She hugged him to her tightly. “It’s not your fault.” She still looked ashen when she pulled back. “Do you mind if I go lie down for a while? I woke up with a bit of a headache, and it’s still bothering me.” He knew she was lying by the way her eyes shifted to the side. She needed space and some time to regroup. She’d probably actually like to go home but didn’t want him to feel worse than he already did.
“Sure, baby,” he agreed. “Go on in and I’ll bring you some Tylenol and water in a few moments, okay?” He had dropped a kiss on her upturned mouth before she walked down the hallway and out of sight.
When she was gone, he sank down onto a barstool and ran a hand over the stiff muscles in his neck. He was feeling pissed off and helpless. Why couldn’t anything ever be simple? The usual meet-a-girl-and-fall-in-love scenario didn’t seem to matter here. Instead, the woman whom he adored had a bitch of a mother intent on tearing her down at every opportunity. Mark was a big boy and figured he could handle that. But then toss his own parents into the mix, also intent on making his woman miserable, and you had a lynch mob of sorts. He’d gotten pretty good at blocking them out or pretending they didn’t exist, but now it wasn’t just him. Sure, he could go on the attack. They might even back off for a while afterward, but there was one thing he’d learned through the years—that didn’t last for long. It was amazing how resilient the mean bullies of the world were. He wished that everyone could bounce back from discord that quickly and easily.
His Angel was a sweet, kind, and loving woman who’d already had to deal with a hostile mother and possibly a manipulative ex-husband for years. Was it fair to ask her to continue that trend with him? If there was one thing he knew about his father, it was the fact that he was like a bloodhound when he was obsessed with something. And right now, he feared that Angel was the object of that fixation. Mark couldn’t be sure that he would always be there to put a buffer between them, and he didn’t want to think of her as she was right now: wounded over thoughtless words from a man who drank too much and cared too little. How much peace would she ever have if they remained together? As much as it tore him apart inside to admit, he was very much afraid that he loved her enough to let her go. He had nothing more to offer her than himself and how much would that mean after a few more run-ins with his father? Where would she escape to for sanctuary after a nasty encounter with her mother? To his house, where she would be nervous every time the doorbell rang? Goddammit to hell.
It looked as if this would be the one time that he walked away and left his heart behind, along with any future happiness that he had dared to envision. If love was the subject of so many fairy tales, then why did it fucking hurt so much?
• • •
Crystal curled up in the soft sheets of Mark’s bed. She’d chosen his side so she could smell his scent on the pillow she’d pulled in close to her. He’d been in just a few moments earlier to bring her the promised pain relievers. Not that she actually needed them. She’d made up the headache excuse to get a few moments to feel sorry for herself. The horror she’d felt over having the parents of the man that she loved thinking she was trash was devastating.
Even with her mother constantly putting her down, she’d never actually thought of herself as not good enough for someone she cared about. Possibly not the best daughter or even wife, but never inferior to others. She considered herself an average woman who dressed nicely enough and worked hard to support herself. It was quite obvious that those were not qualities admired by the DeSantos. Instead, she’d been labeled as a tramp who was out to deceive Mark into allowing her access to his money and his bed. She’d read stuff like that in novels but never thought she’d encounter it in real life. It hadn’t been an issue with Bill because they were both of similar upbringings.
Mark came from money and a different set of circumstances from anything she’d ever known. Of course, he had an amazing house and cars that she was certain cost a lot of money. But he’d never made her feel as if he was better than her because of it. She had found him to be very levelheaded and . . . normal. He cooked when the situation called for it, he cleaned up after himself, and yes, he had a driver, but in his defense, he spent a lot of his travel time working. She’d also heard Denny mention the company plane, but again, that was to be expected of a man in his position. He owned a company and had to travel sometimes at the last minute. He didn’t lord it over her and brag about the riches that were available to him. He was just Mark, the man who made her feel better than she ever had about herself. The man who called her “Angel” and treated her like one.
His parents, though—that was a different story. He’d told her that his father would make her mother look nice, but she hadn’t actually believed it until today. Marcus DeSanto was a nasty piece of business. She wasn’t as certain about his wife. Celine DeSanto had tried to defuse the situation and had apologized for her husband. Then she’d literally hauled him away. From the conversations Crystal had had with Mark, she didn’t think that was a usual occurrence. Maybe Marcus had even gone so far this time as to have embarrassed his wife.
She’d always thought that the disdain her mother showed her was an isolated incident. Bill’s parents, while being aloof and rather cold, had never been ugly. She didn’t get the sense from them that they were disappointed that he’d married her. She didn’t think it really mattered much to them either way. And they’d never been insulting over anything—even the divorce.