Page 77 of Crazy In Love
“I know it looks like my family is perfect, but nothing is perfect, Emilia.”
She nodded. “I’d say you guys are pretty damn close, from what I’ve seen. That’s probably why ‘The Taylor Tea’ writes about you so much.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, cutting another piece of steak and popping it in my mouth.
“You don’t see them writing about me, do you? People love to hear about perfect people. Perfect lives. They try to find faults and cracks, and they love to see people who are doing well fall, unfortunately. It’s human nature. So it’s actually a compliment that you’re always a topic.”
Something about her words made my chest tighten.
“Everything isn’t always as it seems.” I reached for my wine glass and took a sip as she peeked up at me through a curtain of dark hair.
We sat in silence for a little stretch, before I added to my thought. “My parents aren’t my biological parents.”
She set her fork down and turned to face me. “I didn’t know that.”
“Most people don’t know about it. It’s not really something we advertise. I mean, my parents are Ellie and Keaton Chadwick in every way. They’ve raised me from birth.”
“So they adopted you after you were born?” she asked, and it was impossible to miss the empathy in her dark blue eyes.
“My biological mother is Ellie’s sister. Her name was Bridget, and I was named after her. She died giving birth to me.” My gaze locked with hers as I waited to see the shock and horror on her face. The acknowledgment that my birth was a tragedy.
But it never came.
Just more empathy and sadness as her eyes welled with emotion.
“I’m so sorry.” She swiped at the tear moving down her cheek. “What about your dad? Where is he?”
“He couldn’t handle the grief. He and I moved in with my now parents, and apparently, he spiraled immediately. I hadn’t seen him in years, and then he lost his battle to drugs and alcohol eventually. I think he probably blamed me for her death. I’m fairly certain that I was a reminder of what I took from him.”
She blinked several times and shook her head. “No one would blame a baby for that, Bridger. He probably just couldn’t handle losing his wife.”
I blew out a breath.
Why was I telling her this shit?
I didn’t even talk about it with my siblings. Obviously, they all knew what had happened, but it was never discussed. At least not with me.
“Anyway, I’m just letting you know that no one is perfect. So don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I took another sip of wine. The conversation was way too heavy for my liking.
Hell, I preferred silence.
But here I was telling her things that I despised talking about.
“Thank you for sharing something so personal with me.” She used her napkin to dab her eyes.
“If it ends up in that fucking column, I will have a fancy toilet delivered daily to your home just to torture you,” I said dryly.
I expected her to get mad at me for even suggesting that she wrote the column after all this time.
But she didn’t.
Instead, her gaze softened, and she reached for my hand, placing her small one over my large one and squeezing it.
“You can trust me, Bridger.” She didn’t pull her hand away, and I didn’t move mine.
Because for whatever reason, I did trust her.
