slipped down her cheek, and she swiped at it before clasping his hand again. “Like I said, I have many regrets. But in spite of the hell I went through with your father, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, because it brought me you and Gina.”
A quaking started in Ross’s chest, and then a loud crack he was surprised no one could hear crashed in his head and through his heart. He was so damn tired of being bitter. It had eaten away at him for so long that sometimes he didn’t recognize the man he’d become. He’d been punishing everyone because of this anger—his father, Charlotte, himself.
God, Charlotte.
Three years ago, he hadn’t allowed himself to love her because he’d been so afraid she would leave him. And when she had, it had been a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then, after she’d come back in his life, offering him a second chance with her, a chance to have a family, he’d again fallen back on fear. Walking out on her before she could.
He was tired of being afraid. Tired of being bitter and angry.
He just wanted to be loved, to be...happy.
He blinked against the sting of tears as he stared at the woman he’d always just wanted to love him, to accept him.
To stay for him.
Maybe she hadn’t then, but she was here now.
Just as Charlotte had wanted to be.
Oh, Christ, he’d screwed up so bad. So goddamn bad. But he could start fixing it now. And that healing had to start with Sarabeth—with his mother.
“I’ve blamed a lot of my actions and behavior on you and your leaving me. I’ve hurt the mother of my son, the woman I...love—” his throat closed around the word, at admitting it for the first time aloud “—because I couldn’t grow up and accept accountability. I’m sorry for all that you went through, and that when I was old enough, I chose to wallow in resentment than ask you why. I needed you when I was younger, and you weren’t there. So I can’t say that I can magically let go of that hurt, but I do forgive you. Because forgiving you means forgiving myself.”
“Oh, honey,” Sarabeth whispered, more tears streaming down her face. She cupped his cheek, and he savored it. Cherished the affection from his mom that he’d craved for so long. “I can’t make up for the past. If only I could. But if you’ll let me, I’ll be here for you now. And the woman you love? Don’t make the same mistakes I did, Ross. Go after her. Fight for her.”
I so desperately wanted you to fight for me. To ask me to stay.
Charlotte’s voice echoed in his head, and he silently vowed that he wouldn’t fail her now like he had in the past.
He would go to war for both her and Ben, and this was one he couldn’t lose.
Because he was battling for the woman he loved and his child.
He was battling for his life.
Sixteen
“I need the braised beef,” Charlotte called out from the warming shelves as she finished plating a Tomahawk steak entrée. “It’s up next.”
“Yes, Chef, on two,” her sous-chef replied.
Satisfied, Charlotte returned to the dishes waiting for her to check and send out. Sheen had been packed since the Soiree on the Bay party, and this Friday night, they had a line out the building, of customers waiting to dine. The knowledge should’ve filled her with happiness at their success, but for the past week—since Ross had left—everything had been shrouded in a layer of gray, dulling her emotions. Which she appreciated. Because she feared feeling anything. Feared that if she allowed even a sliver to surface, then the pain, disappointment and grief would surge through that opening like scavengers, to feed on her.
No, this coat of numbness was saving her at the moment, and she clung to it.
“Chef, you have a guest who’d like to see you tableside.”
Dammit.
Forcing a smile that probably resembled a grimace, Charlotte glanced over at Carlie, who stood in the kitchen doorway.
“Okay, I’ll be out in just a minute.”
Switching out her jackets, she hurried from the kitchen with instructions to her sous-chef to take over for her. The sooner she got this over with, the quicker she could return to the kitchen, her sanctuary. Where she could lose herself in work and think about nothing else. No one else.
“Right over here, Chef,” Carlie said, guiding her toward the back of the restaurant.
Charlotte followed, threading through the tables, pausing to greet