Page 137 of Twist of Fate
“It’s password protected.” Who has a photo album on their phone that’s password protected—that isn’t nudes, that is?
“For the first day or so after my da’s stroke, I didn’t even look at my phone. Shock, I guess. I kept thinking I was living in some horrible nightmare because this wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t ready. I had plans. I had…you. When the doctors finally gave us the prognosis, I knew it was over. Everything I promised you in that lobby that night—gone.”
I hate that he went through all of that alone. I often wonder what our lives would look like if he hadn’t pushed me away, but then I wouldn’t have had that extra time with my mom. The months of travel. Caring for her. Being there until the very end.
It hurt at the time, but I was exactly where I needed to be.
“I remember sitting outside his hospital room, staring at those photos for hours, trying to memorize every single one. That’s how Rian found me, just off the plane from Seattle. He tried to talk me out of it—to convince me I was being rash and ridiculous—but I was resolute. I thought I was doing the right thing by putting the company first. I rationalized my decision by telling myself you were better off.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “In my final act of self-sabotage, I asked Rian to delete everything. Every photo, text, voicemail, and, finally, your phone number.”
I just stare at him, unsure what to say.
“But, at the last minute, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let you go, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. Seeing those photos would be torture, and I’d eventually give in and call you. So, I had him put everything in there”—he points to the phone still in my hand—“including screenshots of texts and even your number. And then he set the password.”
“So you didn’t delete my number, then?”
“Not in the traditional sense of the word, no.”
“Do you think—” I hesitate. “Do you think you would have ever…caved?”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing down my shoulder. “I don’t know. I’d like to say yes. I wanted to. Fuck, I thought about it at least once every day. But knowing the mindset I was in, I’m not sure. I was hell-bent on not making the same mistakes as my father.”
“You mean you were hell-bent on spending the rest of your life miserable and alone.”
“And I was doing an excellent job at it too.” He grins.
“Sorry to derail your plans.”
“I’m not,” he says, growing serious. “Look, the point I’m trying to make is this: ever since I can remember, I’ve had a father who was never home. He was in the office more than he was at home. He made me believe it was one or the other. So today, I decided to choose you.”
“What do you mean, choose me? I thought you said you weren’t stepping down?”
“I’m not, but I fully intended to. I would have if it hadn’t been for my mam.”
“You talked to your mom? Is that where you’ve been?”
He nods. “Apparently, I’m not the only one. She told me about your visits.” His expression softens, and his voice cracks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were—” Shit, now my voice is wobbling. “You already had so much on your plate, and I knew how worried you were about her. So, I just made a point to visit and call. It was good for me, too—healing, you know?”
Maggie Larkin-O’Connell is an amazing woman. Complicated. Broken, even. But, amazing. I could see that from the moment I met her in the hospital that day, but I also felt something familiar in her gaze.
Loneliness.
“Healing is definitely the right word. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her. She was heading out to a black-tie charity event. The woman could hardly get out of bed the last time I saw her.”
“She’s doing really well, I think. It took some convincing to get her to speak with a therapist, but once she did, I truly noticed some improvement. I think she’s just grappling with her new reality. She will figure it out.”
“I hope so. She deserves happiness after all the shit she’s been through.”
“Because of your dad not being around?”
He lets out a pained laugh. “Yeah.” He shakes his head. “You know I bought this building from him. Well, Mam transferred the ownership to me after his stroke, but it was his before that.”
“I didn’t, no,” I answer.
“He used to stay here on nights when it got too late, and he didn’t want to drive back home to Blackrock.”
Pretty nice place to rest your head for the night…
