Page 94 of Dreamboat

“She loves you, Victor.” I scan one of the walls of his office and all of the framed awards and certificates of recognition.

“How do you know that?” His voice is firm and etched with the pain that I often hear in mine when I talk to my mom.

My gaze stalls when I spot a silver frame just to the left of his display of accomplishments. “You love her, too.”

He glances in the same direction I’m looking. “That’s Mom when she was pregnant with us. She was only a few weeks along but look at the glow on her face.”

I stand and approach the frame. I pluck it off the wall and study the image. It was taken so long ago, but the color is still vibrant. Our mom is sitting on a log on a beach somewhere. Her legs are tanned. Her hair is shorter than I ever remember it being.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was the only picture Dad had of her.” He leans back to look toward the ceiling. “Before I cut ties with him, I stole it out of an album he had.”

I want to laugh at his admission that he stole something, but I’m stuck on another part of what he said. “You cut ties with Dad?”

He pushes to stand. “Two, maybe three years ago, now. I ran into an old neighbor of ours from when we were kids. She had a lot to tell me.”

“What neighbor?”

“One of the ones he was screwing behind Mom’s back.” He winces. “From what she said, there were a few of them.”

That’s information my mother doesn’t need to know. The pain of my dad’s betrayal haunted her for years, and even though she’s moved on with Barry, I don’t want to drag up her past for fear it will impact her future.

“Where did you run into this old neighbor?” I question, though it doesn’t matter.

“The Upper East Side.” He clears his throat. “Maybe a block and half from your townhouse.”

I almost drop the frame in my hands. “What? You were there two or three years ago? You know where I live?”

“Yeah to both,” he admits. “I’ve been there a few times since.”

“You’ve been to New York a few times in the past few years?”

“More than a few times in the past few years and at least three times in the past few months,” he admits as he steps closer. “I made it as far as the door of Premier Pet Care before I turned around and walked away.”

I close the distance between us with heavy steps. The picture of our mother is still clutched in my hands. “Victor.”

“What the fuck was I going to say to you?” He shakes his head. “Or to Mom. I broke her heart, Donovan. I destroyed it.”

“She loves you,” I reiterate. “She’d give anything to see you.”

Again, his hand heads to his hair just as mine makes a path to mine. We laugh in unison.

“You need to see her,” I insist. “And you need to meet Delia.”

“Delia?” His dark brows pinch together. “Who is Delia?”

“The woman I love.” I smile. “The incredible woman I love.”

He softly punches my shoulder. “You’re in love?”

“I’m going to be a dad, too.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He launches himself at me, taking me in for a hug I’ve waited decades for. “You’re going to have a family, Donovan.”

I step back to pat his cheek the way I always did when we were kids and sharing a tender moment. “I already do. I have Mom, and now I have you, too.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

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