Mr. Smithfield - Louise Bay Page 0,75

it was as obvious as the sun rising in the morning.

“I think you need to leave.” I went to close the door and her arm snapped out to stop me.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” she said. “But from what I can see, it’s you standing in the way of me and my daughter. Me and my family. Do you see that?” she asked. “We’re still married, and that means something. He never asked for a divorce. Not in all these years. I know he would take me back if . . .”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I could fill in the gaps. She meant that if I wasn’t around, she would be able to fit back into her old life with Gabriel.

Gabriel would deny it. But maybe it was true.

Had he really not asked for a divorce for all these years? He’d been adamant about not giving Penelope a second chance, but if that was really true, why hadn’t he cut legal ties sooner? Why was the man I was sleeping with still married to a woman who left him three years ago?

It didn’t make sense.

I stayed silent, the unanswered questions chipping away at my defenses.

“Gabriel’s a good man,” she continued. “I’m not sure if it’s serious between you or just convenient.”

Convenient? I might live under his roof, but I was his best friend’s future sister-in-law. And his employee. There was nothing convenient about me as far as Gabriel was concerned.

“But he’s my husband.” She emphasized the word as if I couldn’t possibly understand what she was trying to say. “I’m Bethany’s mother. And you seem like a nice girl. Do you want to live the rest of your life knowing you broke up a family?”

“You need to leave,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. There was no point in having this conversation. I needed to shut the door, get away from this woman, and organize my thoughts.

“If you weren’t on the scene, we’d all have a chance at being together,” she said. “You’re ruining Bethany’s chance of having her mother and father together. Of spending time with her mother, rather than the hired help.”

“I’m going to shut the door,” I said, my jaw clenched and my shoulder poised to ram closed the black door. I wasn’t the one who walked out on my family three years ago. She was trying to push the blame of what she’d done onto me. And I knew it wasn’t my fault.

“Do you really want to live your life as a homewrecker?” she asked. Her manner wasn’t menacing or threatening, but the implication was. She was telling me I was the problem. She was telling me I was ruining her life, Gabriel’s life, and Bethany’s life. Part of me knew it was manipulative, but was it possible for her words to be manipulative and true?

“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back. “Like I said, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I know I’ve made mistakes and bad decisions. I just want my family back. I don’t want to miss any more of Bethany’s life.” Her voice faltered at the end of the sentence. She looked desperate. Like she was really remorseful.

It was hard not to feel sorry for her. Yes, she’d walked out three years ago and not been back before now. Yes, it was her choice. But now she was here, and she was trying to right her wrongs. She was trying not to compound her mistake. She was fighting for what was hers. How could I blame her?

“Penelope, this is a conversation you should be having with Gabriel.”

Her gaze dropped to her feet like she knew that wasn’t the answer. “That’s the theory,” she mumbled. “Like I said, he’s a good man, but he doesn’t forgive so easily.”

“He’s trying to protect Bethany.” And himself.

“Sometimes people don’t make the right decisions,” she said. “I didn’t when I walked away. But if Gabriel doesn’t let me make it right, won’t that be a bad decision too?”

Would he be more forgiving of Penelope in different circumstances? If he hadn’t watched his mother forgive his father over and over and over, only to be let down and betrayed every time, wouldn’t he think Penelope deserved forgiveness?

And if I wasn’t living here. If I wasn’t sleeping with him. What if?

“I think you should talk to him. Like you said, he’s a good man.”

“Are you a good woman?” she asked. She put her hand up to stop me answering. “I’m going, don’t worry.