The One For Me (Danver #8)(77)

“Aren’t I just the popular one this week,” she joked weakly against his chest. “First my mother and now your parents. Maybe we should introduce them; I think they’d have a lot in common.”

He chuckled lightly at her attempt at humor, but his heart wasn’t in it and from the sound of her voice, neither was hers. She’d been the victim of far too many angry words in the last twenty-four hours. None of which she’d deserved. She’d attended marriage counseling with her ex-husband because she was a nice person and he was hurting. Not the best idea, but that was the type of caring person she was. And for that, her mother had ripped into her in public for not being the malleable puppet that she wanted her to be. Now his own parents had joined the fray on the premise that he needed to be protected from a money-grubber. What a joke. The only thing his father was afraid of was that there would be another person with a claim to the DeSanto money or, hell, even more if he had children. “Ah, Angel, I’m sorry that I don’t bring anything better to the table than what you’ve already got. I’ve never given much thought to it beyond the usual misery, but right now I really wish I had better to offer you in that area.”

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.