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“I’m starting to doubt myself, you know.” She picked up another chopstick, dragged it through the food that still sat on the plate, untouched. “What if this is all some sort of cruel hoax? What if my mother slept with all sorts of men when she split from my father? Who knows who my father could be?”
“Your mother wouldn’t be so mean as to play such a hoax on you, Stasia. No matter what you think of her, no matter how badly the two of you are getting along at the moment, I don’t believe she would be that awful to you.”
“You’re right. She wouldn’t.” Stasia closed her eyes, leaned her head forward. “I’m so confused, so sick of this. I don’t know what to do anymore, what to say, what to think.”
“Don’t think.” He settled his hand on the back of her neck, his fingers gently pressing into her skin. “Relax tonight. Try not to let it all get to you.”
“Too late.” It would forever get to her. Didn’t he see this?
“I didn’t get along with my mother either,” Gavin said, his tone casual.
She stiffened beneath his touch. It wasn’t like Gavin to share personal information. “What about your father?”
“He was never in my life. I…I don’t really know who he is.” Gavin started massaging her in earnest, his fingers working magic on the tight knots in her neck. The tension slowly ebbed as he rubbed and prodded and she relaxed her shoulders, kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the way he touched her.
The way he made her feel.
“Why didn’t you get along with your mother?”
“Our life was…nothing like yours. I grew up poor. My mom worked dead-end jobs or didn’t work much at all. And I was a pain in her ass, especially when I was a teenager. I did things I shouldn’t have. I stole things. I did drugs. I was your stereotypical teenage troublemaker.”
Shock coursed through her. She couldn’t imagine Gavin as a stealing, drug-taking teen. That he’d
cleaned up his life so completely was admirable. “You probably think I’m a spoiled little girl constantly having fits.” Embarrassment filled her. Her behavior bordered on the ridiculous. Gavin had grown up with nothing and made something of himself when he could’ve ended up a complete mess. She’d been handed everything and now that it was taken away from her, she stomped her foot and expected immediate action.
“I don’t. You’re upset. Your reactions are valid.” He smoothed his fingers down her nape with the gentlest of touches, sending gooseflesh scattering all over her skin. “You need to be strong and stand up for what you believe in.”
“It’s so hard,” she admitted, hanging her head low.
“Remind yourself that you have your brothers. The Renaldis.” When she was about to protest, he cut her off. “You do. Don’t deny it. Maybe you should reach out to your mom too. You’re both hurt and lashing out because of it. Don’t make the mistake I did,” Gavin said softly.
Stasia turned to look at him, her breath lodging in her throat at the sincerity in his expression, the worry shining in his gaze. “What mistake was that?”
“Once I became busy with my own life, I rarely saw my mom. I didn’t make enough time for her and then I lost her forever.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, his fingers stroking her skin. “You’ll regret it.”
Her throat ached with emotion and she swallowed it down, leaning into his touch. He understood her and that meant the world to her. “You’re right,” she whispered.
“You should take a bath,” he murmured. “It’ll relax you.”
“That sounds nice.” She was tired. The last week’s events—heck, the last month’s events—were catching up with her, sending her straight into exhaustion. “I might fall asleep in the tub, though.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t. Come on.” He reached for her arm, helped her stand. She leaned against him, thankful for his strength, for the way he took control of things when she didn’t want to deal with any of it. “Let’s get your tub started and you can strip.”
“You’re just doing this so you can see me naked,” she mumbled as he led her down the hall toward his bedroom and master bathroom.
He chuckled, the sound reverberating from his chest, against her ear her where she leaned her head. “You caught me. I’m nothing but a pervert.”
“I happen to like perverts.” She liked this particular one especially.
“Then I can happily oblige.” With a tug of his hand, he pulled her into the bathroom. She stopped and looked around, impressed by the completely enclosed glass and tile shower, the separate tub with jets. It was a huge bathroom with double sinks, plenty of cabinet space. A bathroom made for a couple.
She frowned, wondered if he’d lived with another woman before. He was a self-admitted workaholic, but then again, so was she. And she hadn’t let that tiny flaw stop her from having relationships in the past.
“This bathroom is amazing,” she said, glancing around as he turned on the tub, ran his hand under the stream of water to test the temperature. “It’s so big.”
“I know. The shower is great. Lots of room. I hate tiny showers.” He grabbed a bottle of something and poured it into the tub. The soothing scent of lavender and vanilla slowly permeated the room, and she wondered where it came from.
“Then you probably hated the shower at the guest house.” It was a narrow box of a shower, but the building was old, the tile intricate and rare. Her family hadn’t the heart to tear it all out and redo it.
