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“I’m sorry, Buttercup . . .”
I don’t get to finish. She rolls over, turning her back to me. Despite my daughter’s frustration, I lean over and press my lips to the side of her head—a head Laura had one of the best neurosurgeons in the country check on.
Softly, I murmur, “Sweet dreams.”
With no response, I slip from her room and head into the empty living room. It’s the last place I kissed Laura. Just standing here, I can call up the memory of her aqua eyes.
Now that I know the truth about what Laura knew versus what Caleb withheld from her, I don’t blame her for clinging to her self-respect and cutting us out of her life. Still, I rub my hand against the pain in my chest. It hurts.
Like someone severed a lifeline I never knew I needed.
Pulling up Laura’s text string, I send her a flurry of messages.
Liam:
I just put Bailey to sleep and all I want to do is cry because she’s angry. I’m not upset she’s angry with me. I’m grateful for it.
I know, that sounds odd. The truth is, there’s two reasons behind it.
The first is I’m grateful she’s alive, and that’s because you saved her. You, Laura. No one else. You put your life on the line to save our girl.
Yes, you read that right. OUR girl.
She thinks of herself that way, would be my guess. She’s not speaking with me because I can’t figure out the way to bring you home.
I’m asking for the chance to explain the reason for what happened in person.
Please. Just a chance.
Every time I hit Send, I wait for the dots to move, for her to write back. Instead, the lack of response left an even more indelible mark—one of despair.
I grapple with what to do next as I relive each moment I spoke with her, touched her, tasted her, searching for a clue I knew must be there. It isn’t until the alarm goes off on my phone that I realize I sat there the whole night trying to piece together something that may not be able to be fixed.
That’s when desperation sets in.
Later that afternoon, after Bailey receives the news she can come out of her casts and use crutches to be weight bearing, I place a call.
“Amaryllis Events and Company, this is Cassidy. How may I help you?”
“Mrs. Lockwood, this is Liam Payne.”
Her polite Southern charm falls away. She hisses, “Yes?”
“I’d like to make an appointment to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”
There’s a long pause before, “And should I refuse?”
My voice breaks before I beg, “Please.”
I hang up terrified because I have an appointment to speak with Laura’s mother in three day’s time. Now, what the hell am I going to say?
Chapter
Sixty-Eight
If I ever wanted to know what Laura would look like as she aged, I’m facing her right now. I’d bet my life she’ll be as exquisitely beautiful and just as determined to take my nuts at the slightest offense as Cassidy Freeman-Lockwood is at this very moment.
Her icy demeanor almost does the job of shriveling my balls enough for them to fall off when she drawls, “If Laura had wanted us to meet in more than the professional capacity you work for my husband, I’m certain she would have introduced us before she ... departed.”