She smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”
The truth was, it didn’t matter his age. Gavin was all man.
“I’m actually more curious to hear your thoughts,” I admitted. “Now that you’ve met him, what do you think?”
“I think he’s a good man. He’s smart. Driven. A good businessperson. And he obviously cares for you.”
“But?” I raised my eyebrows.
“But . . . I wonder if you think he’ll be there for you. Sometimes, in the beginning, it’s hard to tell things like that. And a man with so many interests, so much money, can can he be counted on in good times and bad?”
“I think so,” I said, suddenly filled with apprehension.
My mother shook her head. “That’s not good enough, sweets.”
“Where is this coming from?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
She let out a deep breath. “Did you ever wonder why your parents were so much older than everyone else’s?”
My frown deepened. My mother had been forty when I was born. “Truthfully? I guessed I was an accident. Not in a bad way, but like a surprise.”
My mother tilted her head to the side, looking at me with a new kind of softness in her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head. “No, not at all. I never told you everything, really. That’s the way of it with mothers. We don’t want to burden our children with our own pain, but maybe it’s time I told you the whole story.”
A pause lingered in the air, and she took a sip of her tea before spreading her hands wide on the frilly tablecloth.
“Your father and I married when we were eighteen. We were stupid and in love, and back then, college wasn’t as important as it is today. We worked our menial jobs, and your father supported me while I went back to school to become a teacher.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“But what you don’t know is, hard as all that was, we were struggling with something else. See, the thing we wanted most of all was a baby. We tried and tried. I had five miscarriages in a ten-year period. And then, well, when we turned thirty, we decided it was time to stop trying. I tried to move on. Tried to feel fulfilled with my job and my life as it was. After all, lots of people choose not to have children, right?”
Her sad smile broke my heart as she continued. “But I got depressed. Not the blues, or feeling low, but the kind of depression where you can’t get out of bed or think of a reason to bother brushing your hair.”
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered, taking her hand in mine, and she rolled her thumb absently over the back of it.
“And you know what? Your father was my rock. He stood with me that year, never once wavering. Not when I lost my job because of it, not when I broke down or took it out on him. He stayed and we got through it. Eventually, we found our happiness together.” Her lips trembled into a smile. “So, when I was forty and got pregnant with you? You were our miracle, Emma. Never, ever an accident. But the important part of this particular story is, if it never happened? If we’d never been blessed with having you? That strife, those dark times, they let me know in my heart that I had the right man.”
“That’s beautiful,” I said, tears pricking my eyes.
She shook her head. “It’s what it should be. So, my question to you is this, my sweet daughter. Whatever life throws at you—the pain and the heartache and the joys—is this the person you want by your side?”
My answer came to me without hesitation. “He’s the one, Mom. I know it.”
I only hoped he felt the same.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gavin
“We’ve got a problem,” Quinn barked, shoving through the door as he let himself inside my office.
For fuck’s sake. I pushed away from my laptop, readying myself for the latest catastrophe. “What now?”
We’d had a string of problems to sort through lately, and I’d hoped our troubles were over. Maybe it was all part of being a Kingsley. Shit, maybe we were cursed.
Quinn released a tired groan and dropped into the leather chair opposite me. He was two years older than me, but somehow managed to seem both older and younger at once. He was experienced and wise, and when he spoke, men listened. But at the same time, he’d never really been in a relationship, had never even come close to settling down, so he still maintained that sort of bachelor’s immaturity.
“Cooper’s gone again.”
Jesus. I pinched the bridge of my nose, suddenly tired. Cooper had taken off for a while, trying to find himself, whatever that meant. But he’d come back, still not sure where he was going to settle. I knew he’d be moving and soon, but his disappearing act was getting old. I was used to predictability, and this was anything but business as usual.
“One of us needs to go after him, and I think it should be you, for obvious reasons.”
“Me?” I let out a grunt of surprise. Quinn’s reasons were far from obvious to me.
“Yes. You.”
“I have no patience for his drama. I got the girl. End of story. He needs to man up.”
Honestly, I thought we’d covered all this, thought we’d worked through this that evening at Quinn’s when Emma disappeared into the library to let him down easy. Of course, I should have known it would never be that simple. Real life was often messy—I knew that better than anyone.
“How would you feel if the tables were turned? If Cooper was with Emma right now, and you were the odd man out?”
Strange. That was a notion I’d never even considered.
“I sure as hell wouldn’t be off somewhere hiding, licking my wounds.” I scoffed. “I’d be here—where I’m needed—working.”
“Yes, you would. But you’d be a surly son of bitch and a nightmare to deal with. And we both know it.”
There was no arguing with Quinn. Plus, there was a tiny chance that he might be right. Which I hated.
“My point is that everyone handles things differently. If you could put yourself in his shoes for just a moment, you’d understand how incredibly difficult it must be for him to see you and Emma together. And asking him to stay with her while you were out of town?” Quinn made a low noise of disapproval in his throat and shook his head. “That was fucked up, bro.”
Then why did you fucking suggest it, asshole? Anger bubbled up inside me, but it was clear this was not the time to argue.
Now I was the one releasing a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I’ll go after him. Where is he?”
“New York.”
• • •
Pleased that I was able to get the jet on short notice, I’d headed to New York for the evening. Emma had gone to visit her parents’ home for the night a couple of hours away, which meant I didn’t have to worry about leaving her unattended. I had a nagging feeling that the mess she’d found herself in wasn’t quite over yet. But I’d have to deal with that later.
Quinn had told me that Cooper had checked himself into the swanky Lancaster hotel in the heart of the city. When I got to reception and learned he’d booked himself the presidential suite—on the company credit card—my blood pressure skyrocketed, but I promised myself I wouldn’t deck the son of a bitch upon entry.
When I knocked, Cooper took his time, the door only finally opening several minutes later. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants, the cashmere ones that Quinn had gotten him the Christmas before, and a wrinkled black T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved in days, his hair was a mess, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’d opted out of showering these past few days. Nice.
“You look like shit.” I pushed past him, letting myself inside.
“Hello, brother dearest.”
Noting his monotone voice, I wondered if he’d fought Quinn over the idea of my visit. Probably.
“Get dressed,” I said. “We’re going to dinner.”
Cooper dropped onto the plush sofa. “No thanks. I’d rather stay in.”
This was going well. My gaze scanned the suite, zeroing in on a glass bar cart at the far end of the living area. The crystal decanter of bourbon was calling to me.
Pouring myself a measure, I ignored his pointed stare and the anger I could feel rolling off him in waves.