Page 22 of Keep This Promise
That rocks him back. His brown eyes widen and jaw falls a little slack. “You’re kidding me?”
“I’m not. I couldn’t cheat on my husband even if we weren’t married in the biblical way. Discretion was very important to Theo and me. My family were influential, and if they hadn’t believed we were truly married, they could’ve made things difficult. My mother passed away about eight months ago, which meant I probably could’ve stopped worrying about that, but it seemed wrong. Theo had no one, and I felt it was the least I could do as well.”
That wasn’t the complete reason. It was also that I didn’t ever want to be hurt again. Being with Theo was a safe choice. It meant there was no risk of loving and losing. It meant no chance of another pregnancy and no more explanations. There’d been safety in my marriage, and I’d clung to it, losing the other part of myself that longed for love.
Holden leans forward, his hand resting on mine. “I’m sure he loved you very much to be able to do what he did. To marry you to protect you from whatever wrath your family would bring and raise Eden as his own.”
At that, I let out a bark of laughter because it’s utter rubbish. “If he loved me, he would’ve given me an idea of what I was dealing with. Instead, I had to walk away as he was dying because whatever he was into risked our lives.”
I am trying very hard to forgive Theo because I can’t imagine he wanted this outcome, but there were more than enough opportunities for him to talk to me. I could’ve helped or at least been able to form my own plan.
Then there’s the fact that he knew who Eden’s father was. How long had he known? Was it days, weeks, years? I spoke to him about this so many times when she was a baby. Theo knew how I longed to know who her biological father was so I could give him the chance to be a part of her life. He knew what it was like to have her in his life, and he took that from Holden . . . and from me.
“You know he sent me letters. Well, I’m assuming it was him anyway.”
“You mentioned it, but I’m not sure I quite processed that information yesterday.”
Holden rises and walks over to a cabinet and places down three postcards and trinkets of random things. “These are what came before you did.”
“May I?”
“Of course.” He pushes them toward me.
My heart sinks. “This is his handwriting.” The thick script I’d know anywhere. When he was too sick to be around people, we’d pass notes, and I knew his handwriting as well as my own. “What is this on the bottom?”
“That’s my medical license number, but I never understood why it would be there. It’s why I thought I was getting a medical patient, not a daughter.”
I laugh once. “The trinkets confuse me. They’re rather sporadic. Nothing connects or is a theme.”
Holden arranges them in a row. “This is the order they came.”
“Always with a Vegas . . . oh my God! The Eiffel Tower is where the Garden of Eden Club is, and the pyramid is because I stayed in the Luxor . . . in Vegas. Big Ben is because I’m British.”
He chuckles. “It all makes sense then.”
“It does, but why the cloak and dagger mystery? Why not just call you and explain instead of sending some bloody mini statues?”
“We do some crazy things for the people we love, but it doesn’t mean they are the right choices. I can’t imagine him making you walk away when he was dying was easy.”
Unwanted emotions fill me, and I turn my head. “I know . . . but I wish I knew why and now what.”
His hand tightens. “Now you’re here, and I’ll do everything I can to protect you and Eden.”
I turn to him and smile softly. “Thank you.”
He nods. “Let’s get ready and get our story straight so I can keep that promise.”
ChapterSeven
SOPHIE
“Are you sure you want to go into town already?” I ask from the doorway as Holden grabs the paperwork he needs.
“It’s better we get out in front of it. At least with Mama James,” he assures me.
“Okay.”
I hate the idea of having to answer questions about Eden or being judged by those who don’t know me. All too often, the woman wears the mark of shame. I was young, drunk, and slept with a man in a club without even knowing his whole name. I’m a whore, a slut, or a harlot who just wanted to trap a man with money, whereas Holden is a stud who “got lucky.” I have never understood why a woman is shamed for the same act a man is congratulated for, but this is my lot, and I’ve endured, as we all do.
