Page 172 of Modern Romance Collection Books (5-8)

‘But the world will never know.’

‘The world wasn’t what was important to him, Mateo. You were. I know...he...wasn’t always able to show it. He didn’t have a good relationship with his own parents and,’ his mother paused and looked away, ‘there was a lot of hurt there that was very deep. Too deep. But he loved you. And foryouto know that he wasn’t chasing fantasies, that would have been enough.’

His mother’s long-ago whispered words came back to him then and he knew he couldn’t hide from this any longer.

‘Mama, why did we leave him?’

She looked away, trying to conceal her hurt.

‘I... I heard you say that it was for me.’

Still looking away from him, she pressed her fingers against her lips. ‘I’m ashamed you heard that. Ashamed and truly sorry. It was not because of you,’ she said, finally turning to look at him so that he could see the truth of her words.

His breath shuddered slowly from his lungs.

‘We left because, as much as I loved your father, I simply couldn’t continue to live in the absence of him. It made me less; it took things away from me and I could see that it was doing the same to you. So no, we did not leave because of you. But telling myself I was leaving my husband for the sake of my child helped ease the guilt of breaking up my family. I...had no idea that you’d heard that, and I’m so deeply sorry for it.’

Something eased in Mateo’s chest, but the pressure was still there. Something tapping against the walls of the emotional cage he’d put everything in for the last twenty years.

He looked at his hands, unable to look his mother in the eye. ‘Am I like him?’

His stomach clenched, waiting for the gut punch he feared was coming.

Mateo’s mother placed her hands over his, drawing his gaze back to hers, and the love shining in her eyes humbled him.

‘You are the best bits of him and the best bits of me,mi corazón,’ she said, the sincerity and truth of her words raising the hairs on his forearms.

‘But he let us leave,’ he whispered.

‘Yes, he did. I think that was because he did not know better. He did not know how to fix the problems between us.’

‘I tried so hard,’ Mateo said, ‘to make it okay, to stop it hurting you so much.’

‘I know,mi hijo, and it was my weakness that let you do it. Because that wasn’t your responsibility, Mateo. It wasn’t for you to protect me, but for us to protect you and... I don’t think we did such a good job of that,’ she said, the tears in her eyes hurting him as much as his own.

Mateo went to interrupt but she cut him off.

‘Your father and I were always so incredibly proud of you and what you’d achieved. He loved you so much.’

‘But I hadn’t spoken to him for years before his death,’ Mateo said, the shame almost drowning him now.

‘Mateo, that didn’t matter one bit. He loved you. It is that simple and that difficult,’ she said on a sad smile. ‘But he never blamed you.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because we spoke. We would always speak on your birthday,’ she said, smiling. ‘You were the one thing that always brought us back together.’

This time Mateo did feel sucker-punched. All that time he’d missed and he’d never get back. The wasted opportunities because of his stubbornness, his pride...his fear.

‘I don’t...’ he started, struggling to find the words he needed. ‘I don’t want to make the same mistakes as he did.’

‘Good,’ his mother replied, with a strength that surprised him. ‘Both your father and I made mistakes—I won’t let him shoulder the blame entirely. But learn from our mistakes. We turned and ran from our hurts, not realising that we could never fix things alone...but together?’

His mother let the question hang in the air as blood pumped through Mateo’s veins with hope and energy and strength.

From where she was brewing another coffee by the kitchen window, his mother turned to look back at him. ‘This may sound strange,mi amor, but I’d like to thank whoever gave me my son back.’

‘Me too, Mamá. Me too.’

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