Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,140
nods. “Word is, he’s cutting a deal. If he gives the DA everything he has on Brett, they’ll shave some years off his sentence. If not, with that many charges… he’s looking at some serious time behind bars.”
“So, after all these years, after everything he’s done… Brett might go to jail?”
Chase nods. “Assuming his lawyers can’t get him off.”
“Finally,” I breathe, relieved.
“Finally,” Chase echoes, his mouth tugging up at the corners. “There’s something else.”
My eyebrows go up.
“Your mother is here,” he says gently. “And… so is your father.”
“Oh.”
I’m truly too stunned to say anything.
“I told them to wait in the lobby, for now. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see them.” His eyes ask a question I’m not sure I have the answer to.
I swallow hard. “I guess… I guess they can come in.”
“Are you sure, sunshine?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll go get them.”
***
I’m practically levitating off the bed with nerves, waiting for Chase to return with my parents in tow.
A kind nurse came by and took Summer back to the nursery while he was gone, and without her in my arms I’m not sure where to focus my restless energy. Fighting the urge to fidget, I clasp my hands together and wait for them to arrive.
Mom’s crying before she even sees me.
“Gemma!” she exclaims, crossing the room in a blur of motion, until her hands are wrapped tight around mine. “Baby girl, I was so worried.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
She doesn’t say anything — she’s crying too hard – but as she pulls me close, I know no matter what happens, no matter how many fights we have or how many angry words we exchange… she’ll always be my mom. And I’ll always love her, flaws and all.
I hear the sound of a throat clearing, and my eyes move toward the door. There’s a tall, dark-haired man standing there with a bouquet of beautiful red and black flowers in his arms.
“Gemma.” He takes a few tentative steps into the room, his posture stiff. “I’m Milo West. I’m… I’m your father.”
My eyes dart to Chase and he nods slightly, reassuring me with that tiny motion.
You can do this, sunshine.
I force my eyes back to Milo’s and see, in the depths of his gaze, that he’s nervous despite his frigid manner.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say quietly. “Thanks… for coming.”
He nods, looking more than a little overwhelmed. I take pity on him.
“Are those for me?” I ask, my eyes dropping to the flowers in his arms.
“Oh… Yes, of course.” He looks around at the million peonies, then down at the single bouquet in his arms, clearly feeling flustered. “I didn’t think you’d have so many already…”
“Are they poppies?” I ask, extending my arms for them. “They’re beautiful.”
He nods, taking the final steps forward and gently laying the bouquet in my arms.
“Your sister… they’ve always been her favorite.” His voice is halting, awkward, forced — but he’s trying. Even I can see that. And right now, in just this moment, fresh off a near-death experience… I’m willing to give him a free pass.
I tilt my head forward to inhale their fragrance. “Thank you, Milo.”
He tries out an uneasy smile.
“Mom, will you put them in some water for me?” I ask, passing the flowers to her.
“Sure, baby girl.” She pulls them to her chest. I see more tears gathering in her eyes when she leans in to press a kiss to my forehead, then turns for the door. “Chase, why don’t you help me track down a vase?” she asks, her voice clogged with emotion.
Chase meets my eyes and I nod.
I’m okay.
“Of course, Petra.” He lets Mom tug him out the door without protest.
“I can go, too. I’m sure you need to rest.” Milo shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at me as he prepares to head out after them.
“Why don’t you stay?” I ask, halting him with my words.
His eyes find mine, full of uncertainty… and hope.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Tell me about Phoebe. And Parker. I’d love to know more about them both.”
He looks a little shell-shocked as he settles into the chair beside my bed, but once he starts talking, he seems to relax a bit.
And here I thought this day couldn’t get any stranger.
Of all the things I didn’t expect about the last twenty-four hours — car chases, kidnappings, surprise births, near drownings — me, sitting with my father, having a civilized conversation was the last one I’d have predicted. And yet… it’s really not so terrible.