Page 83 of Perfect Imperfections

She let out a watery laugh. “Sorry.”

Releasing Charlotte, she stood, glancing once more toward the kitchen. She couldn’t see anything but the suffering coming from the room hung in the air around her like a suffocating blanket of agony. She headed to the front door, realizing for the first time since they’d started seeing each other, Sullivan hadn’t walked her out to her car at night.

Get over it. He has a lot on his plate right now. He can’t be concerned with you and your selfish feelings. The man just suffered a loss and all you can think about is yourself. No wonder he doesn’t want you around. This is probably all your fault, anyway. This is why no one loves you and no one ever will. You ruin everything.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the dark voice whispering ugly lies in her head. But as she got into her car and drove toward her apartment, she wondered if the voice was right this time? People often said life was a rollercoaster full of ups and downs. What if she’d given Sullivan such an up that life had to crash him down?

It sounded ridiculous, even as she thought it, but that didn’t stop the insidious idea from working its way into her head. Maybe she’d call Dr. Mitchell in the morning and get her opinion. Whatever was going on in her head didn’t matter now. The dark voice and thoughts couldn’t hold a candle to the pain encircling her heart, shooting out to every inch of her body, reminding her that once again she’d been found lacking by the one she loved.

CHAPTER 29

He hurt her.

He didn’t have to look in her eyes to know. Sullivan heard the pain in her voice when he told her to go. Felt the small cracking of her voice pierce his heart like an ice pick. His dismissal had hurt her, but fuck, he was hurting too. His daughter was about to hurt. One of the worst betrayals he could imagine had been thrust upon him along with a loss he hadn’t imagined he would feel this deeply.

It’d been years since he loved Claire. Years since he wondered where she was and if she was ever coming back. He didn’t have any romantic feelings for his ex-wife, but that didn’t mean he had zero feelings for the deceased woman. She had been the mother of his child, someone he thought he would spend forever with. Stood to reason he’d have an emotional response to her death. He’d never imagined it would be anger, but he was angry. Fucking furious.

“Why, Claire?” He whispered into the empty room, knowing he wouldn’t get a response. She was dead and dead people didn’t speak, no matter how much you might wish they would. “Why didn’t you come back to see her? Why didn’t you love her?”

He wasn’t upset for himself. The anger burning in his gut called him a liar. Okay, maybe he was a little upset. After years together, the woman up and left without a word. It had taken him a while to get over the loss, the abandonment. He never got a chance to ask her why, to get closure. Up until this moment, he hadn’t even been fully aware it was something he still held onto. The hope that he could look Claire in the eyes one day and ask her how she could to this to him, to them. Now he’d never have the chance.

Their relationship had been over a long time ago. He’d just have to accept he’d never get the answers to his questions. Once again, life had taken someone from him in the blink of an eye. No chance for goodbyes. Anger and despair rose within, a raging tornado in his chest threatening to obliterate everything. The majority of the swirling pit of resentment and agony in his chest was reserved for his daughter, the sweet, wonderful child who had done nothing, absolutely nothing, to deserve her mother’s abandonment.

Over the years, he’d explained to Charlotte that her mommy had been sick and needed to go away to get better. How did he look his daughter, the light of his life, in the eye and explain that mommy got better, but still didn’t want to see her?

He couldn’t. Even if it were true, he could never tell Charlotte that. Never let her know her mother didn’t care. Whatever Claire’s reasons were for staying away, even after she received treatment, he would never give his daughter any reason to think her mother hadn’t wanted and loved her as much as he did.

Fuck, how the hell was he going to do this?

He had no idea, but he damn sure would figure it out. Charlotte needed her parent—her only parent now—to be strong and help her through this.

“Charlotte,” he coughed, his voice rough with emotion. No time for any of that now. He had to lock it up. For his daughter. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Charlotte, can you come in here, please?”

He heard the movie pausing and tiny feet shuffling across the hardwood floors. In mere moments his daughter came into view, light blonde hair flying back with her hurried shuffle—because she knew she wasn’t allowed to run in the house but liked to push her limits.

“Are you okay, Daddy?”

Her worried little eyes darted around the kitchen, falling on the scattered and broken dishes. Shit! He should have picked up before he called her in. She didn’t need to see the aftereffects of her father losing control. He had to be better than this. He had to keep it together.

“I’m fine. I just had a little accident.”

“Accidents are okay. I spilled the glue at school, but I told the teacher and said sorry even though it wasn’t by purpose.”

“On purpose, Angel. It wasn’t on purpose.”

Why the hell was he correcting her grammar at a time like this? Dammit, he was screwing everything up already.

“Sit down at the table, Charlotte. I have something very important to talk to you about.”

Going to the freezer, he grabbed the chocolate ice cream, putting three heaping scoops into two bowls and heading to where Charlotte sat at the kitchen table. Cowardly of him to offer his child the distraction of sugar? Maybe, but all he could see in his mind right now was Claire sitting in that hospital bed right after she had Charlotte. Holding the sweet bundle to her chest, her eyes wide with all the emotions he’d been feeling in that moment: love, wonder, fear. She had loved Charlotte. She’d loved him. What happened to that? What happened to them?

Shaking off the questions he knew would never be answered, he focused on his daughter as she was now. A sweet, kind, happy child who had never known her mother and now never would.

He slid one of the bowls over to her. Never one to refuse sugar in any form, his daughter dug into the cold, creamy treat with glee.

“Yay, ice cream!”

“So, Angel, I want to talk to you about…mommy.”

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