completely justified. But if you give me one more chance, one opportunity to show you the kind of father I can be, I’ll take it and spend the rest of my life making up for even letting you think for a second that I could be any other way. And that’s all I have for you—my love, and my promise.”
A Baby, Quick! Page 16
