The Invitation by Adriana Locke

Ripley

The sun is hot and beads of sweat roll down my back. I recheck the address on the mailbox. Matches the one Nick found for me.

I knock again, the wood of the doorframe scratching my knuckle.

This could be a giant fucking mistake. But, I have to try. If Felicity isn’t going to protect her daughter and do what is right, I will. I’ll try, at least.

I lift my hand to knock again. The door swings open slowly just before I make contact.

Here goes nothing. I hold my breath as Felicity’s eyes find mine. A guard immediately slides over them.

“Hello, Ms. Hayes. I wondered if we could talk for a few minutes.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s fine.”

She puts her hand on her hip, much like Georgia does when she’s irritated.

“You have a lot of balls coming here,” she says.

“Trust me. I’d rather be doing a million other things besides this.”

She lifts a brow. “Then why are you?”

My heart races. Please let this work.

I choke back the hateful things I want to spew at her. I swallow the accusations, the insults, and the assumptions. None of those things will help me but, more importantly, they won’t help Georgia. And that’s why I’m here.

“I want you to know that I understand your contempt for me,” I say. “You hate me. I get it.”

“How could you possibly understand that? How could you know what your father did to me? What he probably did to countless other women? He swooped into my life, saying all the right things, declaring his love for me. Promised to take care of me. When, in reality, he had a beautiful wife and family at home with no intentions of leaving them. Again, how could you possibly understand that?”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I wish he had left us. It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier.”

Her eyes widen, but she says nothing.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, the wooden boards beneath me creaking. My brain is empty, forgetting the speech I prepared on my way over here, leaving me standing in front of Felicity fumbling like a fool. It’s not the look I was going for.

“My father hurt a lot of people,” I say, my voice even. “Every day I carry his last name—a name I should be proud of. A name that came from men and women who did remarkable things. It’s my mother’s last name—a woman who’s intelligent and strong. It’s my sister, Bianca’s, name. She’s one of the most brilliant women in the world. And my four brothers and nephew share it, too. They’re kind and hardworking. Men who I look up to and revere. Yet we all share a name that has been tainted and soiled by the man who should’ve protected us. We can never shake that attachment from him.”

Felicity opens the door and steps onto the porch.

“You have memories of him being nice to you,” I say. “That’s more than I have. My father broke my nose, tried to kill my mother and my sister, and gave me all kinds of hangups that nearly ruined my life. Like the one that told me I wasn’t good enough for your daughter.”

Her eyes narrow as if she’s still working through this whole situation. I just keep talking. I don’t know what else to do.

“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” I say. “I’m sorry for what he did to all of us. But all I can do is move forward, be a better man, and try to bring respect and dignity back to my family’s name.”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself to keep calm. This is my one shot. Quite possibly my only opportunity to talk to Felicity.

“Ms. Hayes, your daughter loves you more than anything in this world. I know you have to love her the same. How could you not? I mean, she is a little mouthy sometimes, but that’s her only real flaw.”

Her lip twitches as if she wants to smile, but she doesn’t. That’s where Georgia’s stubborn nature comes from.

“I would never want to hurt either of you, or come between you,” I say. “My family is my foundation, and I know how long and hard we hurt when our father tried to tear us apart. Thankfully, we rallied and are stronger than ever. I could never be the reason that Georgia doesn’t have you … even if it means that I have to give her up.”

She places a hand on the house to hold her steady, while tears gather in the corner of her eyes. My heart breaks at the thought of having to follow through with walking away from the love of my life.

“I haven’t really talked to her since I saw you at her house the other day,” I say. “I’d imagine she’s trying to figure out how to fix things between the two of you, and between us. You and me. And that’s not her place, Ms. Hayes. It’s not her role to speak for me or take on my troubles. I’ve given her the space she asked for, but now, I can’t stand the thought of her being alone and weighed down by this mess that’s ultimately created by my asshole father.”

Felicity wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “He is an asshole.”

I nod. Yes, he is.

“Please don’t let Reid Brewer get between you and your daughter,” I say. “Be angry with me. Hate me. It’s wrong, but I can bear that. But there’s no reason in the world that your beautiful daughter should be paying for the sins of a man in prison who she’s never met.”

She wipes a tear from her face. “This isn’t what I expected of you.”

We watch one another, as if we don’t quite know how to proceed. I’m completely in the dark with this.

