Own the Eights Gets Married - Krista Sandor Page 0,62
continued wary appearance, it didn’t.
“What happened, honey?” Maureen asked, concern etched on her face.
He slumped into the chair. “I was a real asshat, Maureen. I made twenty people think Georgie was a sex maniac whose favorite color was rose, which I then said was pink and argued with her when she told me I was wrong.”
“You are wrong. Rose is the color rose. It’s the shade halfway between red and magenta,” Maureen replied.
Jordan shook his head in astonishment. “Do all women know that? Is that something they take you aside for and share with you when you turn a certain age?” he asked, wondering if he was sick on the day they taught the quintessential rose-is-not-pink lesson at school.
“But that’s not what brought you here, son,” his father said gently.
“No, I told you. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want her attached to a man who might…” he trailed off and met Maureen’s gaze.
“Cheat on his wife and stop spending time with his children to flounce around town with women half his age,” Maureen finished.
Hearing her say the words was like a punch to the gut.
“I hate that Deacon did that to you and the girls. It’s selfish and unforgivable,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.
Maureen nodded. “I agree. But what I don’t understand is why you would think you’d be a husband like Deacon?”
He stared at the ball of lint. “Because when Georgie and I were at our worst, I reverted to the man Deacon wanted me to be. Someone who put winning, ego, and glory above all else.”
Maureen covered his hand with hers. “And that’s exactly the reason why you won’t turn out like him.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Maureen’s features softened. “Deacon doesn’t want to change. I doubt he even sees his behavior as wrong. He writes it off, thinking because he’s found monetary success, he’s earned a certain kind of life where he can neglect his responsibilities. Don’t you see, Jordan? He doesn’t want to be a better man, and that’s the difference. None of us are perfect. We all have our faults. But you want to do better. You want to be better for Georgie.”
Maureen squeezed his hand. “She’s as broken up about this as you are. Remember, I work for you both. I’ve watched her mope around her shop the same way you’ve moped around your gym.”
He blinked back tears. “This separation is killing me. I want to be with Georgie. I want to be the man for her.”
“You are, son,” his father answered.
“How do you know that, Dad?”
And there it was. The question that had him up wrestling with his demons until the early morning hours. Even if she’d take him back, how would he know that he could be the man Georgie deserved?
His big, burly father gave him a teary grin. “I know because you helped me become a better man. You showed me I wasn’t honoring your mother’s memory by wallowing in the past. For years, I hated myself for not dealing with her death better and for not being the dad you needed. But when I stopped hiding behind the mask of anger and disappointment, I was able to see there was a way forward. A way to look into my heart and know I could choose to do better. You changed your life, son. You grew strong in body and mind. Thanks to your example, I learned I was the one who had to choose to be better each day.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You’re not going to hurt Georgie. You might not always agree, but, at the end of the day, you’ll always put her first. It’s who you are. You love with your whole heart, Jordan. I’m the same way. We Marks’ men sometimes get so caught up in our head, we lose sight of what our heart knows is true.”
Jordan gazed between his father and Maureen. How he wanted to believe them. How he wanted to know for certain he could be the man these two people—who were so important to him—thought he could be.
“Let Georgie know how you feel. You’re the man for her, son. All you have to do is believe that with your whole heart and lay off on stealing her dryer lint. It’s damn creepy,” his father added.