Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)

by Melanie Harlow

It was the first time Brett, my ex-husband, and fucking Kimmy, his soon-to-be-next-wife, and I were all in a room together.

I was only attending this breakfast because my daughter had begged me to come. She couldn’t stand Kimmy, and she was furious with her dad. I was careful not to badmouth him in front of the kids, but I probably didn’t even need to worry about it.

He’d never been Father of the Year. In his mind, paying their private school tuition bills, buying them expensive birthday presents, and taking them on fancy trips made him a good dad. He never spent any real time with them, and he blamed his work schedule for missing out on their activities.

I’d practically been a single parent anyway the last few years, and when he left for good, the kids had made it clear they were staying with me. They tolerated weekend visits with their dad—when he didn’t cancel—...

Brett hated it, of course, so maybe it was her way of defying him? Of saying fuck you for leaving with her loud red lips? Part of me admired her for that. Did I really need to take it away from her?

women I’d considered friends until recently. But many of them had known Brett was cheating on me, and none of them had said a thing. Their excuse? They didn’t want to upset me. It was bullshit.

There was politeness, and there was loyalty, and I knew the damn difference, even if they didn’t.

Deep down, I’d known for a long time that my passionless marriage was disintegrating. I’d just been too scared to do anything about it.

I didn’t usually drink this heavily, but it was either swallow it or throw it in their faces, and I didn’t want to make a scene—not yet, anyway.

“God, it’s just so crass,” Tippy said before sipping her drink. “I mean, who says those things out loud at lunch?” As if she hadn’t hung on every single word out of Kimmy’s mouth—as if all of them hadn’t!

We’re still going to have to socialize with them, no matter how terrible it will be to have to make conversation with that infant he’s marrying.” “I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re all excellent at pretending to be someone’s friend.” I grabbed my fresh mimosa, spilling some over the side of the glass. Then I tipped it up and slammed it.

The room hushed. Expressions ranged from curious to concerned to shocked—I was generally a quiet, dignified sort of person. Not at all the type of woman to commandeer Santa’s mic and lecture a room full of people just trying to enjoy their Bloody Marys and quiche.

Hiding presents from Santa—just one more rite of fatherhood I wouldn’t get to experience. I buried the thought before it got to me.

“Those two get off on bickering, I swear to God. It’s like foreplay to them.” I squinted. “Foreplay? What’s foreplay? I vaguely recall it might have something to do with sex, but . . .” April’s eyes closed. “Tell me about it.”

I laughed. I didn’t know Henry all that well, but I knew he was very serious about his vines.

I’d forgotten how beautiful she was.

But I remembered thinking that Sylvia had looked sad that night—stunning, as usual, but sad.

I didn’t blame Renee for being jealous. Of course I thought Sylvia was pretty—who wouldn’t?

I couldn’t help feeling excited to have someone to talk to about what I did—someone who wanted to listen and learn.

“You know, April once mentioned you could be a bossy know-it-all. I didn’t believe her.” She put her nose in the air. “I’m the big sister. I get to be bossy sometimes.”

Fuck yes, I could give in to a woman. What I couldn’t give in to was myself.

She was so fucking pretty.

When I pulled the door open, I wasn’t prepared for the way my body reacted. At the sight of Henry freshly scrubbed, hair neatly groomed, scruff trimmed, wearing a dark wool peacoat and holding a bottle of wine, my face warmed and my pulse zoomed.

It wasn’t fair that a fucking asshole like that got to have kids when he didn’t deserve them.

It was a testament to Sylvia’s parenting that they were so well-adjusted.

“God, Sylvia. I’m so sorry. That won’t happen again.” Wait—he was sorry?

Brett: I told them. Maybe you should check on Whitney. She seemed upset. “She seemed upset?” I yelled at my phone. “Of course she did, you dipshit asshole!”

“Did you hear her asking me all those questions? And she was definitely giving me the side eye across the table.” “She’s thirteen. Her face is always like that.” “Still.” He took my face in his hands. “We need to be careful, Sylvia.”

I know how this works. You fall in love with Henry, and then he’ll take you away from us. You’ll want to get married and have his baby, and then you’ll realize you don’t need us anymore.” “Oh, honey, that’s not true.” I stood up and moved toward her, but she ducked out of the way—to my recollection, the first time she’d ever rejected my attempt at affection.

“I don’t really want to move to Arizona,” she confessed. “I don’t blame you.” Her arms circled my waist. “I want to stay here with you and Keaton and have our new house. I want it to be just us.” I swallowed hard. I knew what she meant. “Okay.”

It wasn’t fair that an asshole like that won her heart, and I never even had a chance.

And I was sitting there looking at him, thinking, Dad, you don’t know jack shit about taking care of things that are valuable.” I laughed, although it wasn’t funny.

then suddenly turned around and rushed into my arms, bursting into tears. “I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“What’s going on, Sylvia?” “I . . . I don’t think I should work at the winery anymore.” He pressed his lips together. “Why?” Fighting tears, I told him the truth, like we’d promised each other we would. “Because I’m in love with you, Henry.”

“But I don’t want to be sad anymore, Henry. This is too hard.”

Were they telling her they’d seen me? What was she doing tonight? Had she been as lonely as I had the last couple weeks? Maybe she’d wave. But within seconds, she looked straight ahead again, and the SUV pulled away.

“I’m not upset. I want you to love her like that.”

“My mom deserves a fighter, Mr. DeSantis.” I swallowed hard. “Yes, she does.”

“This is right where I want to be, Henry. In your arms. Always.”