Page 105 of The Guest Cottage

“No. Pixie has her own place.”

“Because ofyou.” Sandra’s voice broke. “Because you’re helping her behind our backs.”

Aston kept quiet, and for once he looked a little unnerved.

Using a quieter tone than Sandra had, Marlow asked, “Would you rather she and your grandson suffer together?”

Silence stretched between them, then somehow ignited with tension that grew tighter and tighter . . .

The slap snapped Marlow’s head to the side, the sound of its impact loud and obscene, penetrating her ears before the burning pain registered.

Suddenly Cort was stationed in front of her, his body rock hard and practically vibrating with controlled rage. “Back. The fuck. Off.”

Marlow wanted to tell him she was okay, but she was still too stunned to get the words out.

Herman stepped to her right side, his hands fisted and his angry breath audible. Pixie stationed herself at Marlow’s left. Andy, bless his innocent little heart, cooed with interest but thankfully no fear. He was a very secure little boy.

It seemed that dozens of people emptied out of the tavern to stand beside or behind her.

As what had happened sank in, Marlow could only gape at her mother-in-law. Disbelief seemed to be her overriding reaction, but a fresh torrent of rage rushed in behind it.

CHAPTER14

Stepping around Cort, Marlow faced off with Sandra at close range. “Howdareyou!”

Hand over her mouth, Sandra swallowed convulsively as huge tears filled her eyes. “Oh God, Marlow,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry.” She started to reach out, but as Marlow tensed, Sandra slowly withdrew. “I can’t . . . I don’t . . .”

Marlow watched her fall apart.

Gulping, nearly gasping for air, Sandra stared in horror—and then openly sobbed. As if her legs gave out, she sank down to the dusty step near Marlow’s feet, uncaring of her designer slacks or the many people surrounding them. “I’m sorry.” Arms clutched around herself, she rocked forward. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

Aston stood there, his expression aghast before he lowered himself down to sit beside his wife. When he looked up at Marlow, she saw that his eyes, too, were suddenly wet. “Deepest apologies, Marlow. We’ve both been overwrought . . . It’s no excuse, I just didn’t realize.” He put his arms around Sandra, saying softly, “She’s always so strong.”

For the first time that Marlow could remember, Aston seemed to genuinely cherish his wife. Sandra buried her face in his neck, her wracking sobs heartbreaking.

Cort clearly wasn’t appeased, but his fury lost that dangerous edge. He looked back at everyone else, murmuring something that encouraged them all to go back inside.

Marlow felt their retreat but didn’t see it because she couldn’t pull her gaze away from her in-laws.

They were broken people, doing things they normally wouldn’t do. Belatedly, she understood what the loss of their only son had cost them. Their never-ending arrogance, their secure position in society, had blinded her to the fact that love was love, period.

These people had deeply loved Dylan, flaws and all. He was their flesh and blood, the baby they’d once held just as Pixie now held Andy. They’d watched him grow, had encouraged him endlessly, and despite his many issues, they’d been exceedingly proud of him. Knowing Dylan was gone forever had taken a terrible toll.

Unsure what to say or do, Marlow turned to Pixie, who had remained at her side. “You’re okay?”

Holding Andy protectively close, her gaze on Marlow’s cheek, Pixie nodded. “But your face . . .”

“I’ll be fine.”In a few more minutes. “Maybe you should wait inside—”

“No.” Pixie kissed Andy’s head. “They’re here because of me. It’s past time I faced them.”

Marlow couldn’t really argue with that, so she turned to Cort, offering a small smile despite the sting it caused. He needed to know that she had a firm hold on her emotions.

His hand, large but gentle, settled over her cheek as if to heal her. A fire of rage glowed in his warm brown eyes, but Cort was not an unrestrained man. He always controlled his reactions, especially when dealing with others.

It was but one of the many things she loved about him.

Quietly, he asked, “What can I do?”

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