Page 49 of Broken Vows
A plan immediately starts forming in my head—one that was already there, but I quickly rearrange the schedule, moving everything forward a couple of weeks. I step towardher, ignoring the shadow behind the window as I reach up, cupping her chin. “You trust me?”
She doesn’t give me an off-the-cuff answer, her lashes lowering to shield her eyes as she seriously considers the question. Finally, she blows out a quiet breath, her head lifting and her blue eyes clashing with mine.
“Yes. I do.”
I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth, my thumb stroking over the silky softness of her skin. “Attagirl.” The softest pink fills her cheeks, giving her a sun-kissed glow.
I like that.I like having that kind of effect on her.
“You’re gonna get in the car with the kids,” I tell her. “And you’re gonna follow me. Okay?”
She blinks, looking a little dazed as my thumb lifts to trace over her pillowy bottom lip. “W-Where are we going?”
“That’s where the trust comes in, darling,” I tell her. “You just have to lean into it.”
She tilts her head back, her eyes bouncing between mine as if gauging the honesty of my words. I don’t blame her. Not after what she’s been through. Even if she does trust me, there are going to be moments of doubt and hesitation.
“Okay,” she says after a moment, resolution coloring her words. “I’m leaning in.”
Chapter 21
Lynley
Ifollow behind Grafton’s SUV with no idea of where we’re headed, and I wonder what I’m risking by putting so much trust in him—someone I haven’t known for very long.
It had been instinct, calling him the way I had and asking for help, especially after I’d registered the lack of surprise on my mother’s face. I’m not sure if she knew everything Caroline and Christopher had done, but she knew enough.
And she still took Caroline’s side.
The pain is a constant throb, confusion at how my own mother could do this to me battling alongside it. But I force it back, knowing I can’t let the kids see how badly I’m hurting. I’ll have time to fall apart later, after I find a place for us to stay, and they’re both asleep.
The kids are buckled in the back seat, both still grumbling over our quick departure from my mother’s. I can’t stop the doubts coursing through me, terrified that every move I’m making is wrong. For too long, I’ve ignored my gut instincts about my husband. I saw the signs, thewarnings, but I pretended I didn’t, desperate to try to hold my family together.But at what cost?
The day I woke up and didn’t recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror, seeing the hopeless look in my own eyes, I knew I’d taken the wrong path. In my misguided attempt to protect our lives, I lost parts of myself, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get them back.
Pulling my attention back to the road, I tighten my hands around the steering wheel, disquiet rising as I consider if I’m making another mistake by putting my trust in Grafton.
But it doesn’t feel the same with him. It’s been such a short time, but he doesn’t feel like a stranger. His help has come without conditions or expectations, and his words have felt nothing but honest. Nothing about him has my instincts flaring in warning. Not like they have been with Christopher.
And I refuse to let Christopher take anything else from me.I need to trust myself again, and I think that might happen by putting my faith in Grafton. I don’t need him to rescue me. But it feels nice to know that someone is on my side, fighting in my corner, especially when every other person in my life has let me down.
“Mom, where are we going?” Mase complains from the back seat, and I look at him in the rearview mirror, catching the scowl he’s pointing at me.
“I’m not actually sure,” I admit. “Grafton has a surprise for us, I think.”
Ginny crosses her arms over her chest, face aimed at the window. “I don’t even know who he is. I wanna go home. And not to Nanny’s. I wanna go tomyhome.” Even from here, I can see the way her eyes glimmer wetly, and something pinches in my chest.
“I know, Ginny,” is all I say. And I don’t know if they can sense the weariness in my voice, but neither says another word.
We drive through the town center of Sterling Creek, Grafton keeping his speed to a couple of miles below the limit, clearly making it as easy as possible for me to follow him. As we leave the urban area, the houses start spreading out, the properties getting larger and less clustered. After a couple more minutes, he turns down into a long, winding driveway, each side lined with huge cherry blossoms.
“Wow!” Ginny gasps, her nose pressed to the glass. “Look at the flowers!”
I lean forward, peering up the branches arching overhead, watching as a slight breeze shakes the trees, sending pink petals floating to the ground.
“It’s like pink snow!” she says.
Mase grunts, unimpressed, but my attention is stolen by the massive house that rises proudly at the end of the driveway. It’s a sprawling two-story Colonial, built with whitewashed brick and a slate-gray roof, with blue shutters on the windows. There’s a wraparound porch framed by white concrete pillars, and I can imagine sitting on a swing seat out there, drinking iced tea as I watch the kids play. It’s timeless and beautiful—something I’d expect to see on a postcard.
