As they erupted outside into the sunlight, Logan rubbed his hand over his eyes.
“That was bad...” he muttered.
“No, that was honest,” Melanie replied. “You don’t have to stop existing to make other people more comfortable, you know.”
Logan looked over at her, and managed a shrug. “Ironically, it’s what my father would have wanted—me to back off and let them mourn.”
Melanie shook her head.
“No, I’m serious,” he said. “Whatever my father’s limitations when it came to loving me, he could have made up with me anytime over the last twenty years.”
“I’m sure he was a more complex man than any of his children realized,” she observed. “That’s the way of parenthood—our children simplify us to make themselves comfortable, but even you are more complex than Graham knows.”
Melanie slipped her arm through his once more and they started down the sidewalk. At the corner, they took a side street down a tree-lined road, away from the tourists and bustle of the town center. She felt good next to him. Too good, but instead of putting some distance between them, he covered her hand with his.
“You loved him,” Melanie said quietly.
“What?”
“You did,” she said. “You loved your dad, whether he loved you back or not, you did love him.”
“Yeah.” His voice was tight.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Logan.”
Such a simple thing to say, but it started a crack in his reserve that crept deeper and deeper as the tears welled in his eyes. He hadn’t cried for his father yet, and he’d hoped to do this in private, but he couldn’t seem to hold back the flood of emotion. Tears trickled down his cheeks, and Melanie wordlessly wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her face against his shoulder, holding him tight. He pulled her close against him, buried his face in her hair and cried.
She didn’t move, or hurry him. She was like a rock there, holding him up, and when he’d finished, he wiped his eyes, feeling somewhat foolish.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“For what?” she asked softly. “For mourning your father at his funeral? Logan, you’ll have to forgive yourself, too. You were enough, you know. You really were.”
It was a nice sentiment, but not true. He hadn’t been enough of a Wilde to fit in with his father’s family, and he hadn’t been enough for his wife, either. When it came to Caroline and very likely Melanie, too, it wasn’t about his intrinsic worth—this was about his own behavior, his defense mechanisms, his knee-jerk reactions. He might not fit in with Harry’s family, but Logan was his father’s son in more ways than one—he had the same stubborn streak, the same tendency to clam up about his feelings and the same way of pushing away the people he loved. Given enough time, he’d probably do it with Melanie again, too, and that thought tightened his throat. He bent down and pressed a kiss against Mel’s forehead.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said gruffly.
She didn’t answer, but she slipped her arm through his again, and they continued their slow walk down the sidewalk, the tree-dappled shade cooling the summer air.
“I have to leave tomorrow morning,” he said.
“I know. Will you come say goodbye this time?”
“Of course,” he said. “You can count on it.”
Logan missed her already. But they’d both go back to their lives, and that was as it should be. Sure, they could stay in contact, but it wouldn’t be the same. Whatever was happening here would stop. And Melanie would be better off with a proper goodbye and moving on.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THAT EVENING, MELANIE awoke from a heavy nap, still feeling foggy. Something had woken her up, and she pushed her hand through her tangled hair, trying to pinpoint what it was. Then she heard the sound of the front door opening and voices—Tilly’s and Adam’s—and she woke up the rest of the way, her heart speeding up in her chest.
So, Adam had come.
Melanie got up and headed out toward the living area. Her ex-husband stood by the door, and for a moment, he didn’t see her. He looked older, with a few more lines on his face. But his old way of standing—legs akimbo, hands in his pockets—brought a lump to her throat. When would that feeling stop? Why couldn’t she just hate him and be done with it?
When Adam saw her, he smiled hesitantly.
“Hi, Mel,” Adam said. “Sorry to wake you.”
Such an ordinary thing to say—something he’d said a thousand times over their marriage. Looking at him in this lake house, she thought it could have been any other summer, when Adam worked long hours and came to see them with that easy smile on his face. Now, of course, she knew what else he’d been up to besides working, and it still hurt in a very deep and personal place in her heart.
“It was a late night last night,” Melanie said.
“I got your text after I landed,” Adam said. “What happened?”
“Simon was being a jerk,” Tilly said. “And Mel came to get me.”
“Pumpkin,” Adam said, holding a hand out to his daughter. She came forward and hugged him. Adam squeezed her tight, shutting his eyes for a moment, then he released her. “We’ll figure this out, okay? I’m pretty excited about becoming a grandpa. And I’ll talk to Simon’s parents, and—”
“I’m not ready for that,” Tilly said.
“Leave it to me, Tilly,” Adam said, and there was a note of finality in his voice that was a relief to Melanie—another adult was taking over. She could step back now.
“Thank you for all of this, Mel,” Adam said. “You always were the one who held us all together.”
“I was,” Melanie agreed. “But I’m glad you’re here. Tilly needs you.”
“Why don’t you get packed, Tilly,” Adam said. “Let me talk to Mel.”
Tilly headed out of the kitchen, and Adam came closer to Melanie and bent down to kiss her cheek. She stepped back, avoiding his touch.
“I miss us being a family,” Adam said, his
