Page 116 of Close Match

“His guilt is killing him,” Char says bluntly.

“He wants to talk to you more than he wants his next breath, but doesn’t believe he’s worthy,” my father says grimly.

Is he?A small voice inside me wars with the huge heart that screamsYES!I run my hands over my cheek where the glass left a small scar and realize the mark has faded. Will my anger toward my mother?. Rearing back, I stand and begin to pace.

In a small part of my heart, I dreamed of Monty getting well so we could move forward, be together. But ever since I read my mother’s journal, the hesitation has been growing. Am I strong enough to handle life with Montague Parrish knowing what could come from it? Does he even want me? Am I a catalyst for this?

And why has he not contacted me?

“It’s not that I don’t want to hear what he has to say,” I finally say. “I just don’t know if I’m in a place to respond.”

My words cause silence to hang in the room. “Then don’t respond until you’re ready. But I think for him to get what you fought for him to have out of that program, and for you to heal, you should read what he has to say.” Compassionate green eyes rake over my face.

I nod. “And if I can’t forget? What does that do to all of us?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’ll always love both my children.” My father stands and opens his arms. I move into them quickly as if I’ve been doing it for years instead of months. “I’ll never force you to do or feel something you can’t.”

“Then maybe I should keep my appointment with my therapist this week. See what she has to say.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Char murmurs. My head ducks down to see her resting her chin on her knees. “And as a mother, I think you should bring the journals with you. You’re not betraying your mother by sharing your pain.”

Char’s words strike something deep inside me. That’s precisely what I’ve been doing; suppressing my pain, hiding Mom’s.

And isn’t that what Monty did to put us in this predicament?

A full-body shudder racks my body. I’m held tighter. “I just can’t believe it was all an act.”

“Your mother?” he guesses.

I nod. “And Monty. I have to believe this pain will go away because I’m scared of the alternative.”

“What’s that?” He brushes hair away from my cheeks.

“That happiness has worse odds than you and I ever being a match.”

Char pushes herself to her feet and wraps her arms around me from behind. Laying her head against my back, she whispers, “Happiness is going to find you again, Linnie. Whether that’s with or without my son, well, that remains to be seen.”

“At least my happy includes the two of you.” I’m rewarded with a tight squeeze for my comment before Char moves away.

“That it does. Now, I heard something once about a deli sandwich the size of my head.”

My eyes brighten before a V forms between my brows. “I don’t think we can DoorDash Wolf’s?” My stomach growls in protest.

“No, I’m going to phone a friend and have Simon go get it for us. He said he’d leave it outside the door once it’s here. Just because I can’t see him or Bristol doesn’t mean the boy can’t be put to use.” He adds on, “Of course, I’m buying them dinner as well.”

I nod solemnly. “Of course,” I say before I laugh at the idea of my famous brother-in-law being used by my father as dinner delivery service.

“Come on, let’s find a menu where you can tell me what to get,” he tells me.

“As long as it doesn’t have cilantro on it, I’ll pretty much eat anything,” I admit.

“Same here. See, Char. I’m not the only one who hates that crap,” he calls over his shoulder.

Char laughs. “Genetic freaks,” she teases.

Yeah, we are. But we’re each other’s genetic freak. And as I hug my dad to my side, I’m so grateful for it.

Seventy-Two