Page 98 of The VIP Doubles Down

Seeing the box brought back the swirling misery of the weeks after his father’s death. His chest felt as though it would cave in under the weight.

“You sit down and I’ll unpack it,” Allie said, towing him over to one of the armchairs. After he dropped into the chair, she cupped her hands against his cheeks. “If it gets too bad, I’ll slam the top shut and keep all the hurt inside.” She kissed him, her lips so tender against his that he felt an easing of the weight, as though she had taken some of it onto herself.

Walking to the desk, she flipped open the flaps. Gavin shoved out of the chair and paced over to the window to stare at the dark sea.

“Is it all right if I unwrap one of the books?” Allie asked.

He pivoted and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. Allie stood holding a plastic-wrapped hardcover in her hand.

“Go ahead, but you won’t find anything. I wrapped the book myself before I sent it to him.”

“Do you really think he never opened it?” Allie’s voice was clogged with sadness as well as something sweeter. She put it on the desk and carefully peeled the tape up. “It’s been opened and resealed. I can see where the edge of the tape originally was.” She looked up at him with an excited smile. “He looked inside.”

He had believed for too long that his father hadn’t cared about his books. “Maybe to see what the price was.”

She slipped the plastic off the book and eased open the cover. It fell back against her palm. “The spine is broken,” she said. “He read it.”

Gavin flattened his hand against the windowsill as the room seemed to warp and bulge in strange ways. His father had acknowledged the receipt of each book with a terse “So you have another one out.” He’d never once asked about a plot point or mentioned a favorite scene or character.

Even worse, he’d never commented on the fact that Gavin had dedicated the first book to him. Which made Gavin feel pathetic, like a child trying to win his father’s approval. Of course, that was exactly what he had been doing.

He expected to feel some sort of validation, or regret that he and his father had never had the chance to talk about Julian. But there was just the realization that they had wasted a hell of a lot of energy pretending that neither one of them cared.

“Ruth is going to be disappointed,” he said.

Allie looked up from turning the pages. “Why?”

“She thought there would be some grand emotional response to the information that my father read my books after all.”

“Doesn’t it give you some happiness? All these years you thought he couldn’t be bothered, but he valued the books so much he read them and then carefully resealed them.” Her eyes were soft with sorrow.

“In secret. Without saying a word to me.” He could hear the harshness in his voice.

“He couldn’t admit to you that he was wrong, but at least he knew it himself.” She put the book down and lifted out two more, examining the tape. “These were also unwrapped.”

“IsLevel Bestin there?”

“Your first book?” She began making a pile of hardcovers as she unloaded more of the box.

“It would be a mass-market paperback.” He should help her, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch the books his father had maintained a stubborn silence about.

She stacked a few more hardcovers before she began pulling out paperbacks. “Here it ... what’s this?” She put down the books and reached in so her arm was hidden practically up to her shoulder. Straightening, she came up with a freezer-size plastic baggie filled with large, brightly colored envelopes. She turned the baggie over and went still.

“What is it?” he asked as a shapeless fear spread through his chest like ice.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “They’re addressed to you.”

In two strides, he was at her side, staring down at the packet in her hands. He recognized the writing.

It was his mother’s.

The sight of it walloped him in the gut like a mule’s kick. For a long moment he couldn’t suck enough breath into his lungs.

He had the note from her locket, as well as a grocery list he’d found in the trash after she’d abandoned him. His father had destroyed all the photographs of his first wife, and as hard as Gavin had tried to retain it, his mother’s image had faded and blurred in his mind. So her handwriting had become his most tangible memory of her.

“Is Susannah your mother’s name?” Allie asked, her voice a caress of worry and caring.

He nodded.