“That’s a good idea,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch sometime during the afternoon tomorrow.” I risked a glance at Cormack, who continued to stare at the painting and rub Lily’s back. He appeared lost. “We just need a little time.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Zoe reassured me. “I get it. We’ll definitely be in touch tomorrow.”
ONCE THE WINTERS WERE GONE, THE GRIMLOCK children dispersed to the parlor for drinks while Cormack headed to his office, Lily in tow.
“It feels like we should do something,” Aisling announced once she had a drink in her hand. “He’s ... depressed or something.”
“His mother is dead,” Cillian pointed out. “Of course he’s depressed.”
“But she was a mean old bat,” Aisling argued. “We should be throwing a party.”
“Did we throw a party when the thing that came back with Mom’s face died?” Cillian shot back.
Aisling refused to be daunted by her brother’s dark tone. “Kind of. Griffin and I got married almost immediately and there was cake. What else do you need for a party?”
“Oh, stuff it, Ais,” Redmond growled, shaking his head from behind the bar cart. “He’s allowed to feel what he wants to feel. We can’t tell him how he should react. That’s his mother.”
They continued to argue, as was their way. All of them got involved, including Jerry. I very much doubted they realized it but snapping at one another was how they coped. Rather than hang around and listen — or get involved — I left them to their mindless squabbling and tracked Cormack down in his office.
It was my favorite room in the house, although I had never realized why until I found him sitting in front of the fireplace with Lily resting on his chest. He leaned back so he was at a comfortable angle and Lily babbled and stared into his eyes. She was a Grandpa’s girl, and I had no doubt they would have a bond for the ages. The office reminded me of the sort of space my grandfather would’ve preferred. It even smelled like him a little bit, and the realization made me wistful.
Cormack glanced over when I sighed. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t hold back my chuckle as I moved to sit in the chair next to the couch. “Shouldn’t that be my line?”
“I’m fine.” The response was automatic. “If they’re worried about me ... well ... they don’t have to be. That woman was no longer my mother.”
I knew better than that. “Just because you no longer trusted her doesn’t mean part of you didn’t love her.”
“I’m not sure I ever loved her.”
“You did. You couldn’t help yourself. That’s who you are. You’re a giving person down to your very core ... although I don’t think you learned that behavior from them.”
“I would agree with you there.” Cormack smiled at his granddaughter, causing her to gurgle. “You didn’t really respond before. Did they send you in here because they’re worried about me? If so, you can go back and tell them I’m absolutely fine.”
“They’re a little too busy being ... well ... Grimlocks to notice I even left the room,” I replied. “You raised wonderful children — at least for the most part — but they like to pick fights over ridiculous things when they don’t know what to do with their emotions.”
This time the smile he managed was genuine. “They might get that from me.”
I laughed. “They’re poking at one another because that’s what they do. Some of them are arguing that they should be in here poking at you. I think you have about thirty minutes until that contingent wins the argument.”
“Let me guess ... Aisling is the one who thinks I need to be poked.”
“She’s just worried.” I flashed a smile for Lily’s benefit when she shifted her attention to me. “I know you say you’re all right — and I mostly believe you — but it’s okay to grieve. She was your mother.”
“She was an enemy. You don’t grieve an enemy.”
“Is that what you told your children when your wife came back without a soul and tried to kill two of them? Did you tell them not to grieve that loss a second time?”
He hesitated and then made an exaggerated sound of exasperation. “I don’t like that you have a point.”
“Your children are that way, too. They’re singular in the way they want to win arguments. The fact of the matter is, you lost your mother today. It’s okay to feel whatever’s in your heart. It doesn’t make you weak or naive. It simply makes you a human being.”
Lily babbled, as if in agreement.
Cormack pressed a kiss to her forehead as he laughed. “The truth is, I don’t know what to feel.” Slowly, he sobered. “I have this empty space in my heart where my parents should be. The thing is, for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s new or was always there.”
Intrigue washed over me. “And what did you decide?”
“I think it was always there, and that makes me feel guilty for a different reason.” He was rueful. “I think I covered that empty spot because I knew they were incapable of giving me what I needed. I vowed I would never be that sort of parent — and, yes, I overindulged my children. I would never say otherwise. I also loved them no matter what.”
“Your children are the most loved individuals I’ve ever met,” I agreed. “They’re all spoiled rotten, too. Aisling is especially bad.”
“She was the only girl. I felt the need to protect her.”
“You protected her. You also amassed a wall of Grimlock testosterone to serve as warriors. They’re all ridiculously close and would die for one another. As a parent, you excelled.”
“How did I do as a son, though?” he asked in a quiet voice.
I knew that was what was bothering him. “It doesn’t matter. A child can’t fail a parent. Parents fail children,
