Page 63 of Her Ex's Father
The drive home is quiet. Caroline murmurs something to Leo, then settles back with her arms folded tight. Maddie stares out the window, her reflection pale in the glass, having chosen to sit in back—in the shadows.
I glance into the rearview mirror and my gut twists. She’s teary-eyed, lashes wet, but silent. Leo, beside her, has slipped his hand into hers. He doesn’t look at me, just squeezes her fingers like a promise.
The sight tears me open. My wife, comforted by a sixteen-year-old boy because I let my so-called friends treat her like dirt.
I grip the wheel harder, jaw aching.
When we get home, I help Maddie out and she heads straight inside, a spring misting of rain starting in the dark. Caroline nudges Leo off toward their car, then she moves close, a comforting hand on my arm.
“You don’t deserve that, Ben. Not after everything you went through. Georgiana would be livid.”
I clench my teeth, nod. “I’m just happy you didn’t throw a drink in Ann’s face.”
A smirk curves my sister’s lips. “Oh, you mean the way I did when she called Leo a bastard at the Christmas gala?”
The memory is enough to make me smile, but it doesn’t bring happiness, only bitterness. My gut sinks like a stone at the realization that I’ve brought Maddie into a life of gossip and ghosts.
“There aren’t many people I call friends, but I think it’s safe to say Joseph and Ann won’t get any more responses to dinner invitations.”
Caroline nods curtly, car keys jingling in her fist. “Good. Remember what’s important, Ben. It isn’tthoseassholes, that’s for sure.”
She walks off with her head held high, and despite how claustrophobic the last few months have felt, I’m reminded that other people suffer too. That they make it through.
Maddie and I can get through this.
Screw everyone else.
She’s all that matters.
When I stride inside, Hugh is waiting, Maddie behind him in the entryway. His eyes are serious, but I’m locked onto my wife, and when he says “Mr. Bronson, I need to talk to you,” I tell him to schedule time tomorrow. Brush past him like he doesn’t exist.
Maddie lingers, one hand brushing the curve of her belly, the other hanging limp at her side.
I should apologize. I should say something to fix the look on her face. But all I can think is how badly I’ve failed her—again.
I clear my throat, voice rough. “I ruined tonight.”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “You didn’t ruin anything. They did.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you. I thought… I thought if they saw us together, if they saw how serious I was, they’d respect it. Respect you. Instead?—”
“Instead, they made me feel like a mistake,” she whispers.
The words gut me. I take a step closer, but she doesn’t move.
“Do you mean it?” she asks suddenly, her voice small but cutting straight through me. “What you said at dinner. That you love me.”
The room tilts. For a man like me, words are weapons, tools, contracts. I don’t throw them around carelessly. I hadn’t planned to say it at all. And now?—
“Maddie…”
“Please,” she says, eyes shining. “I need to know.”
I don’t answer with words. I can’t. Instead, I cup her face, tilting it toward me, and kiss her.
It isn’t the hunger that’s carried us through every stolen moment before. It’s slower, deeper, threaded with something heavier than lust. Her lips tremble under mine, then steady, pressing back with equal need.
When I pull her closer, her body fits perfectly against mine, soft where I’m hard, warm where I’m cold. The curve of her stomach presses between us, and my hand finds it instinctively, protective and claiming all at once.
