Page 123 of Reckless King

I throw my hands up in the air. “Because I didn’t know who I was anymore. They were the legitimate sons. The wanted sons. The true heirs to the King name. And who was I? I had no clue because I had no clue where I came from—who my real father was. And now that he’s dead, I’ll never get a chance to find out all the things I was desperate to know.”

Mom’s face blanches. “He’s dead?”

I pause, studying her expression. “You didn’t know?”

She shakes her head mutely, her lips pressing together for a moment before she takes another sip of her tea. When she sets it down again, the cup rattles against the saucer. Then she inhales deeply, composing herself. “No, I didn’t know. After he left, I never saw him again. I did my best to… to forget.”

“Forget?” The word is bitter in my mouth. “How convenient for you. But what about me? What about the son he left behind?”

The icy composure she’s hidden behind for as long as I can remember falters, revealing a hint of emotion. “I concealed the truth to protect you.”

“To protectme?” I scoff, leaning forward. “You mean to protect yourself. Your image. The family name.”

She keeps her chin high as she regards me, though there’s a shadow of something that might be vulnerability in her eyes. “Yes, those things too. I defied your father when it came to you. I didn’t know what it would mean for me.”

“Why did you bother? You’ve never given any indication you care about me. Or my brothers.”

What looks suspiciously like pain flashes across her face. “I was twenty-one when I was married off to your father. Twenty-two when I had Roman. I was scared, but I hoped… Ihadhoped that I would be a good mother, different from my own.” She focuses on the table in front of her, brushing a hand over the spotless tablecloth. “But after he was born, I didn’t know what to do with him, how to hold him, to soothe him when he cried or make him happy. My maternal instincts were… not what I wanted them to be. I realized then that I was just like my mother after all. Watching my baby smile and laugh when the nanny held him only solidified what I already knew. I was never made to be a mother.”

I’ve never seen this side of her before, the human side. It’s hard to know what to make of it. I don’t comment, hoping she’ll continue. Give me insight into my own childhood.

“But your father wanted another son. He was… persistent. Five years later, Cole was born. And once again, it became clear that I wasn’t the motherly type. I thought I was done then. Your father had what he wanted. But when I found out I was pregnantwith you, Ted was… very unhappy. It was only then I realized I did have some modicum of motherly instinct after all.”

“You kept me,” I state.

She nods, expression impassive.

“Why? Why go through all that if you weren’t interested in being my parent?”

She traces the rim of her teacup, her attention fixed on the liquid within. “I couldn’t bring myself to do what your father wanted. But I still didn’t know how to be a mother, not in the way you needed. The best I could do was keep up the façade. Ensure you received the same benefits as your brothers.”

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around that, so I file it away for later.

“And my real father, did he ever know about me?” I ask. Maybe after all this time, I’m still seeking some connection to the man who was half of who I am.

She looks away. “No. He left before I found out. There didn’t seem to be much point in tracking him down.”

“So I was an unplanned consequence of a fleeting affair that meant nothing.”

“You’re more than a consequence, Tate.” Her tone is as close to gentle as I’ve ever heard it.

I stare down at my lap, my throat tight as I pick at an invisible speck on my pants. “Can you tell me about him? My father?”

“I don’t know much. Christian worked here for a few months. As a gardener, and he was…” She looks out the window. “Kind. He was kind to me. Polite, even at the start, when I wasn’t.” A faint smile tilts her lips. “And funny. He managed to make me laugh when not many things could.”

She sighs and meets my gaze, her blue eyes a shade warmer than I’m used to seeing them. “You look like him. You have the same smile, the same wit. I wish I could tell you more, butwe didn’t share many personal details. Why would we? He was passing through, and I was married.”

I nod woodenly, racking my brain for other questions I’d like answered and coming up with nothing. When I arrived, I assumed my mother wouldn’t tell me anything. Though what she’s told me isn’t much, it’s enough to loosen a screw in my chest that’s been tight for too many years.

And maybe that’s all I need.

I stand and push my fingers through my hair. “Thank you.” I turn to leave her to her tea, but her next words stop me.

“I’m sorry, Tate. I wasn’t meant to be a mother. I don’t have that kind of selflessness.” She swallows. “I wish that I did.”

For a moment, I consider that, consider her. “The time when we needed a mom is long gone. But you can still be part of our lives. A real part, if that’s what you want. No one’s asking you to start baking cookies, but you have a choice. You might not have felt as if you could love us the way a mother should love her sons back then, but nothing’s stopping you from caring for us as the men we are now. Because at the end of your life, all of this”—I gesture around at the solarium and the estate beyond—“isn’t going to matter one fucking bit. What will matter is knowing that you cared and were cared for. That your life was well lived, that your family will remember you when you’re gone. And all you need to do to have that is to show up for us.”

Her normally cool gaze is shadowed. “Distance has always been my armor. It was how I grew up, how I dealt with your father—” She winces. “I mean Ted. It’s the only way I knew how to make it through.”

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