Page 94 of Loss and Damages
I stop reading and blink back tears. Leo hadn’t called me that in a long time, maybe not since he was old enough to properly say my name. Filled with excitement, he would chase after me, too young to pronounce all the syllables, and the only thing that came out halfway recognizable would be, “Mick, Mick!” I pretended to be aggravated by the attention, but deep down I was pleased, until Mama would swoop in and cuddle him to her and say, “Don’t bother your brother, he doesn’t like it.”
Forlorn, he would look over Mama’s shoulder, waving a chubby little hand in goodbye.
Eventually, Leo stopped seeking me out, and I never started.
I go back to the email.
—I met the most wonderful woman. She’s so vibrant andreal,nothing like the women in the city, and talking to her is such a pleasure. Her name is Jemma Ferrell, and she owns a gallery in Hollow Lake. You probably want to know what I’m doing out there, but this isn’t about that. I’ve known Jemma for a few months now, I spend time with her whenever I can, but, and you’d call me crazy, I think she’s perfect for you.
I stop reading and turn toward the window. The rain is still falling, beating against the glass, the storm clouds darkening the sky into premature nighttime.
Leo thought of me. When he spent time with Jemma, he thought of me.
He didn’t take her to bed because he was saving her for me. That’s why he wanted to ask her to the fundraiser. He wasn’t going to propose. He was going to introduce her to me.
I want to ask you if you’d consider going out to Hollow Lake and meeting her. I know you’re unhappy, and it hurts me somuch to see you this way. You’ll never be good enough for Dad. I know I’m not, and I made peace with it a long time ago. You’re his favorite, but Mick, can’t you see he’s using you? He’s using you to do the shit parts of the business, letting you take the fall for the dirty deals, letting you shoulder the bad reputation. I think if you met Jemma, she’d show you there’s more to life than money, more to life than Dad’s contingent approval. We aren’t close, I know we’re not, but if you give me one thing in this life, let me drive you out to meet her. I’ll never ask you for another favor.
You’re my brother and I love you. Please believe me when I say the business isn’t worth it. When I look at Jemma, I see family, I see a future, but that future doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to you. Please, think about it. Here’s a picture I took of her the other night. I know you won’t believe me when I say I’ve never had her in bed, but I haven’t. She’s not a plaything, not a pawn in a game, and I can’t ‘give’ her to you any more than you can give one person to another, but she’s not mine. I know that deep in my heart. Do this for me, if my happiness means anything to you at all.
Love, Leo.
Below the text is a picture of Jemma, taken last fall, sitting in front of a firepit, a blanket in her lap. Her blue eyes are electricity in the flames and her black hair glitters like coal in the light. A glass half full of red wine sparkles in her hand. I can almost hear the laughter coming from the photo because I’ve heard it myself, in person.
The love of my life, this little girl. Never settling for the man I was when she knew I could be so much more.
He didn’t send the email. He had a change of heart, perhaps, or thought he’d do better foisting her on me in public where I couldn’t shake her off. The fundraiser had been romantic, the music and champagne, the opulence of the ballroom. Not that Ineeded such things to fall in love with her. All I’d needed was her kindness, her sympathy and compassion, her gentle touch, to fall hard enough to break my heart.
The email presented more questions than answers, but it eases my heart he would have approved of us. He would have been happy I made my way to her without his help.
Some would call that Fate. Some would call it luck.
I simply call it a miracle.
And she’s waiting for me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jemma
Thunder rumbles outside, and I tighten my hold on Maya who mews in her sleep. She’s lucky—she’s been out for the last three hours. It’s past midnight and I haven’t been able to drift off, and not because of the thunder and lightning.
I have doubts. Huge doubts.
Giving up, I crawl out of the bed in Jeremy and Tara’s spare room and gently cradle Maya in my arms. I have to move her to her crib if I’m not going to lie with her, or she’ll roll off. As gently as I can, I carry her to her crib in the corner of the room where she wiggles for a moment, pops her thumb into her mouth, and falls back into a deep sleep.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t have minded rocking her, but Tara’s trying to train her to go back to sleep without help. I’m lucky Tara lets her sleep with me at all. I’d be a terrible mother.
I pad into the kitchen and put milk on the stove to heat to make old-fashioned hot chocolate. I could use the microwave, but the apartment is so quiet I don’t want to wake anyone.
“Can’t sleep?” my brother asks, shuffling into the kitchen.
“No.”
“The storm’s loud tonight. Maya okay?”
“Yeah. I put her in her crib before I came out here.”
“Thanks.” Dressed in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of cotton lounging pants, he sits at the table and watches me. “What’s the matter? I always know when you’re melancholy.”
