Page 63 of Something Old

He stared at her, realization dawning on his face as he watched her. He opened his mouth to speak, and she held up her hand.

“No, I’m speaking now. All week, you’ve told me I should be proud of what I’ve done—supporting my mom and me, handling all the legal affairs after my father’s death, creating a new life. And I’m proud of what I’ve done. It may not be starting a vineyard or becoming famous in Texas for wines, but I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done. I’m proud and if you don’t agree, then we have bigger problems.”

“Delaney, I’m proud of you. I just meant that if I come back to Houston and return to the firm, you won’t have to work so hard and can have the life you were always meant to have.”

It was her turn to have a realization, one that had nothing to do with Ethan or anyone else. “Maybe I don’t know where I’m going next and have no idea what I want to do, but I can handle it and I’ll figure it out. I don’t need you to protect me anymore.”

“Oh, great. We’re back to that? I stood by you back then. You were the one to toss me aside. Besides, what’s so wrong with wanting to take care of your fiancée?” He pivoted on his heel and ran his fingers through his hair again. “Look, I don’t want to fight. Can we please table this until after the wedding? Next week we’ll talk about this.”

She crossed her arms again, shutting him out. “Fine. For Caroline and Matthew. But we need to discuss it.”

“Fine.” He held out his hand. “Now, do you want to come inside? It’s getting cool out here.”

She glanced at his hand, then around at the dark night. “No. I think I’ll stay out here for a few minutes. I need the break from everything.”

He nodded, then pulled her flush against his body, her folded arms pressed against his chest. He lowered his lips and kissed her long, slow, and deep. Desire stirred low in her belly, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close, preventing the outside world from intruding on them.

“Remember that I love you. That will never change.” He spoke fiercely, imprinting the words on her heart with ferocity.

She pressed a hand against his cheek. “I know, Ethan. I love you too.”

He hugged her tightly, then let her go, walking into the hotel restaurant without a backward glance.

* * *

Delaney wrapped her pashmina around her to ward off the chill and sat in a rocking chair on the porch. She tucked her legs under her, pulling her dress over her feet to keep them warm in the rapidly cooling evening. A flash of light to her right and then the smell of a cigar wafted over to her, indicating someone else had been on the porch, maybe having witnessed the entire confrontation. The figure walked toward her slowly until finally the light spilling out of the restaurant illuminated him.

Ethan’s father, William Van Owen. A man who had been almost as close to her as her own father at one time. A man who had betrayed her by his rejection as much as her own father had by his crime and subsequent death.

She made as if to rise, not feeling up to another battle, more blows to her fragile ego.

But he gestured for her to remain seated. “Please, don’t go on my account. In fact, I hoped we could talk without everyone seeing. Our friends are such gossipmongers, don’t you agree?”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled up a straight-backed chair and sat, studying her for a long moment. Delaney watched him warily but refused to give in to fear or any other emotion. He couldn’t control her anymore.

He puffed on his cigar for a moment, then sighed. “I hear congratulations are in order. You and my son?”

She inclined her head, still waiting for the point to the conversation. “We’re trying things out again. No promises.”

He pursed his lips and exhaled some smoke, making sure it was off to the side, but the wind still caught it and wafted the smoke back to her. She coughed, having never liked the smell of cigars, even when her father smoked them.

He apologized and tapped it out in the complimentary ashtray on the table between their chairs. “My wife hates these things. She won’t even let me smoke them outside our house, hates the smell on my clothes. It’s my one vice from before the heart attack. I had hoped the sea air would minimize the smell.”

“My mother never liked them either.” Delaney lifted her chin. “What do you want, William?”

He smiled. “Getting right to the point, eh? Good. I like that. I never thanked you for paying back what your father stole from us, did I?” At her surprised look, he nodded. “You didn’t think I knew it was you, did you? I know you’ve been paying back the people you can from your own salary. Oh, yes, I’ve kept tabs on you.”

“To make sure I’m nowhere near your son.” Bitterness tinged her words.

“That too. But you were like a daughter to me.”

“Then I feel sorry for your daughter, Samantha, if you treat her like you treated me,” she replied dryly.

“You’re not married, are you? But you know Kira. Forgive me if I try to make my life a little easier. She can be, how shall we say it, vehement in her beliefs. But I think you already know that. I hear she has made your life difficult. She has a talent for that and, I admit, I try to keep the peace for my sake.”

His smile was a little sad, but Delaney had known him for far too long to be deceived. Instead of replying, she braced herself for the next line of attack. She didn’t have to wait long.

After a brief pause, he continued. “I heard Ethan tell you he was coming back to work for me. I believe I have you to thank for that.”

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