Page 63 of The Truth of Us

I looked down at our joined hands. “Because of Mom?”

“Because of me,” he corrected gently. “Your mother did not ask me to give anything up. She never would have. That was the point. The life they wanted for me had never been mine. I just hadn’t realized it until she showed me who I was without it.”

“And Grandfather gave you an ultimatum.”

My father’s mouth tightened faintly. “He gave me several.”

I knew the bones of it. Everyone did if they knew where to look. Alexander Montgomery, the golden son of one of the most powerful political families in America, had walked away from the future laid out for him before his life had even begun. He walked away from endorsements, donors, his father’s influence, his mother’s approval, the right kind of marriage to the right kind of woman.

For Sophie Lane. A schoolteacher’s daughter from Vermont with ink on her fingers and absolutely no interest in being polished into something acceptable.

“What did he say?” I asked.

My father was quiet for a moment. Then, “That I would regret choosing her.”

My stomach twisted, but I asked anyway, “What did you say?”

He looked down at me. The firelight caught in his eyes, and for a second I could see the younger man he must have been. The one who had stood at the edge of everything he knew and chosen love, anyway.

“I told him I would regret losing her far more.”

Tears burned my eyes again. I blinked them back, but one fell anyway. My father brushed it away with his thumb.

“He cut you off.” I added, not wanting the story to end.

“For six years.”

“Until Will was born.” I asked.

His smile broke a little. “Yes.”

The room shifted around that name. It always did. My brother existed in our house like light through stained glass. Everywhere. Beautiful, untouchable, and changed by the way you looked at it.

“They came back because of him,” I said softly.

“They tried,” my father corrected.

I looked up. His expression had changed, still loving, but harder now. More like the Alexander Montgomery the world knew.

“My family did what families like ours do. They tried to reclaim what looked valuable.”

“Will,” I whispered.

“And you, after you were born.”

My stomach tightened. “What did Mom say?”

At that, his smile returned. “Your mother became absolutely feral.”

I laughed through the tears. “She did?”

“Oh, Harper.” He shook his head. “You think I am protective? I was an amateur compared to Sophie Lane Montgomery when someone threatened her children.”

Something warm moved through my chest. Memories. My mother kneeling to button my coat, wiping jam from Will’s face with her thumb, laughing in the garden and then my mother’s hand holding mine too tightly when camera flashes went off.

“She told my father,” he continued, “You had a son and treated him like an asset. I have children, and I will not let you make them into one.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I could hear her saying it. Could feel the strength of her in the room.