Page 5 of When Love And Destiny Collide

"I love you, Daddy," Davey murmurs, clutching the covers and turning over in bed.

"I love you too, Son," I whisper, my heart swelling with love as I watch him drift back to sleep. How a mother could walk away from her four-year-old son is something I will never comprehend, let alone reconcile.

I panic when I hear the phone ring, realizing I left it downstairs. I sprint down the steps to catch it in time, but when I pick it up, the name on the screen makes my blood run cold. "Speak of the devil," I mutter as "Marian" flashes before my eyes.

After everything she’s put us through, a touch of passive aggression seems more than appropriate. So, I let the phone ring endlessly, savoring the sweetness of each unanswered chime before finally picking it up.

"Hello," I answer, my voice as flat as a steel plate.

"Hi, love," she replies, her British accent as thick as ever.

"Yeah," I say, firm on my commitment to terse, single-word responses.

"How was your trip?"

"Fine," I manage, feeling a small victory in my minimalism.

"Has David gone to bed yet?"

"Yes."

"You two must be exhausted. Did I wake you?"

I glance at the clock—it’s almost eight.

"No."

"All right then. I’ll call David in the morning. Would ten be okay?"

"Yes."

"Good night, Noah."

"Night."

As I hang up, triumph and petty satisfaction wash over me. It's not exactly a noble feeling, but it’s honest. Tomorrow, I promise myself, I’ll be better. I’ll answer the phone on the first ring, and maybe, just maybe, my responses will stretch to two or three words. Tonight, though, I’m not ready to let go of the grudge that leaves me feeling empty.

I start up the stairs, but a sudden knock on the back door freezes me in place. Who could it be at this hour, and why the back door? My mind races—maybe Patrick heard about my return. I head to the kitchen, peering through the curtain but seeing nothing.

I open the door, ready to greet Patrick, only to find myself staring into the sapphire eyes I haven’t been able to shake from my thoughts all day.

It's her.

Chapter 2

Lily

My mind struggles to process what my eyes see. It’s him. I wasn't prepared to see him ever again and the recognition hits me like a punch, leaving me breathless and disoriented. The air seems to vanish, leaving me with a crushing sense of disbelief.

“What are you doing here?” he demands, his voice laden with accusation.

“I live here,” I reply, my tone defensive and tight.

“No,” he retorts, “I live here.”

“I live in the guesthouse,” I clarify. “Noah Linder owns this house.”

The smirk on his face says it all. HeisNoah Linder. My world has just taken a very, very wrong turn.

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