Page 124 of Sold to Her Enemy

“But he had no right to!”

“Mckenna, you have to understand that from Adrian’s point of view. It looked horrible.”

“I know he’s been raised to take over from Fredrick, but you’re like a second set of parents to him. He could have waited.”

“That’s the problem.” My mom reaches over and squeezes my knee. I try not to flinch, but I can’t help it. Maybe it’s because I can feel the pieces sliding together in my brain. This woman before me wasn’t the one who was wearing fuzzy pajamas and staring at the TV when I left her.

This is Boston Liz Moran, wife of celebrated scientist Davis Moran. The woman who came from poor beginnings but worked her way through business school met Davis and then patiently waited for the brilliant scientist to get work while she worked at a job she hated in finance.

This is the woman I haven’t seen in months, who didn’t call me, who didn’t wonder how I was doing.

“Adrian has never been the type of person to forgive. I think he’s still mad at me for running into his first car.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Dad. He shouldn’t have parked it by the garage.”

Dad waves my comment away. “You can’t blame Adrian for doing what he was trained to do, Mckenna. He felt betrayed, and he acted like any man feeling that way would.”

“Yeah, and burn down everything you created.”

“My love, what we created at MM Industries will live on, but your mother wanted to leave.”

“I know! Mom was unhappy. Grace tried to get her to work with the horses.”

“Mckenna, I love that you love horses, but I don’t want to be around them unless I’m betting on them on the track,” my mother says. “I missed your father. And I missed what the four of us had before you came along. Before our children came along.”

My parents exchange a heavy look.

I scratch at my denim-covered knee, torn between staying here and running down the long drive, getting in the second-hand car I bought after arriving in Oregon.

“What does that have to do with Adrian making up stories and destroying what you built based on flimsy proof?”

“Mckenna.” Dad’s tone makes me stand and walk to the edge of the porch.

I can see the herd grazing on the hill.

So many nights, I have fallen asleep to the sounds of hooves on the ground galloping. After everything, I’ve found peace here. I don’t want to hear what my parents are going to say.

The way mom tenses her shoulders and dad moves to stand behind me gives me the worst feeling.

My stomach is a tangled mess of butterflies. “I don’t want to hear it, Dad.”

“You have to, Mckenna. I’m sorry.”

“Mom’s been unhappy and distant for years, you know that.” My dad places a hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah. Mom, I’m sorry I prefer horses to pianos, but that’s just who I am.” I shrug off his hand,

“I know, Mckenna. I love you. I love who you are.”

“How could you leave us all these months without any communication?” I spin to my father, the words coming out so sharply that he flinches. But I can’t hide it anymore.

“Mckenna, I know. It was wrong of me to do. Your mother has put up with me all these years.”

My mom stands up and comes near me, but I don’t want her here, not right now. I don’t like her expression.

“Yeah, but what hardship? She got the fancy house she wanted in Boston and the opportunity to hang out with her friends.”

“Mckenna, you know there’s more to life than houses and parties,” my mom says.

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