Page 51 of Her Ex's Father
The words slice clean. I stagger back a step.
He drags a hand through his hair, muttering, “I thought dinner in public would keep him civil. I thought—” His voice cracks in frustration. “But Derrick has always blamed me for her death. Always. And he always will.”
“Ben…”Is it true?I’m tempted to ask.
He shakes his head, furious, wounded. “Enough, Madeline. Leave it.”
The dismissal cuts deeper than I expect. My throat aches, but I nod, retreating to the edge of the bed. He stays at the window, a silhouette carved from stone, refusing to look at me.
When Caroline knocks an hour later, I’m still sitting there, arms wrapped around my stomach, trying not to cry. Ben is gone; offsomewhere in the resort, “taking care of some business” being his excuse, despite the fact that it’s late.
She steps in without asking, carrying a glass of water and a look too sharp to be pity.
“Don’t take it personally,” she says. “Ben shuts everyone out when he’s bleeding. And tonight…” She sighs, shaking her head.
“I only wanted to help.” My voice is small, ashamed.
Caroline sets the glass on the nightstand. “You can’t fix what broke between him and Derrick. And you can’t fix what broke when Georgiana died. All you can do is… be here. Even when he pushes you away.”
I nod, but it doesn’t ease the hollow ache in my chest.
Caroline’s hand lands lightly on my back, rubbing slow, maternal circles. It helps me drift closer to exhaustion, both mental and physical. Emotional, too, with the tears clogging my throat and hormones raging through my body.
She takes my hand, squeezes it. “I meant to say earlier—congratulations.”
Her eyes are bright in the dim room, her smile genuine.
“It’s exciting, having another Bronson on the way. And it’s a lot, Maddie, but I promise—it’ll be worth it.”
When she leaves, I lie back against the pillows, one hand pressed to my stomach. For the first time since the wedding, I wonder if I’ll ever truly reach him—or if his ghosts will always stand between us.
Chapter 18
Benedict
Aweek has crawled by since the dinner at Bronson Hall, but the words haven’t left me.
Derrick’s voice still claws at the edges of my skull, dragging Georgiana’s name through blood. I’ve gone over every second of that night, every look Maddie gave me afterward—hurt, hesitant, reaching—and still I did what I always do. I shut her out.
It should have ended there. It should have stayed that way.
Derrick’s been staying at the Hall, in his usual suite. The staff, though I haven’t asked them to keep an eye on him, are alert; they can sense the tension, I’m sure, or hear the angry phone calls he’s made to our family lawyer.
I’ve gone through my life dead-set on making decisions without anyone’s approval. Until Georgiana—she was the only one I asked, in the privacy of our rooms, what she thought. Anything from the color of my socks to business moves. And now, without her, I’m back to my old habits;telling,not asking.
There’s a pit of guilt in the center of my chest, because I know I should’ve spoken to Madeline about changing the inheritance paperwork. About makingourchild my heir.
I just didn’t want her to know just how disappointed I was with Derrick—not the constant running away, but the fact that Ihaven’t been able to repair the rift between us. So, slowly, and silently, I decided to push him out. To punish him.
And now she has me questioning all that.
Another old habit I haven’t managed to shake, owning up to my idiot decisions, and apologizing.
Because now I’m standing in the foyer of the lodge, watching Stella wrap her arms around Maddie, both of them shrieking with laughter like teenagers. It’s easier than asking her forgiveness.
Maddie’s face is incandescent, lit with something I haven’t seen since the wedding. Pure, unguarded joy.
Her hands press to Stella’s shoulders, eyes glassy with tears. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much!”
