Page 65 of The Wedding Driver
“No. Because of me,” Foster admitted. “I’ve used the way in which Lisa died as an excuse not to live.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Victor turned his head, peeking behind the curtain. “Look. I’ve always known you to be ridiculously responsible. I can’t imagine you forgot birth control. Or that it just slipped your mind. If it did, subconsciously, you wanted it to.”
“That sounds like something my therapist would say.” Frankly, Foster had been thinking a lot about why he’d been so reckless. They’d had sex the night before, and he’d reached for a condom.
Just because they’d been in the kitchen meant jack shit.
“Truth be told, we haven’t actually bought the Plan B pill.” He nearly choked on the words and it wasn’t because he was having this conversation with his ex-father-in-law, but because he didn’t like the bitter taste the idea left in his mouth. “I don’t know how I feel. I’ve been so adamant about not wanting to be in a relationship, get married, have a family, that having all this happen at once is making my head spin.”
Victor rested his hand on Foster’s shoulder and squeezed. “You have always been one of the kindest, gentlest, and strongest men I’ve ever met. I’ve admired your dedication and conviction—even though at times I haven’t agreed with it—to my daughter.”
“You always thought it was misguided.”
“I still do because I believed it could be pointed in the direction of someone like Tonya. Maybe you needed to do that until you and Tonya were ready to take the giant leap, but I wish you would reconsider having a family.”
“Thank you. Your support means a lot.”
“Denise and I will always be here for you. Always. We’ve never wanted you out of our lives.” Victor dabbed his eyes. “And when Victoria passes, we’ll still want to have a relationship with you. If you have more children, we hope that you’ll bring them around and let us get to know them. We love you like you’re our own son.”
A guttural sob filled his throat. He tried to swallow it, but he couldn’t. He inhaled slowly. “We better get back inside Victoria’s room.” He pulled himself together. Once he was alone with Tonya, he’d have another conversation about what to do next.
17
Foster sat at the edge of his bed and sighed. A combination of sadness and anger filled his soul.
Victoria was gone.
He hadn’t even been able to bring her back to his place. She died forty minutes after the altercation with Kathy. There were then hours of decision-making and paperwork.
Thank God for Tonya. She’d been his rock. He had no idea what he would have done had she not been by his side. But his heart still broke into a million pieces.
He tried to tell himself that Victoria was in a better place. That maybe she’d been released of all her addictions and she’d been reunited with their daughter.
He gripped the side of the mattress. His soul ached. His heart filled with a mixture of pain and rage. The urge to disappear into the fabric of the mountains behind his house hadn’t been as prevalent as when Victoria was released from prison. He’d told himself all these years that he could forgive her for what she’d done because she’d been living in the grips of her drug use. His brain understood that Victoria had never been in her right mind. If she had, she would have never chosen a fix over their precious little girl.
By the time they’d gotten home, it was early the next morning, and he and Tonya had spent all of Sunday in bed.
The bathroom door opened, and Tonya stepped out into the loft. Her hair was perfectly styled, and her makeup was applied for the day. She stole his breath. She was his world and he never wanted to let her go.
Ever.
She was his compass, just like Doug had described.
“I only have one meeting today.” She sat down next to him, running her hands up and down his back. “I can cancel if you want me to.”
He took her hand, and all his negative feelings disappeared. “There’s no reason for you to do that.”
Foster ran a hand over his face. Victor and Denise didn’t want to have a funeral, or even a celebration of life. Technically, it was no longer their decision. Even though Foster and Victoria were divorced, she’d signed over everything to him, but she hadn’t wanted any service either. She had one request and that was to have her ashes scattered over their daughter’s grave. He’d checked with the cemetery and they’d confirmed they’d be able to grant that wish.
There would be no ceremony. Just him and Victoria’s parents, but he wasn’t ready to do it yet and Victor told him to take his time.
His cell dinged. He lifted it and stared at the calendar reminder.
Fuck.
He needed to leave in ten minutes to go pick up Maxwell and take him to the doctor.
He understood why Maxwell didn’t want to fight. He was an old man who’d lived a good, decent, kind life. Since Foster lost his daughter, he lived on the fringe of existence. He woke up every day and did what was expected on the surface. He ate food. He smiled and acknowledged others. He worked. However, at the end of the day, it was as if he shut off his soul and blended into the background like leaves rustling in the wind.
