Her breath hitched. “And I will never, ever forgive myself for the part I’ve played in adding to that void in both of your lives.”

“Mother, you did the best you could.”

“No. I didn’t. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve loved you and Brian enough for two parents. Like how your brother is doing with Skylar. But I just…couldn’t.”

A sardonic grin tipped her mouth at the corner. “I tried explaining it to Henry once. I’d likened it to having a limb fall asleep on you. It’s compressed, drained, unaware…until that blood comes rushing in again. An unwelcome relief, or a welcome pain—depends how you look at it. Depends how long that limb has been cut off from circulation.”

With a shudder of remembrance, she whispered, “And it hurts, almost unbearably at first to feel all that coming back in, doesn’t it?”

Yes.

She nodded as if he’d answered aloud. “But it doesn’t stop there. Sure, your sleeping limb is all filled up and whole again, but it’s still not back to ‘normal.’ You still have to use it, get the feeling back, make it respond. So you get more doses of pain as you do, along with confusion, frustration, and at times, feelings that it’s not really worth it.”

“That’s what my heart went through; the pain process was long, and just as terrible as it was wonderful. It wasn’t until recently that it ended completely.” She put a hand on his cheek—yet another motherly gesture he committed to memory just in case it never came back again. “But your pain is still going on, isn’t it?”

Yes. A thousand times, yes.

“Who is she? Do I know her?”

That was an easier question to answer aloud. “You do, actually. It’s Abby. Abby Bartlett.”

Helen frowned, “Brian’s friend?”

He nodded.

Surprise and sympathy drifted over her features. “Oh, dear.”

Wow, for a woman just learning how to love again, she seemed remarkably insightful about all that he was struggling with.

Something that resembled a smile of motherly approval lit her face. “She is a very nice girl.”

He almost laughed then. “Yes, yes she is.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Any advice?”

She started chuckling delightedly at that—another first. “I am the last person to give you advice on anything dealing with love, Connor, and you know it.”

“Try anyway.” He had a feeling she’d be better at it than she thought.

After a long moment of consideration, she said, “I think…if you love her, you should let her love you back, help her love you back. Because let’s face it, we all need help with that.”

She bit her lip nervously. “Did that make any sense?”

He gave her a small grin. “That’s good advice. Great advice, really. Thank you.”

Her eyes widened, and then softened with emotion. The new laughlines forming there yet another marked change he was happy to see.

“Can I give you some advice now?” he ventured softly.

A startled, pleased look crossed her features. “Of course.”

He gazed at her for a beat, then smiled. “Let me and Brian call you ‘mom’ from now on.”

An instant rush of tears filled her eyes. “Do you think I deserve that?” she asked, her voice a hopeful whisper.

“I do. I think you deserve to let us love you. I think we deserve that, too.”

And now the tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I’d like that. Very much.”

He stood then and they proceeded to have the world’s most awkward parent-child hug ever. He shrugged. “We’ll get better at it.”

She chuckled—each one starting to sound more natural on her. “I’ll be sure to practice the hugging with Skylar.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. And if she’ll let me, I’m thinking of asking her to call me ‘grandma.’”

“Good. That suits you as well.” He glanced at his watch, knowing that even the best advice had a window of time before its shelf life expired.

If he was going to follow through on the one his mother had provided, he needed to head out now. “I better get going.”

But before he did, he turned to his mother and asked, “This man, Henry, the one you’re in love with—is he a nice guy? Does he treat you well?”

Her smile was resplendent. “Yes. Very much so.”

“I’m glad. You deserve it.” He walked another few steps to his car and stopped again when another thought occurred to him, the ugliness of his father’s smug taunts from the other night echoing in his head. “Hey, who’s your legal counsel for the divorce? I want to be sure you have the best if they’re going up against our firm.”

“I actually just changed legal counsel since it was clear your father was going to pulverize the first one I’d retained.” She beamed. “My new attorney actually approached me to offer her help. Just last week, in fact.”

Really? That was unusual. “Is she any good? Because I’ll vet her for you, get you a better lawyer if you need.”

“Oh, she’s good alright. And you won’t need to vet her. You know her very well.”

He thought about that for a second before a slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Victoria?”

“Mmm hmm.”

Connor tipped his head back and laughed. Until his face hurt.

His father was going to get creamed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ABBY STRETCHED and rolled over in bed, sliding a hand over to the space beside her in reflex.

To the feeling of cold sheets.

So he left.

The tears came even though she’d told herself there wouldn’t be any this morning. Even though she’d told herself she had no regrets about giving her love to a man who hadn’t been able to give her his in return.

But no amount of logic and enlightened self-awareness could stop the pain, stop her from remembering every last detail of her final few hours with Connor.

A memory infinitely more painful in its perfection in the light of morning.

When the sound of the doorbell splintered through her house a moment later, she stilled, unable to move, unwilling to allow herself to get swept away by the fantasy that it would be Connor standing there on her doorstep on day thirty-two.

And yet wanting to, so much.

Holding her breath, she walked over and creaked the door open.

“Hey, sweetie. Can I come in?”

It wasn’t Connor.

She opened the door wide and let Brian pick her up and squeeze her in his usual big, burly bear hug. Had it really been a month since she’d seen him last?

“Hey stranger,” she choked back her disappointment over which brother’s arms were holding her, comforting her. “Why didn’t you and Skylar come over this past week when ASU started back up? Were the three weeks without me that effective a detox program to get me completely out of your systems?” she queried, her attempt at humor falling flat.

“No. Just the opposite, actually,” he said quietly. “But we stayed away to...give you your space.”

She blinked and felt her already wobbly smile completely crumble away. “Connor told you, didn’t he? He sent you over here?”

“Yes.”

She quickly disentangled himself from his hug, which was now cloaked with sympathy. “What did he say?”

“A lot,” he evaded, and slid a thumb over the new tear sliding down her cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.”

So saying, he pulled out a small, gift-wrapped box from the cargo pocket of his jeans and handed it to her.

She melted. Brian was always so good to her, such a good friend. She didn’t know what her life would be without him.

“Open it.”

Slowly, carefully, she slid her fingers under the seams of the wrapping paper—seeing as how this was the first time he’d actually wrapped a present for her, she wanted to savor it. Maybe even keep the ribbon.

When she peered into the box and saw the beautiful antique picture frame inside, the perfect size for her nightstand, she shook her head in unsurprised amazement.