Staring at the hand in my lap, I nod, but her faith in me only makes me feel worse. She doesn’t understand what a terrible judge of character I can be—that falling for a man who’s prone to making you miserable and doing terrible, irresponsible things because of that man runs in my family. Just look at my mother.
“I’m sorry, Darcy,” I murmur.
“For what?”
“For complicating everything. If I were less selfish—”
“Ava, everyone deserves to try to find happiness.”
“I promise I won’t let Lucas jeopardize the adoption.”
She pats my hand. “You’ve had a long trip, so let’s let you rest a bit. I’m beat too.” She smiles. “We should have a picnic tomorrow, if the weather’s nice.” Dar
cy loves spending time outside.
“Sure.”
“Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Darcy.”
I watch her disappear into the newly done master bedroom on the first level. Guilt niggles at me, and I can’t help but feel like I’m taking something from her that I have no right to.
Even if Mia is really mine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucas
I hang my keys on the hook in the foyer, and shut the door. The house is dark and slightly cold. My housekeeper Gail doesn’t heat the main area unless I’m in town.
Tonight the place feels larger and darker…bleak, even. I scowl into the hall as a knife twists in my gut. Jesus. This is always how it is coming back from a trip. What the hell is the matter with me?
I hit the switch by the kitchen, and light pours over the granite countertop and the fridge. A couple of bottles of excellent red await me, along with two wide-rimmed glasses. I instructed my assistant Rachael to get them so Ava and I could enjoy ourselves tonight.
The sight of them only makes the knife inside my gut dig deeper.
For some reason, I never expected her foster father to actually show. Well…I didn’t expect anybody to show. Nobody picks me up from airports or calls to see if I’m all right. Nor do they expect texts letting them know I’m okay.
I have an absurd urge to text Elizabeth, because she’s the only one who won’t mock me for feeling the way I do.
Jesus. Stop being so clingy. Nobody likes immature, needy…
I go to my bedroom, stripping down along the way and discarding my clothes in a long trail. It doesn’t matter if Ava’s not with me at this particular moment. She’s on the same continent, in the same country, the same state, the same city. Hell, her foster parents’ place is in the same gated community. This is not a big deal.
I remind myself of that again as I slip into the cool sheets, phone clutched in my hand.
The grandfather clock out in the living room ticks, and I can hear it through the closed door. Or perhaps I’m imagining it; my brain’s going at two hundred miles an hour.
Why isn’t she calling? She said she would.
Oh please. Don’t tell me you really believed that. People say what you want to hear, but at the end of the day, they do whatever they want. Haven’t you learned that by now?
I have. I’ve learned it especially well.
If you behave, maybe I won’t have to send you away to camp. My mother, standing with her arms crossed.
If you behave, maybe you won’t have to go to boarding schools like your half-siblings.