Chapter 212
The last time I saw my mother, she smelled like gin at ten in the morning. She had sunglasses on inside the house and wouldn’t meet my eyes when I came home to pack the rest of my stuff, shortly after my father and brother were sentenced–fifteen and ten years respectively.
And now here she is, standing outside a Paris hospital with the November wind lifting the ends of her dark hair, streaked liberally with
silver.
There’s a scarf knotted at her neck, a wool coat that looks a little too big for her frame, and hands twisting together like she can’t figure out what to do with them. The picture is so un-*Marisol Ashford.
For a moment, my feet don’t work.
She gives me a tentative smile. “Hi, Nathan.”
I swallow. “Mom,” I repeat. That seems like the only thing I can say.
“Uhm…” She clears her throat. “It was supposed to be a surprise, for Thanksgiving. “But then…” Her eyes dart toward the hospital and then back to me. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me like this, but Peter told me to give it a try.”
My first instinct is to ask why now? Why today, when my life is the most perfect it’s ever been? Why after years of silence?
And not just after the monsters in my life were locked in cages.
She was never there when he bruised and broke me. Not in the way that mattered.
She must see the questions on my face, because her expression trembles.
“I’m almost two years sober.” Her voice cracks just enough to thaw the ice wall that automatically shoots up around my mother.
“I wanted to tell you sooner, but-” She shakes her head. “Nathan, I didn’t know if I had the right. I wasn’t a good mother to you. I let things happen to you that…”
She looks away, blinking hard. “Things a mother should never let happen. And I can’t change any of it. But I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
The ice thaws with alarming ferocity and is quickly replaced by a heat that burns hotter than an open flame.
The night terrors stopped; I freed myself from the horrors of my past.
But those memories still cut through my mind like jagged glass–Samuel’s voice, dripping with disdain and hate, his fists, her absence even when she was in the room.
I’ve never once visited Samuel or Lucas, but I rehearsed a thousand speeches in my head, some full of rage, some full of grief. But now…
Now I have a newborn daughter upstairs. Now I’m married to a woman who’s taught me more about love than anyone else ever has.
Now my life is something I never thought it could be. And as painful and awful as it all was, if I had never been born an Ashford, I would have never met my April.
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21:36 Mon, Oct 27
Chapter 212
I take one step toward my mother. Then another.
Her eyes widen, brimming with tears, and when I reach her, I wrap my arms around her. She stiffens for half a second before clinging to
me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“I’m not angry anymore,” I murmur into her hair. “It’s done. It’s over.”
“Oh, my baby,” she sniffs.
I kiss her temple tenderly. “Would you like to meet your granddaughter?”
She nods against my shoulder, her breath hitching. “I’d love to.”
A lump rises in my throat. “Come on.”
When I walk her back into the room, the lively conversation dips. April glances up from where she’s cradling Camille, her eyes flicking to me, then to the woman at my side.
“Marisol,” April says softly.
There’s no accusation in her gaze, just understanding. April has every reason to hate her. She knows exactly what kind of childhood I had, what my mother didn’t stop. She wasn’t exactly kind to April, either.
But a ghost of a smile stretches her lips, and she nods toward the bed. “Come meet your granddaughter.”
Chapter Comments
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Visitor
7 days ago
I loved this story!
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
