Page 102 of Mom Com

I know this must all come as a shock, and I know what you’re probably thinking, that I’m attempting to repay you for saving the bakery. But no. It’s something much simpler than that and much more important. You’ve been a true friend to me, and I like to think I’ve been one to you. It’s my parting wish to give you the one thing I think you need—a chance to tell the truth. I don’t know what you’ll do with it, but I do hope you’ll make it count. Trust me on this; life is short and it’s precious and you don’t want to look back one day like I am now and realize it could have been different.

Be well, my son,

Charles

I look up at Wilder, stunned into silence, and return his letter, my hand unsteady. My dad wanted to give Wilder a chance to tell me the truth? That’s why he stuck us in that bakery together, figuring eventually we’d have to talk about it?

I take a deep breath, running my hands over my face. This, of all things, was not what I was expecting. Did Dad know how badly I needed this? But the answer is obvious. Of course he knew—he orchestrated an elaborate plot just to give me the opportunity to heal. And the thought makes my chest rise and fall a little faster. Whatever doubts I had about my relationship with my father are suddenly gone; he wanted me to be happy.

“I know I’ve botched this,” Wilder starts. “And that I made you feel like I was keeping things from you. But I don’t want you to think those things were motivated by my feelings for Kate or that I was in any way trying to keep her on the line. Kate and I were bad for each other. We were the same kind of broken, trading in our own happiness for our families’ wants, and we bonded over it. But we never had that connection, the thing that makes things more. She’s likely more bothered that I embarrassed her than she is that our relationship ended.” He takes a breath. “And my mother? She wants me to fit into her image of what a Buenaventura should be, willing to sacrifice my happiness to do it. It just took me a long time to see that, or maybe to accept it. After that party last night, I realized there was no appeasing her unless I let her direct the entirety of my life—my job, my marriage, even my interests—which I’m not going to do.”

I remember what Liv said about Wilder always trying to get his mother’s attention, fighting for her love. And for a second, I want to reach out to him, place my hand on his arm in a comforting way. It never occurred to me how much of a struggle this whole addendum business has been for him.

“I’m not...” I say, flustered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I know it’s a lot. And I know you must be reeling. I’m just relieved you gave me a chance to explain. After last night, I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again.”

I open my mouth and close it. My world has tilted too many times in this conversation for me to even know how to proceed. “Which is why you were going to fly to LA?” I’m not even sure why I say it, maybe because I want it to be true, or maybe because for once I really want to know what it is that exists between us, for better or for worse.

“Yes,” he says, looking at me like he’s never been more serious. “I should have gone years ago. Hell, I should have gone after you the moment I realized you’d left.”

“Wilder—” I start and stop, breaking eye contact with him.

“I knew if I showed up in LA all those years ago that I probably wouldn’t leave, that I’d stay there with you and the baby.” He laughs a sad laugh. “If you can believe it, I was jealous at the time because Spence wasn’t mine. Still am.”

My heart misses a beat. Wilder wishes he was Spence’s father?

“But if I had gone to LA, my mother would have destroyed your dad’s bakery, probably burned down the town in some misguided effort to get me back. I thought you’d hate me if you knew the truth. I hated myself. But now? No hesitation. If you and Spence would have me, I’d follow you to the end of the earth.”

My heart pounds inside my chest, sloppy and far too loud. The fact that he included my son, that he recognizes I put him first, means more to me than I could ever say. I search for words, for any response that makes sense, but nothing comes.

And he’s not done. “Your father and the bakery helped me find myself when I was lost, helped show me what I truly want.”

He smiles at me, and I feel it move through me like electricity. His waves fall lightly on his forehead, and his eyes stare intently into my own. But I don’t get up the way I thought I would. I just stare right back at him, letting him know I’m listening, that this is important to me, too.

He glances briefly at the living room. “That’s when I started building this house.”

Bright specks of light form in front of my eyes. “Hang on... youbuiltthis?”

He nods, the same uncertainty from when I first arrived reappearing on his face. “Had the stone shipped over from the UK.”

I immediately try to convince myself that this isn’t really happening. He didn’t build it because of me. He just stole my very good idea. Or maybe he became attached to the architecture in England and decided to flaunt his wealth by literally shipping it across an ocean? He probably doesn’t even remember that conversation we had on the bench all those years ago.

“Why would you do that?”

The smile that appears on his face is gentle, a fragile thing that embodies far too much hope. “I thought that’d be obvious.” His eyes meet mine. “When I designed it, everyone assumed that I missed England,” he says, pausing. “But really, I missed you.”

My breath screeches to a stop, my body temperature shooting up a thousand degrees. This isn’t a situation I was prepared for. This isn’t a situation anyone is prepared for. Who would ever predict that their first love and mortal enemy would build their dream house? Just the mere thought makes me faint. I touch my forehead, begging my body to settle down so that I can make sense of it all.

“I built this place for you, Maddi, because I wanted you to have a piece of your dream,” he continues, and my heart takes one final beat before it nosedives into his atmosphere, positive I’ll knock myself out when I hit land and not really caring.

I feel my eyes welling before I can stop them, feel my whole heart lifting in a standing ovation. “Wilder...” I start, truly moved. “It’s beautiful. It’s more than beautiful.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so bright that I lean closer.

“But how can I...” I trail off, not knowing how to accept something like this, to embrace a gesture this big.

“Slowly,” he says. “If you decide to give me the chance, we’ll go at your pace. Whatever you need. Even if what you need is to be somewhere other than Haverberry.”