Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I didn’t want Bethany’s childhood memories to be of her hiding anywhere.
At the same time, I didn’t want to create a new problem. I didn’t want Bethany to come to me one day and ask me why I hadn’t let her see her mother.
“I’m not trying to take her away from you, Gabriel. I would never. You’re a good man and a wonderful father. Bethany is very lucky to have you. I don’t want to ruin any of that.”
Didn’t she see that she already had? “There are no second chances,” I said. “Not when it comes to me. Not when it comes to my daughter.”
Penelope sighed. “I know, Gabriel,” she said in a resigned tone. “I know.”
Bethany moved on to the roundabout and Penelope rode on with her as she spun them both around. Then onto the monkey bars. Bethany had been trying for a while now to cross them without falling.
“Go as quickly as you can,” I said as she ran over to me to hand me her jacket. She nodded, determination in her eyes.
She got halfway across and dropped to the ground.
“You okay?” I asked, as Penelope rushed to her.
Bethany sprang up and went right back to where she’d started. “I’m going to try again,” she said.
“Good girl.” Never give up.
Penelope backed away. “See. If she gave up when she failed the first time, she’d never learn to master anything,” she said.
I huffed out a breath. I could see right through her. There was no way she could equate the two circumstances and I wouldn’t allow her to manipulate me. “But you did give up, Penelope. You gave up for three years.”
Bethany passed the tricky halfway point and was almost across. “Keep going,” I called. “You’re nearly there.”
Just before she hit the last rung, her hand slipped and she fell to the ground—just thirty centimeters or so. She’d been so close.
“How are your hands?” I asked.
She held up her palms. “Sore.”
“Maybe take a break and try again next time. You were so close.”
She nodded and skipped over to me to collect her jacket. I helped her into the sleeves so her top didn’t ruche up on the arms in the way she hated.
“My palms were sore, Gabriel. I needed a break,” Penelope said. “But I don’t want to give up. Not on my daughter. And not on my marriage.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t have anything to say. Marriage and a child weren’t trying to cross the monkey bars. Sometimes you just needed to push through—do what was being asked of you by the people who loved you.
Bethany raced back to me and slipped her hand into mine and we headed home, Penelope and Jade following. My mind started replaying my conversation with Autumn, as it had a hundred times since she left. I had no desire to try again with Penelope. But I wanted Autumn. More than anything, I wanted her to come back. If I was following my own advice, I needed to do what was being asked of me. Perhaps I just had to push through.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” I called over my shoulder.
“Me?” Penelope asked. “Nothing. Why?”
“Meet me at Primitivo’s at one,” I said, referring to a restaurant around the corner from my office. We’d met a couple of times there before Bethany had been born. Lunch with Penelope would be the start of what Autumn had asked of me. I’d spend time with Penelope. I’d hear her out. But only because that’s what it would take to get Autumn back.
Thirty-Seven
Autumn
So much for the amazing weather. It was raining. And not just in a gentle drip. This rain consisted of large, violent splashes of water my umbrella was almost useless against. My sneakers squelched when I walked, and my pants stuck to my legs as if I’d put them on straight from the washer.
But I was dry from my waist up thanks to the waterproof coat I’d brought from Oregon, and I wasn’t cold. I was invigorated. It was as if the rain was determinedly washing away anything bad. I thought about Gabriel constantly. But I needed to focus on the positive—the man I loved got to have the family he’d always wanted. I had to be happy for him. My devastation at having to give him up would pass. At some point the sharp edges of loss would soften and I would start to feel whole again. In the meantime, I would distract myself. If that took getting soaked to my skin in Madrid, then so be it.
I saw some large white columns to my left, which must belong to the Prado. I raced toward them, desperate for shelter. I darted under cover and shut down my umbrella, stamping my feet in the vain hope that it would shake some of the water from my pants.