Rather than subject their daughter to a divorce, he and his wife had tried to hold it together for their child. But theirs had become a marriage in name only. Eventually, his ex had found someone else. She’d told Preston her new love would at least be around, which was better for Leslie than an absentee father. He’d bought into that, feeling guilty as hell and incapable of giving his child what she needed.
He’d replayed that decision a million times over, wondering if he’d fought harder for his marriage, for his child, if life could have turned out differently. Guilt piled on top of more guilt.
His baby girl had flown out of control during her teen years. Drugs, alcohol, sex. He’d tried grounding her, taking away her car, her allowance. He’d planned to take a vacation week to spend time with her, let her pick the vacation spot. She’d turned him down.
He should have persisted. He’d thought about it. Then it was too late.
Leslie ran off with her boyfriend the day after graduation, seventeen years old, pregnant. She’d ignored all offers of help and advice, determined to put her parents and the lifestyle she hated behind her. She hadn’t cared about wealth or private jets. Hadn’t wanted her own driver or a massive home. She’d even snubbed a doctor’s care.
She and her baby boy had died seven months into the pregnancy. Premature delivery. Something with the placenta presenting first. His daughter, Leslie, bled to death. The baby lived for two days before dying.
The Armstrong portfolio was worth billions and his daughter and grandson had died from lack of prenatal care because she hated him that much. So much, she wouldn’t take a penny or the most basic advice from him.
Some days the senselessness of it made it nearly impossible to hold back the rage.
The pain.
His child. Gone.
His ex blamed him. Damn it all, but he blamed himself, too.
So he put one foot in front of the other and existed.
Until that moment he’d seen Amie McNair. What was it about her? He wasn’t the type to fall for a pretty face. But she was more than that. Not that he’d known as much that night. He’d just looked into her eyes and he’d seen...
Something that scared the hell out of him. Something worth going back for.
A risk he couldn’t take again.
* * *
Pushing her grandmother’s wheelchair down the hall to the family quarters, Amie took comfort from the ever-present scent of oak and pine that permeated the main lodge at Hidden Gem Ranch. The family wing could be accessed privately from the outside, but tonight, she’d taken the easier path through the lobby, waving to the night desk clerk on duty.
Now, as they passed through double doors that required a pass code, Amie could still barely breathe after how close she’d come to kissing Preston right there on the dance floor in front of everyone. She did not need people gossiping about the two of them. Especially not now. Damn him for rattling her. She needed to keep a cool head for her grandmother’s sake.
Amie had never been known for her restraint.
She’d been sorely tempted to steal one more passionate moment with him before the inevitable conversation he’d insisted on having. But then her stomach had started churning and she’d made the excuse about secretaries and calendars before bolting.
Throwing up on his shoes would have been the worst way to tell him their night in the coat closet had created a baby.
Somehow, in spite of the condom, she was undeniably pregnant. She hadn’t been with anyone else in six months, so there was no question about the paternity. She needed to tell him soon and agree on a plan before she shared the news with her grandmother.
Amie glanced down at her grandmother’s gray head, her body frail from cancer, her once-long hair now short, just beginning to grow back from the latest round of treatments and surgeries that had only delayed the inevitable. “You overextended yourself this week, Gran.”
Amie backed into her grandmother’s suite of rooms, a decorative set of cattle horns on the door, an old joke of Gran’s from her days in the corporate boardroom when a competitor had called her bullheaded. Gran had proudly taken to displaying this set on the front of her chauffeur-driven vehicle. These days, they resided on her door, still a reminder of her strength.
“Of course I did.” Gran reached back to pat Amie’s fingers on the handle, hand trembling. “I would rather die a day or two earlier than miss making the most of my grandson’s wedding festivities.”
“Well, that’s blunt.” Amie maneuvered the chair along a Persian rug, past a long leather sofa, the fireplace roaring with a warm blaze despite the summer temperature outside. Her grandmother appreciated the ambience and didn’t mind the extra warmth in her more frail condition.
“You’re one to talk considering you are just like me, stubborn as hell.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.”
Gran would be happy about the baby, no question. But Amie worried about the future because there was no way the critically ill woman would live long enough to see her great-grandchild’s face. Amie couldn’t bear to add more concerns. Beyond making her final days peaceful, stress was also a danger to her already fragile health. Amie needed to get her life together and develop a plan regarding Preston’s role in their child’s life. In this much, at least, she could be like her grandmother. Strong. Driven.
Calculating.
As the wheelchair rolled to a stop, Mariah folded her hands in her lap again. The bedroom was at once familiar and alien with its soaring high ceilings in rustic woodwork, supported by exposed beams in a darker wood. A two-tiered cast-iron chandelier hung over the living area, casting a warm glow, with lights that looked like gently flickering candles. Two wingback chairs bracketed the stone fireplace where she’d shared secrets and hot chocolate with her grandmother. But now there were additions to the place—a wheeled hospital cart of medical supplies and a leather recliner where the night nurse usually kept watch.
No doubt, Gran’s caregiver would report in as soon as Amie sent her a text.
“Can I help you get settled? Bring you anything before I call for the nurse?” She took out her phone but wanted to stay. Wanted to visit the way they used to, never caring how late the hour.
Her eyes burned as she blinked away unexpected tears.
Her grandmother gestured for her to sit. “Amie, I’ve lived a full life. Of course I would have liked to have more, or at the very least live these last days in full health. But I’m making the most of the time I have left. I’ve seen one grandson married and have hopes the other grandson will be settled soon.”
Ouch. No mention of her granddaughter. Just that Stone was married, and Alex had found the perfect woman. She swallowed hard.
“Alex and Nina are happy, and her son, Cody, is precious.” She was happy for Alex. Her twin’s joy was her joy.
“It’s good to see a child here in the house again. I’ve missed the laughter of a little one.”
Did her grandmother know? Was she hinting for an admission or just referencing Cody? Shooting to her feet, she turned away to hide any telltale expressions on her face. Amie picked up the pewter pitcher on the bedside table and refilled her grandmother’s water glass, unable to pull her eyes away from the photo of her grandparents on their wedding day. “You should turn in early and conserve your strength for the family breakfast tomorrow.”
“I’m resting now and my strength isn’t going to return,” she said with a dry laugh. She sipped her water, cleared her throat and continued, “I don’t have to sleep to relax. Let’s talk.”
“About what?” Her skin prickled. She sat on the chaise