“Now, Erik—” started his father.
“Shut up,” he said, shifting his eyes to Fancy, holding her dark eyes in a cold, unwavering gaze. “You are not welcome, in any way, shape, or form, around my daughter or her mother. You are not to contact me. You are not to try to reach out to them or me. As long as you leave us alone, you can tell the press anythin’ you want to about my resignation and move, and I won’t say a peep. If, however, you decide to contact my daughter or her mother, I will publish a full and unabridged account of the way my daughter and her mother were treated by Fancy Rexford. I will tell the world about the time my daughter’s mother came to my mother for help, and how she was turned away, into the dark night, with nothin’. I will tell them that is the reason I was kicked off the Devils and almost became an alcoholic. I will tell them that’s why I have looked dead for the past six years. I will tell them everythin’ you did to me . . . and to them.”
“Erik,” said Fancy, her posture changing from angry to worried. “I think you need to—”
He ignored her, turning to his father. “Have I made myself clear, sir?”
His father’s face was filled with shock and regret, but he nodded before staring back down at the table.
“Ma’am?” he prompted. “Are we clear?”
His mother’s nostrils flared as she stood up, throwing her napkin on the table. “How dare you! All I ever wanted was to keep you safe, and this is how you—”
“ARE. WE. CLEAR?” he bellowed.
Ursula “Fancy” Rexford’s lip wobbled as she stared back at Erik. “Son, you can’t mean this. I was only tryin’ to protect you! We’re your—”
“No, ma’am,” he said softly, his voice biting, cutting like a whip. “You are not my parents anymore. You are not my family. I do not forgive you.” He paused, letting his words sink in, watching as his mother gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “Are we clear?”
Without answering, she burst into tears, screaming at her husband “to make Erik come back and listen to reason” as he turned on his heel, walked out of their room, and closed the door behind him.
Chapter 25
I’m almost home, thought Erik as he drove across the Croatan Sound, sped through Roanoke Island, and crossed the Washington Baum Bridge to the Banks. Turning right onto Route 12 at Nags Head, he felt a rush of anticipation. He was only an hour from Laire and Ava Grace now. Thank God.
He hadn’t spoken to his parents since the conversation in their room on Tuesday morning. They were taking his threat seriously and keeping their distance.
As promised, he’d resigned his position at Rexford & Rexford, LLC quietly, without causing a stir of any kind. For now, for the foreseeable future, he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his parents. He didn’t trust them around Laire or Ava Grace, especially in light of the fact that his mother had manipulated the situation that night even worse than he’d imagined. He’d always known that she was dangerous, but some part of her knew that Laire was carrying her grandchild, and she’d still turned her away.
He couldn’t imagine a situation in which he’d welcome his parents back into his life or ever regard them as his family again. He’d made his choice: he chose his daughter and her mother without exception.
But while disowning his parents had given him a freedom that felt right, saying good-bye to Hillary felt far less victorious. She’d visited his office this afternoon as he packed up the last of his belongings.
“Hey, you,” she said, knocking softly on his open door, “gettin’ ready to go?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“I, uh, I heard from Daddy today.”
“That right?”
“He didn’t know, Erik. I swear to you, he didn’t know that Laire came by that Thanksgivin’. Didn’t know that she was pregnant. Fancy never told him.”
He remembered the shock on his father’s face. “I believe you. But they’re a package deal, Hills, and you know it. Always have been. The fabulous Governor and Mrs. Rexford. If I let him back in my life, she’ll figure out a way to weasel in too, and I can’t have it.”
“I get it, Erik. I do,” she said, closing the door to afford them some privacy. “I get why you don’t want Fancy in your life.” She sat down on the couch, looking up at him. “But Daddy? He didn’t do anythin’.”
“Exactly. He never did anythin’,” said Erik. “No matter what she did, he never checked her, never called her out, just turned a blind eye no matter who she hurt.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Hills. Maybe . . . maybe someday down the line, Daddy and I can talk again. I just need some space right now. I need to keep my girls safe.”
“Right,” she said. “But quittin’ your job? Leavin’ Raleigh? It’s rash, Erik. This is your home.”
“No, Hills.” He looked up from packing some manila file folders into a cardboard box. “Laire and Ava Grace are my home.”