Chapter Nineteen

“Iwish I didn’t have to do this,” I say with my phone pressed to my ear. I hate being away from Aiden the literal day after I married him, but my father’s company waits for no one. So much for a honeymoon, but cutting it short was necessary. I landed in Chicago an hour ago without Aiden by my side. There was no way he could get out of practice with one more game to go until the Dragons bring the cup home.

“I want to be there with you. I should have come,” he says, practically growling.

“You can’t. You owe it to your team to pull through for them,” I remind him. “Practice is vital right now.”

“I owe you more than anyone, Birdie.” His tone says it all. We’re married, but it’s going to take him some time to forgive himself for everything that happened in our past.

“You don’t. I want you to train, be ready, and win that cup. I’ll be home in time for the game, I promise. And after I get back, we can begin our lives together in earnest.” I sigh, ready to be back in his arms. “Besides, this is a good time for you to catch up with your mom.”

“I suppose you’re right, love. She’s already looking at houses and deciding how many grandchildren we’ll give her.”

I chuckle at the thought of Mrs. Doyle running around Denver on the hunt for a house with a mother-in-law suite. It wasn’t nearly as hard to convince her to come back to the States as I had thought it would be. All I had to do was remind her that she would be the only grandparent our kids would ever know. She melted into a puddle of gooey grandma and started planning.

“We’ll get right on that when I get back. See you soon. I love you,” I whisper.

“Love you, Birdie.” He hangs up and my heart cries out for him, always connected to him even after all we’ve been through.

“Ready?” April asks. She and Ivan flew to Chicago with me, ready to fight through any issues that might arise. All I want are my mother’s things, and my uncle can have everything else. Ivan had also been right. It all worked out even though I’m still not sure how I feel about my father’s death. He’d been cremated immediately per his orders—no viewing, no funeral, nothing. Merely a prompt end to a miserable life.

“Yeah, I think so.” I grab my bag and we head to the lawyer’s office.

Ten minutes into the meeting and it’s almost over except for one small problem—Stephen. He is locked in a battle of wills with my uncle, but all I want is to leave, get my things, and go back home. The Bennett men are nothing if not cunning, but Stephen has my uncle on the edge of his seat, ready to murder the man. I don’t blame Uncle Bradford in this regard, and truthfully, if he did wrap his hands around Stephen’s neck, I wouldn’t say anything about it.

“It was promised to me,” Stephen argues. “I have the contract here.”

“She married another man. It clearly states in the will that it will go to her husband,” my uncle says. “And since her husband has declined the inheritance, it goes to me, as is also clearly stated in the will.”

I rub my eyes, willing my head to stop aching.

Ivan chuckles beside me, amused by the incessant chest pounding and empty threats tossed about between Stephen and my uncle. April checks her nails and slinks deeper into her seat.

And my annoyance grows into a beast I can no longer contain. I need Stephen to disappear, and I think I know how to do it.

Finally, I stand. “You know what, I think I want to reconsider.”

Both heads swivel towards me. Stephen’s jaw falls open and my uncle purses his lips. “Far be it from me to insinuate that you are out of your depth, Finchley, but this company requires—”

“Can it, Uncle Bradford. I don’t want the company but I’d be willing to sell it to you. Since Aiden is my husband, that means I am legally entitled to a say as well, right?” I look over my shoulder to Ivan who nods. “Very well then. How much are you willing to pay me for the entire thing? The company, the mansions, the stables, everything?”

“What do you want?” Stephen asks.

“What do you mean, what do I want?”

He steps forward as if to intimidate me into caving and allowing this charade to continue, but I’m done letting him dictate my life. I’m done letting him kick me around. He reaches for my hand, but I yank it away.

“If you touch me, I’ll bury you,” I say. “I have the means to do it now, and I will.”

“One hundred million. Cash. Final offer,” Uncle Bradford says. Stephen’s mouth falls open again and his head jerks back and forth between us.

I take a deep breath and give him my attention. “That kind of money makes people miserable. One hundred million donated to a charity of my choice and all I want is access to my father’s main house and anything in it I decide to keep.’”

“Deal. Sign here,” Uncle Bradford offers me a stack of papers. Ivan looks them over and agrees it is binding, so I sign. Stephen is escorted from the room by security and my uncle grins like a fox who just raided the coop and got away with it. I can’t stand to look at him any longer.

“Ivan will send you the information about the charity,” I say. He nods and drools over his contract. I have no doubt he will bankrupt this company just as fast as he did the last three he owned, but it’s of no concern to me. All I’m worried about now is getting my mother’s things and heading home to see my husband win a hockey game.

An hour later, I’m in my father’s house but it doesn’t feel like a home. It never did. I pass my old bedroom, not caring one bit about the cobwebs inside. Passing additional rooms of no value, I finally reach the one I was never allowed to enter. The door is locked, so I throw my entire body against the old, wooden door and it pops open.

April and Ivan wait in the car for me, but I need time. This was my mother’s private dance studio, and it’s the first time I have seen it in my entire life.

I tread slowly over the padded floor and run my finger along the balance rail bolted to the wall. It’s dusty and the mirrored wall is smudged with the same grime. Cobwebs cover much of the space, but it still feels like a special place. From what everyone said, my mother was a saint, but how she could have been such a thing and married to my father remains a mystery. He loved her, though, perhaps too much since he couldn’t let her go. Trying to force me into her mold had been an impossible task for him. Even now, I can’t cry. I don’t miss him. I can’t feel anything but relief that he’s gone, but the framed pictures on the wall tell another story about my father.

He”s smiling in them. Every single one shows a happy man with a spark of life in his eyes. It doesn’t even look like him, not the man I knew. Then my eyes fall on my mother. I knew I looked a lot like her, but the resemblance is almost uncanny in this picture. Her wedding picture. Father is beaming, but a few short years later a permanent scowl would take the place of that smile. And I would be reminded every day of my life that I killed his wife.

I swallow the lump in my throat, desperate to know what it might have been like if she had survived. I will be better. My children will know how much I love them. Not a day will pass that they doubt my commitment to them and their father, and it’s in this moment that I realize I don’t want anything.

I had thought I wanted my mother’s ballet slippers, but they will only remind me of what I could never be. I wanted pictures of her, but they are all tarnished by him.

No. I want nothing.

I don’t need anything, because all I have ever needed is missing me from Denver, praying for me to make it through this ordeal so I can come back home to him safe and sound. I don’t need these mementos from my past, because my future is where my heart is.

Without looking further, I exit the room, close the door, and release my hold on the past.

In the car, April’s eyes narrow. “Couldn’t find them?”

I shake my head. “I found them. I decided I don’t want them. Let’s go home.”

Ivan says nothing but nods. He’s seen a lot in his life, no doubt has heard stories worse than mine, but his support through this has meant a lot to me. He doesn’t even know me, yet he hopped on a plane to help me without question.

“You know,” April says with a sigh, her gaze drifting out the window. “I think I might move to Denver. There’s nothing here worth my time anymore.”

“Really? I think Aiden’s old place will be available,” I say, adding, “And there are a few single guys left on the team.”

She chuckles at this but swipes a tear from her cheek. “Yeah. I think I want to be with the only family who actually cares about me. What do you think?”

I squeeze her knee. “I think it’s a fantastic idea.”