“No. Yes. More than anything, I don’t understand.”
“Be glad you don’t.” She stepped forward and reached up to grasp my shoulders. It took everything inside me not to jerk away. “I don’t want that for you. Not that it hasn’t worked out fine for me, but you’re not?—”
“A liar? A cheater?” I couldn’t help the words, even if I regretted the look they put in her eyes so like my own. “I thought you were different than he was.”
“He’s your father.” She so rarely used a harsh tone with me that it was almost a slap to hear it.
“And you’re my mother. I put both of you on pedestals, so I guess it was time for that to end too.”
Something like grief crossed over her face. “What is right for us doesn’t have to be right for you.”
“You’re correct there. It isn’t. Maybe that’s the whole point with Ryan. We wouldn’t ever make some bloodless arrangement about something that should be messy as fuck or it shouldn’t exist. Period.” Deliberately, I took her hands off my shoulders. I gave them a squeeze, but I released them.
This wouldn’t end our relationship. I loved her. I loved my father. But I needed time.
That was Ryan and I, needing space to think.
The difference was I didn’t when it came to her. With Ryan, my certainty was as steady as the energy that sparked between us.
Hot, untamable. Eternal.
“If you’ve found something real with her, hold onto it,” my mom said hoarsely. “Give her that time she needs, and then make sure she understands.”
I forced down the knot in my throat as she gripped my hand before crossing my office and softly closing the door.
I rose and went around the desk to wake up my computer. The wrongness of Ryan not being here, not driving me crazy, sank into my bones, and I gave in to the urge to rest my head in my hands.
Just for a minute though. This wasn’t the end.
She wasn’t going to think her way out of being in love with me, even if she didn’t know it yet.
I pulled up her email and didn’t bother to reread it. I knew what it said. If those penguins had been here, I could’ve recited it to their saxophone music.
It didn’t take long to write my response.
I will wait.
I pressed send just as a knock sounded at the door. Inwardly, I groaned. “Mrs. Donnelly, I told you not to come by today, that I’ll be in first thing Monday?—”
“I’m not Mrs. Donnelly, Mr. Shaw.” Grant Thorn opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes wild and his longish hair whipped into a frenzy from either his hands or a sudden windstorm. He wore a tie with his sport jacket, but it looked as if it was on the verge of coming unknotted.
“Thorn, what happened?” I shot around the desk in an instant. “Did something happen to Ryan? Where is she? I’ll go to her. Just tell me where she is.”
He shocked me by smiling. “So, it’s you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He shook his head. “She’s fine. I don’t know where she is.”
The adrenaline surge through my veins crashed into something akin to despair. “Then how do you know she’s fine?”
“I’m sorry, mate, I talked to her, but I didn’t know she wasn’t home. I called for a reference.”
I frowned. My mind was still spinning, and I hadn’t quite caught my breath yet. “Are you looking for secretarial work?”
“No indeed. I need a lawyer. She says you’re the best, so I need you.”
“You told me you didn’t have a wife, so what do you need with a divorce attorney? Or let me guess.” I crossed my arms. “You suddenly remembered you’re actually married. There’s been a lot of that confusion going around lately.”