Page 103 of Under Southern Stars
“You broke her trust,” Emma cuts in, her voice cracking with emotion. “And what do you think this is going to do to Madison? That poor little girl’s already watched her father disappoint her mother for years. She was just starting to believe in you, and now this!”
“I am NOTHING like him!” The words tear from my throat with unexpected force.
“Aren’t you?” Lily asks, the quiet question somehow more devastating than Emma’s shouting. “You both manipulated her reality. You both made her question her judgment. You both betrayed her trust.”
I stagger back a step, the comparison to Troy like a knife between my ribs.
“She’s a woman who gets spat on and punched and still shows up for the next shift,” Lily continues, twisting the knife deeper. “And you didn’t think she could handle you?”
“That’s not fair,” I manage.
“What’s not fair,” Charlotte says icily, “is bringing a woman and her teenage daughter to the literal opposite side of the world before revealing your little deception. Was that the plan all along? Get them so far from home they’d have no choice but to deal with it?”
“No!” I protest. “I was going to tell her before—”
“Before what?” Emma demands. “Before you arrived? Before you booked the tickets? Before you fell in love with her? There was never a good time because you were a bloody coward, you absolute fucking drongo!” Her words echo across the vineyard, startling birds from the vines.
“You think I don’t know that?” I shoot back, my own anger finally surfacing. “You think I’m not painfully aware of how badly I’ve screwed up? I love her! I love them both! And I’ve probably lost them forever because I was too scared to trust that she’d see me, not the money!”
“And why wouldn’t she?” Lily asks, her voice softening slightly. “What evidence did you have that Sophia Mitchell, of all people, would care about your bank account?”
“That’s the bloody irony, isn’t it?” I laugh bitterly. “She wouldn’t have. But I couldn’t see that because I was too busy projecting my own insecurities onto her.”
“Well, at least you’ve figured that out,” Charlotte says dryly. “Only about ten hours too late.”
We fall into tense silence, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the autumn breeze.
“She’s gone, you know,” Lily says finally. “I gave her the keys to one of the estate cars. She and Madison went to Lake Wanaka.”
My head snaps up. “What? When?”
“About twenty minutes ago,” Lily replies. “They needed space.”
“Space or a way home?” I ask, panic rising. “Are they coming back?”
“Their bags are still in the guest house,” Lily assures me. “But honestly, Jack, I wouldn’t blame her if she caught the first flight back to America.”
“Jesus Christ.” I sink down onto a stone bench, head in my hands. “What do I do?” I pull out my phone, fingers already typing a message before my brain catches up.
“No,” Charlotte says firmly, snatching the phone from my hands. “Do not bombard her with texts. One message. Simple, direct, no excuses.”
“Give me that—”
“I’m saving you from yourself.” Charlotte holds the phone behind her back. “What were you going to say? Some long, rambling explanation about why you deceived her?”
“No, I—”
“Yes, you were,” Emma cuts in. “Because that’s what men always do. Try to explain away their mistakes instead of just owning them.”
I glare at her. “That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair,” Charlotte replies. “Especially not to Sophia.” She holds out my phone. “One message. Make it count.”
I take the phone, staring at the blank text field. What can I possibly say that would matter now? What words can rebuild the trust I’ve shattered?
Finally, I type:
