Текст книги "Crazy Ever After"

Автор книги: Kelly Jamieson

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Fourteen

All through dinner with her mother, Samara kept trying to find the words to broach the subject of her epic screw-up, but the moment never seemed quite right. Her mother chatted on about all kinds of things and asked questions about work, and there never was quite the right lead in. Samara could barely swallow food, her stomach was so tight.

After they’d eaten, Mom said, “I guess I should start going through Parker’s clothes.” Her gaze lowered to the plate she carried to the kitchen. “I don’t know what to do with it all.”

“Um. I guess you could donate it.”

“Yes. That’s better than throwing it all out.”

Oh Godfrey, that wasn’t going to be a fun task. Samara’s stomach tightened even more. “I’ll help you,” she said, then almost covered her mouth with her hand. Where the hell had that come from? The last thing she wanted to do was haul all her father’s belongings out of the house. Because never mind the funeral, when they got rid of all his things, that really meant he was never coming back. Her throat constricted.

“Oh, thank you.” The relief in her mother’s voice made her sigh inwardly. Too late now to back out of her impulsive offer. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

Upstairs, in the big walk-in closet, Samara wasn’t sure where to start either. She stood there taking inventory, nibbling on her bottom lip. Mom reached for some shirts and pulled them down, and then, to Samara’s horror, with a small choked noise she sank to the floor, holding an arm full of shirts. Tears streamed down her face.

Good Godfrey, Samara wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her mother cry. She might not be the most independent woman in the world, but she’d always had a certain inner strength, and Samara stared at her open-mouthed, her own stomach doing flip flops. “Mom,” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside her mother. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” her mother sobbed. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, but it’s not okay.”

Her heart squeezing so hard she could barely breathe, Samara wrapped her arms around her mom and hugged her. Past hurts and stupid mistakes fell away and all she knew at that moment was that this was her mother, and she loved her, and she couldn’t frickin’ stand to see her like this.

“I’m here, Mom,” she whispered, rocking her mom a little, both of them sitting there on the closet floor. “I’m here.” Her own tears dampened her mother’s hair where she pressed her face and they sat there for long moments, just holding each other. “It’ll be okay.”

After a while, Mom drew back. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, wiping her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“It’s okay, Mom. It’s understandable. You’ve been holding it together for days.”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t we do this some other time?” Samara suggested, rising and holding out a hand to her mom. Mom took it and stood too. “There’s no rush to do this.”

“I guess there isn’t.” Mom let out a soft exhalation. “I’m so tired.”

“Go lie down. Come on.” Samara led her mom to the bed and pulled back the duvet. While her mom slid into bed, she hurried to the en suite bathroom and filled a glass full of cold water. “Here.”

Her mom drank some of the water, set the glass on the bedside table and leaned back into the pillows, eyes closed. Her skin was so pale and thin, Samara could see the blue veins at her temples. She reached out and stroked her mom’s hair back. “Just rest, Mom.”

“Thank you, Sam. I’m glad you’re here.”

Samara sucked briefly on her quivering bottom lip before letting herself out of her mom’s bedroom and returning to her own with a heavy, aching heart.

* * *

Travis got home late, starving and hoping he could find something to eat. He went up to his room to change first, passing by Samara’s closed bedroom door. His gut tightened.

Yeah, he’d slept with her.

Christ. He rubbed his eyes and entered his room. He’d had a helluva time concentrating on work all day, thinking about being with her last night. Also thinking about what a fuckup it was that she’d thought all these years that he and Dayna had had an affair. Good god, that was preposterous.

He knew what she’d overheard that day. He remembered that conversation with painful clarity and how confused and conflicted he’d been about what he’d discovered. And the mess he’d made of it. But there was no way he could tell Samara the truth. Luckily, she seemed to believe him that he and Dayna had never been involved that way. He groaned out loud as he stripped off his dress shirt and dropped it onto the chair in the corner of the room.

She had to talk to her mother. That wasn’t going to be easy for her. Stubborn, proud Samara who never liked to be wrong. Holy crap, had she been wrong. He went from being so pissed off at her for being that stupid he wanted to turn her over his lap and spank her pretty little ass, to aching for the hurt she and her mother had both experienced.

He found a pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt. His wardrobe was severely limited. He hadn’t actually anticipated staying this long in Portland. He was going to have get back to Los Angeles and take care of things there if he was going to make this move permanent. Dammit, he had a lot on his plate just then.

Including a hot and sexy woman who’d reappeared in his life. Or maybe she’d always been there.

He paused at her door and knocked.

“Come in.”

He opened the door and slid in, closing the door behind him. She sat on her bed with a laptop open on her legs. Her eyes widened and she snapped the computer closed, then smiled. “Hey. You’re home.”

“I am. Did you eat already?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to find something too. Want to come down and sit with me?”

Her face lit up with a subtle glow, and a small smile that pleased him. “Sure.” She set the laptop on the bed then slid her legs over the side and stood. She too wore shorts, short ones that showed her gorgeous legs, and a tiny T-shirt. She’d pulled her hair back loosely and had it fastened in some kind of knot on the back of her head, but auburn pieces fell out all around her face and the soft nape of her neck in a sexy mess.

In the kitchen, when he opened the fridge, he found a plate covered with plastic wrap and a sticky note on it that said, Travis – microwave for three minutes. He grinned. “Ava is a goddess.”

Samara sat on a stool at the counter while he heated his meal, then he joined her there to eat, and they talked, about work and his appointment with Wade. “Even though your dad had a will,” he said, “it’s going to be a long complicated process. Mostly because of the size of the estate.”

“Great.” She sighed. “That’s just depressing.”

“You want those shares, don’t you?” He was sort of teasing but regretted it when he saw the shadow that passed over her face.

“I’d rather have my dad back,” she said quietly, looking down at her fingers linked together on the granite counter.

He reached out and rubbed her back. He had to remember what she’d just been through, was still going through. Both of them actually, grieving for the man who’d been so important to both of them.

“Where’s your mom?” he asked.

“She’s upstairs. We started going through Dad’s clothes.” Sam’s voice thickened. “She had a little meltdown. I told her not to worry about it right now. That can be done later. I got her to lie down for a while. I think it’s starting to really hit her.”

She’d been helping her mother. Something hot and soft expanded in his chest. There’d been a lot of years of hurt and anger, but the fact that Samara had been there for her mother made his heart trip a little. He continued his slow strokes up and down her back, then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. You know that.”

“Yes.”

She turned her face toward him and found his mouth with hers, and they kissed, a long, soft, clinging kiss.

“When are you going to talk to her?” he asked.

She pulled back and gave him a look, her head tilted to one side, lips pursed.

“What?” he asked.

“You didn’t order me to talk to her,” she said slowly.

“Uh...”

“Usually you’re all bossing me around. Telling me what to do. But this time, you assumed I would talk to her and you just asked when that would be.”

He pressed his lips together briefly and nodded. “Yep.”

She threw herself into his arms and covered his face with kisses. “God that makes me hot for you,” she breathed. “Take me upstairs. Now.”

Whoa! He had definitely been using the wrong strategy. He caught her body in his hands and then wrapped his arms around her, crushing her up against him, their mouths fused in a long hot kiss. “Okay,” he gasped a long moment later. “I guess I’m done eating.”

In her room, they once again reached for each other with frantic hands, finding zippers and buttons, yanking T-shirts off. When she was down to her bra and panties, he shoved her up against the wall beside her door and kissed her again. He thrust a hand into her hair, into that messy knot, and cupped one breast with his other hand, his body pressing against hers. She moaned, and the sound inflamed his senses.

He wanted her, wanted to be deep inside her, making her his. He wanted to come inside her, to make her come. His mouth slid across her jaw, found the soft skin of her neck and opened on her there, using his teeth, licking her. Her head tipped sideways, and she made another hot breathy sound that shot straight to his dick.

He breathed in the scent of her, that vanilla scent that filled his senses, and took her mouth again with his, sliding his tongue inside and tasting her essence, so sweet. She sucked on his tongue, so gently, and his dick twitched again, hard, between their bodies. On and on the kiss went until he pulled back, breathing hard. He looked down at her, at the tiny low-cut cups of her white bra revealing the softest curves and a small brown mole on the upper curve of one breast. He sucked in air as he leaned back, his gaze tracking down over her narrow torso down to the edge of little white bikini panties.

“Christ, Samara,” he groaned. “I want you so damn bad.”

“You have me,” she whispered, linking her arms around his neck.

He left her briefly to retrieve a condom from the table beside her bed where he’d left a stash and rolled it onto his throbbing cock as he strode back across the room. She reached behind her and unfastened her bra then dropped it to the floor and leaned against the wall, eyes heavy-lidded, her bottom lip swollen and shiny, her hair falling all down around her shoulders. Fucking beautiful.

He went to his knees in front of her, and she gasped. He hooked his fingers into her panties and started dragging them off, down one hip, then the other. She bent her knees and lifted her feet, one at a time, and he tossed the scrap of cotton and lace aside. He gazed at her for a moment, at her slender thighs and the tiny patch of dark auburn curls right where they joined, and then he pressed his face there and breathed in the feminine scent of her. Sweet Jesus, it was good, so good. It filled his head and made him insane with lust.

“Travis,” she whispered, her fingers sifting through his hair, making his entire body tingle.

He parted her thighs and pressed his tongue into her sweet center, licking her, tasting her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she whimpered and tipped her pelvis just a little, giving him access. He stroked his tongue over her soft folds, probed inside her, and made her gasp. She spread her legs a little more, and he slipped his hand between her thighs and pushed his fingers up into her, so wet, so hot, his tongue still working.

“Oh god,” she whispered. “Oh, Travis.”

Oh yeah. He wanted to make her come like this, in his mouth, filling him with her sweet cream. He loved her little panting noises, the way her thighs tightened and her fingers tugged at his hair. His cock swelled even more, his balls tightening.

“Come for me, Sam,” he murmured. He flicked his tongue over her clit, pressed his fingers deeper inside her, and felt her clamp around him. On and on, he licked and fucked her with his fingers, pleasuring her, her body tightening and quivering, her sighs getting louder and quicker.

“So good,” she whispered.

Yeah. So good. He wanted to make her feel good, and he closed his lips around her swollen little clit and sucked.

She cried out then and covered her own mouth with her hand, muffling the sounds of her release as her body tightened on his fingers, her clit stiffening beneath his tongue, coming and coming.

“Oh man,” he groaned, lifting his mouth from her. He kissed her belly and rested his forehead there for a moment, his own breathing heavy. Then he straightened, took hold of his cock and found her entrance, thrusting up into her in one smooth fast move. She was wet, and soft, and pulsed around him.

“God,” she gasped, reaching for his shoulders.

He filled her with his cock and took her mouth with his, kissing her long and deep. She nipped at his lips, and he dragged his tongue over hers. Her pussy rippled around him with the last of her orgasm, and he surged up into her, pushing her up against the wall. He filled his hands with her breasts, so soft and warm, hard little nipples against his palms, then slid a hand down to her hip, her thigh, and lifted her leg up against his hip. She groaned into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Harder. Deeper. I love it.”

“Like this?” He gave a hard thrust up into her.

She let out a soft cry. “Yes.”

In and out he slid, up and down into her wet heat, losing himself in the pleasure of it, his tongue in her mouth, his cock in her pussy. Her soft skin rubbed against his, and heat spiraled through him, a hot coil of sensation. She grew even wetter around him, slick and tight, and tension built at the base of his spine.

He could tell himself a million times over they shouldn’t be doing this, but it couldn’t change how much he wanted it, how much he wanted her. It was crazy and foolish and absolutely amazing. She was amazing and drove him absolutely crazy. No woman had ever irritated, angered, and amused him as much as she did. No woman had ever turned him on like she did.

He fucked up into her with wild intensity, thumbing her nipple, cupping her breast, kissing her mouth. His balls tight with need, pressure built inside him so fast and hot he couldn’t stop it, and with one last hard thrust, he came inside her in long, almost painful, bursts. He swallowed her cry as she contracted hard around him, coming again, pinned up against the wall.

“God,” she gasped. “Oh my god, Travis.”

He became dimly aware of her fingernails biting into his shoulders and slowly releasing. His heart thudded, his head spun a little, and he leaned his forehead against the cool wall. Her mouth opened on his shoulder, and she gave him slow, sucking kisses there.

“Holy hell,” he muttered. He let her leg lower to the floor. They both trembled. “The bed.”

“I can’t move,” she said.

“I know. I know.” He slowly pulled out of her, holding the condom in place and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Hold on.” He got rid of the condom then swung her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

“I think I was too noisy,” she whispered as he carefully laid her down then stretched out beside her. “What if my mom heard?”

“I’m getting my own place.” He pulled her up against him. Their legs twined around each other automatically, body fitting against body, soft against hard. So damn good. He sighed. “If I’m staying in town, I need to find a place.”

She sighed too as she snuggled into him. “I guess that would be good.”

“You planning to stay here with your mom?”

She didn’t answer immediately. “I guess that depends on whether she kicks me out when I tell her how I screwed up.”

“I doubt if she’ll kick you out.”

She hitched one narrow shoulder. “You never know. I feel like throwing up just thinking about telling her. But I will. If she doesn’t want me to leave, then I guess...I kind of feel like I should stay. You know. Help her out a little.”

He smiled against her hair. “Yeah. I know.”

Something expanded in his chest, and he let out a long slow breath.

“Do you have a house in Los Angeles?” she asked, her fingers rubbing over his shoulder.

“Yeah. It’ll be easy to sell, though. I’ll find an apartment or something here, something I can get quick access to. What about you?”

“I have an apartment in San Francisco. It’s really small but kind of cute, and it’s in a nice area. I’ll miss it, a little.”

“You can get a place here one day.”

She leaned back to look at him. In the near-darkness, her eyes shimmered. “You seem to have accepted that I’m staying.”

He smiled. “I don’t really have any control over where you live, Samara.”

“True.”

“But I haven’t accepted that you’re taking over for Parker.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“But let’s leave business at the office,” he said. “You’re the one who said we could keep them separate.”

Her lips pouted for a moment then relaxed. “What is it we’re keeping separate?”

“Business and...hot sex, according to you.”

She trailed a finger down his chest. “You didn’t think that was hot?”

“No.”

“What!”

“It wasn’t hot, honey.” He rolled her to her back and moved over her. “It was incendiary.”

“Oh. Mmmm.”

Chapter Fifteen

Samara braced herself for the conversation with her mother. She’d known this conversation was going to happen and had known how difficult it was going to be, but now that she knew there’d been no affair, it was going to be even harder to admit how stupid she’d been. She was looking forward to it about as much as she would to having her every hair on her body plucked out one by one.

Saturday seemed a good time, when neither of them were in a rush to go somewhere. They had all day to hide from each other if things got really ugly. She’d been about to tackle it last night and had sought out her mother in her bedroom, only to find her sobbing over Dad’s clothes. Yeah, not such a good time.

Even now, her stomach churned with the coffee she’d just had for breakfast, unable to face food.

When her mother came downstairs, Samara waited until she was seated in the breakfast room with her omelet, coffee and newspaper and wandered in.

“Oh, good morning, Samara.” Her mom’s smile actually hurt her. “What are you up to today?”

“I... um...need to do some shopping.”

Which wasn’t totally procrastinating on broaching the subject. It was true. She either needed to go home to San Francisco and pack some clothes or go on a major shopping trip if she was going to be staying in Portland for a while. There was no way she wanted to go all the way to San Francisco and back when she had so much work to do.

“Oh, let me take you shopping, Samara!” Her mother’s face brightened. “I’ll take you to that little shop I mentioned, and there are some sweet places right near there you’d like.”

“That’s okay,” Samara muttered. “I don’t want to spend all afternoon looking at clothes. I just want somewhere I can get in, buy a couple of suits, and get out.”

“Oh, please. It’ll be fun. I haven’t had my daughter around for so long to do that with. We used to have so much fun shopping together. Remember? I’ve missed that. And we could go out for lunch.”

The soft look in her mother’s eyes dented Samara’s resistance, and she let out a sigh. Yeah, she did remember the fun they’d used to have. “Fine. We’ll go shopping.” Over lunch would be a good time to talk.

In the first shop her mother dragged her into, she found enough items she liked—pretty little suits and blouses—that she could have been finished. Mom had been right about the shoes; they had gorgeous pumps and sandals. Seduced by silky fabrics and stiletto heels, Samara gave in to the experience and let her mother bring her outfit after outfit to try on.

“Oh, you look so beautiful in that,” she breathed, studying Samara in a silk dress. “You have to have that one.”

“I can’t afford all these, Mom.”

“I’ll buy it for you. I’ll buy everything for you.”

Samara’s insides tightened. It had been so long it was hard to get over the idea that she didn’t want anything from her mother, but guilt and remorse ate away at her resistance, and she found herself sighing yet again and agreeing. Strangely, the pleasure her mother seemed to get from it actually made her feel...good.

She left the store loaded down with garment bags and shoe boxes that they loaded into the trunk of her mother’s Lexus.

“We can drive to the next store,” Mom said, hopping into the driver’s seat. “It’s not far but too far to walk.”

