Four years ago Beatrix Anders ran away. The offer of a job in Canada was too good to turn down and it also helped distract from her broken heart.
Cameron Harte hurt the only woman he'd loved since forever. Confessing to something he didn't do to p...
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~ ~ Beatrix ~ ~
* * Six Months later * *
On a chilly Saturday morning, I climbed out of the Uber to face a bitter northerly wind and the steady smattering of light rain.
Tugging the collar of my coat closer, I shivered walking up the small paved path toward a house that had been a second home to me growing up.
I rang the doorbell and let in the memories of happy times and one not so happy one.
Would he be willing to listen?
Fingers strumming against my purse, I worried the inside of my cheek. About to press the doorbell again, the door opened and there stood the very man I wanted to see.
His eyebrows climbed up his forehead, then sloped downward. "What do you want, Beatrix?" his voice gruff, unwelcoming. But it wouldn't deter me.
"I'd like to talk, can I come in?"
"That depends." He shifted on bare feet, gripping the front door in his hand. "Are you going to tell me my son has finally come to his senses and it's just the two of you and not that perverted set up you called a relationship?"
I'd attempted this conversation a few months ago, over the phone. This time, I was trying a more direct approach.
"Has he asked you to come?"
I shook my head. "No." Cam didn't have a clue. He'd said he'd accepted that his family might never come around and that he was okay—but that was a lie.
His stare was punishing and I felt like a child again in front of this guy that I'd thought of as a second dad. It didn't matter that I'd not seen him for over four years but he looked just like I remembered. An immense man, standing six feet tall with broad shoulders and an amazing physique for a guy in his late fifties, the only difference was he had deeper set lines around his eyes and more silver threaded through his dark thick hair.
I braced a smile. "No, it's still the three of us."
"Then we have nothing to discuss. I will never accept that my son is with another man." He cheeks reddened as he puffed out his chest. "And I don't know how you can allow yourself to be a part of that." His contempt was as biting as the wind. "Your father would turn in his grave if he knew what you're doing—how you're living your life."
His eyes hardened further, narrowing. "I don't have a son as long as he carries on doing what he's doing." He flicked his chin up. "So I suggest you turn around and get back in that car that brought you here."
Attempting the shut the door, I stepped forward and flattened my palm against the hardwood door. "You're going to hear me out."