“I don’t need to go anywhere else, Mom, I got enough stuff there.”

“But this other place has gorgeous designer jeans.”

“I have a pair of jeans.”

Mom slanted her a sideways glance as she accelerated up Market Street. “You can always use another nice pair of jeans.”

Samara couldn’t help the smile. “Fine. Are you going to buy anything for yourself?”

Her mother lifted a shoulder. “Probably not. There’s not really anything I need. This is your shopping trip.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

Mom smiled. “Yes. I am. Is there something wrong with that? I have a beautiful daughter, and I’ve missed spoiling you the last few years.” Her voice caught on her last words, and she swallowed and stared straight ahead out the window.

Spoiling you. Samara recalled Travis’s assertion that she was spoiled rotten. Maybe she had been. But that was a long time ago, and she’d been independent and on her own for a long time.

“You should buy yourself something nice too,” Samara choked out, that guilt chewing away at her insides. “A new pair of shoes or something.”

“Maybe.”

Two pairs of jeans, three trendy little tops and two pairs of shoes later, they walked into a lingerie store.

“Mom, I don’t need this kind of stuff!” Samara glanced around at the abundance of satin and lace displayed on hangers and counters.

“It’s underwear, Samara. If you only planned to stay for a few days, you must need underwear.”

“Well...” Samara blew out a breath. Okay, yeah, some panties and a couple of bras would be good. But lord, she didn’t need a freakin’ black velvet corset or silky nightgown.

But a silky nightgown was what she ended up with, thanks to her mother, along with a cute pair of plaid shorts and matching tank top that served as pajamas and a pile of silky thongs, lace boy shorts and matching bras in yellow, peach, and turquoise. As she held up each little garment, she couldn’t help but wonder what Travis would think. Her stomach swooped, imagining him removing the little turquoise thong panties and matching lace bra from her body...

“Samara?”

She blinked at her mother.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, her forehead creasing. “I just asked you twice if you’re ready to have lunch.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh. Um. Sorry. I was thinking about...work.”

Mom gave her an odd look. “Let’s have lunch now,” she said. “I know just the place.”

They walked to the restaurant, only two blocks away. The small place was nearly full, and a delicious aroma of dark roasted coffee and toasted bread greeting them as they walked in. Trust her mother to pick a place that served great coffee. Samara could tell just from the smell.

They were shown to one of the last tables, a small one for two in the middle of the restaurant.

Samara waited until they’d almost finished eating before bringing up the subject she needed to. She’d procrastinated long enough. It wasn’t going to get any easier.

“Mom.”

“Mmm?”

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it, sweetie?”

Samara looked down at her half-eaten salad. “I– I screwed up really bad. And I have to apologize.”

Her mother’s forehead wrinkled. “What is it?”

Samara drew in a long slow breath. “When I left home seven years ago, I left because I was mad at you.”

Mom went very still. “We’re going to do this now?” She looked down at the table and gave a short nod. “Okay. Obviously you were mad. You didn’t even want to talk to me.” Her voice cracked. “I never knew what I did that made you so angry.”

Mom had tried calling, emailing, had even come with Dad once to visit her. Guilt struck another heavy blow at Samara. She couldn’t think of any soft way to say it, so she just blurted it out. “I thought you were having an affair with Travis.”

Her mom stared wide-eyed across the table at her. The noises of the restaurant—chattering voices, clinking cutlery, light music—filled the silence between them. Mom’s brows drew down. “Travis? An affair with Travis? Why on earth would you think that?”

“I overheard you two talking one day. It was just after...oh, god, this is so embarrassing.”

Mom said nothing, her mouth pressed into a firm line, but her expression told Samara to keep going.

“I had a big crush on Travis back then,” she confessed, nearly choking on the words. She studied her mom’s expression. Had she known that? “One night, I told him that. I kissed him. He...” He’d kissed her back. She’d never forget that. But... “He rejected me. Of course. Said I was too young for him.”

Still Mom said nothing, but her mouth softened.

“I was pretty devastated about that. I thought I was in love with him.”

“Oh, Samara.”

“Then a few days later, I overheard you and Travis talking about hurting Dad, and Travis was saying he was sorry...” She related the rest of what she’d heard.

Mom’s eyes closed, and she looked as if Samara had just picked up her fork and stabbed her with it. Her throat worked, and then she opened her eyes. “How could you think such a thing?”

“I was hurt. I was young. I was stupid. I don’t know.” She paused. “I guess I was just so hurt by his rejection that was the first thing I thought when I heard you talking, and I grabbed onto it and I...I felt like you’d stolen him away from me.”

Her mother’s eyes closed on a flash of pain that echoed in Samara’s chest.

“How could you think that?” Mom whispered. “That’s awful.”

“I know.” The words barely made it past her dry lips and painful throat. “But that was how I felt.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

“Travis told me it wasn’t true. And I knew I had to apologize for acting like such an idiot all these years. Oh, Mom.” Her voice fractured. “I’m so sorry.”

Her heart hurt so badly she could barely think straight. Her hands trembled as she waited for her mother to say something.

Her mother was silent for several agonizing moments before she spoke. “Seven years, Samara. You thought your heart was broken? Well, you broke mine. We were so close. I love you so much. Do you know how much it hurt me for you to turn away from me like that? And for me to have no idea why?”

“I—I think I know. It hurt me too, Mom. I missed you. But I just couldn’t forgive you for doing that to me. And to Dad.”

“Did you ever think I deserved to at least know what I’d done? If only you’d come to me… We could have cleared that all up seven years ago. Why didn’t you come to me?”

Samara fiddled with her cutlery. “Because it hurt.” Tears thickened her voice. “Yeah, I was angry that you cheated on Dad. But it hurt so much that Travis had just rejected me, and yet he was with you. I was...jealous.” It was so hard to admit that, even to herself, that the word came out barely audible. Jealous of her own mother.

“But he wasn’t with me, Samara.” Her mother’s voice softened. “That never happened.”

“I know that now.” Samara wiped a tear with her fingertips and reached for her water goblet, hoping to wash down the painful lump in her throat. She drank the cold water, her throat raw and aching. “But then I just hurt so bad. But you’re totally right. I only realized that lately, even before I found out the truth, that I didn’t handle it very well. It just seemed the longer it all went on, the more entrenched I got into the whole ‘poor me, poor Dad, how could they do that to us?’ thing.”

More sticky silence stretched between them.

“I was going to talk to you,” Samara continued. “Even before I found out the truth. I know I should have talked to you back then. I was stubborn and stupid.” She paused. “Do you think you can forgive me?”

Her mother blinked slowly. Thought about it. “I don’t know,” she finally said, and Samara’s heart sank. “I’m just so...hurt and angry that you would think that.” She looked off to the side and closed her eyes briefly. “And that you held that inside you all that time. For no reason.”

“I’m sorry.” Samara looked down at the table.

Mom sighed. “I love you, Samara. I also know you and how stubborn and independent you are. How you tend to jump to conclusions sometimes.”

“I’m working on that,” Samara mumbled.

“I think...I might need a while. I can’t believe that you would think I would do such a thing. I can’t believe you put me through that...” Mom lifted a hand to her face and rubbed her forehead. She swallowed hard. “Well. Just telling me about this whole mess is a huge step. I’m proud of you for that at least, Samara.”

She didn’t feel like she deserved her mother’s pride at that moment; she felt like a crumb on the floor the restaurant.

Mom swiped at a tear. “I just wish we hadn’t lost all those years.”

“I’m so sorry.” Samara reached across the table and took her mom’s hand. “I really, really am.” She held her mother’s gaze, and her mom nodded. “But Mom… What was that conversation about? I asked Travis, and he wouldn’t tell me. He says he doesn’t remember.”

Her mother avoided Samara’s eyes. “Oh, Sam. It was something else entirely.”

“Then what was it?”

Mom bit her lip. “It was a business thing. Travis thought Parker was…oh, this is such old water under the bridge. Travis, for some reason, thought Parker was doing something illegal. But he wasn’t.”

“Illegal? That’s crazy. Why didn’t Dad just tell him that?”

“He tried. But…uh…” Mom paused and struggled for a moment. “Parker was very hurt that Travis would think that about him. You know, this might be something…I’m not sure how much to say about this. Now that your father’s gone.”

“It all sounds very mysterious.”

“It’s not. It’s just…a big misunderstanding.”

Their lives seemed to be full of big misunderstandings. Samara sighed inwardly. “Big enough that Travis had to move to L.A.?”

“Well, I always wondered if there was more to that decision than even I knew about.” Mom’s eyebrows drew down. “I suppose that might be something to talk to Travis about.’