What I do notice is the way Felicity’s eyes are the same warm honey color as Georgia’s. She nibbles her lip when she’s pensive. There’s a fire in her eyes that keeps me on my toes.

The words she slung at me the other day—telling me I’m not important in Georgia’s life, and I’m my father’s child—sting as they come to the surface again. But this isn’t about me. I have to brush those words off if I want to move forward.

And I have to find a way to do that. There is no other choice.

“If she ever needs anything—anything at all—please call me. That goes for you, too,” I say.

“Why can’t you tell her that yourself?”

I smile sadly. “Because she’s not exactly talking to me right now.”

“Aren’t you mad?”

At you? Yes. “No. I’m upset that she feels alone and that she’s hurting and freezing me out. But I’m not mad at her for it.”

“Why would you include me in that offer?” she asks.

“Because you may hate me and we may never be … friends, so to speak. And, from the looks of it, I might not get to spend a lot of time going forward with Georgia either.” Please, God, don’t let that be true. “But I’ve spent my entire adult life separated from her and it’s never changed the fact that I would do anything for her. I’ll still hang the moon for her even if she asks me to in a year from now—even if she decides that you’re right and I’m not worth her time.”

Felicity takes a deep breath, and it’s the first real sign I’ve seen that she’s comprehending someone else’s point of view. Georgia didn’t believe she’d ever come around, and I can see that, too. But something with Felicity has shifted. She’s no longer holding her head high as if she’s untouchable.

I don’t know her well enough, but I wonder if it’s shame that has caused her shoulders to drop just now, though. So I continue, hoping I’m reading her correctly.

“Because she’s important to me, and you’re important to her, then that means you’re important to me, as well. Even if you hate me.” My throat scratches, leaving my voice raspy. “And that’s all I came here to say.”

I turn to leave before I shout or cry or get on my knees and beg this woman to wake the fuck up and grow the fuck up. But I’m stopped before I even take the first step.

“Ripley …”

I look over my shoulder to see a tired, broken, scared woman crying behind me.

Oh, hell.

“She won’t talk to me,” she whispers. “She always calls when we fight. Or she just shows up here like nothing’s wrong and it’s all fine. But we’re five days in now and I haven’t heard from her. I was hoping you were her.”

“She should be at work right now.”

Felicity laughs sadly, wiping away the onslaught of tears streaming down her cheeks. “Of course, you knew that.”

I’m not sure what that means, so I just wait.

“I’ve really done it this time,” she says, her voice breaking. “I thought I was doing the right thing by trying to keep you away from her.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I also was … scared, I guess, that you were going to take her away from me. I know the dazzle of the Brewer name. I fell for it once. How can I compete with that?”

“You don’t have to compete with me. You’re her mother. She only gets one of those.”

She smiles at me through her tears. “Georgia said a bunch of things to me after you left and I haven’t been able to forget them. She said some terrible, awful … truths,” she says, spitting out the word. “And I don’t know how to act. I didn’t realize she felt this way.” Her lips quiver. “I didn’t realize I was acting that way.”

“That’s between the two of you. I can’t speak for Georgia, either. She has a voice that she’s capable of using.” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “And we know she doesn’t usually have a problem doing that.”

Felicity chuckles, still wiping her tears away. “Does she know you’re here?”

I shake my head. “She’s not talking to me much, either. A text here and there is really it.”

“Then why did you come?”

I slide my hands into my pockets and feel the twisting of my heart. My lungs burn from the struggle to breathe, and my stomach aches from being unable to eat much over the last few days.

“I came because putting Georgia in the middle of this is unfair to her,” I say. “She did nothing wrong. If you want to be upset with someone, let it be me. I’m a Brewer. Georgia’s just caught in this crossfire and is slowly becoming yet another one of my dad’s victims. And that is so wrong. It’s unacceptable. You have to see that.”

Slowly, she nods her head.

“I hope, and pray, that she’ll come back to me,” I say, emotion gathering in my throat. “And I also hope that the two of you can find a way to heal your wounds. In the meantime, if you guys need anything …”

“She deserves an apology from me.” Felicity stands taller, as if she’s accepted her fate. “But I don’t know how to do that.”

“Admit your mistakes.”

“I’m afraid she won’t talk to me. I wouldn’t talk to me.”

Her head falls forward, her body heaving with sobs. I suppress a groan as I reach for her and pull her into a hug. It only makes her cries louder.

It’s such an odd predicament to be in—comforting the woman who has caused the woman I love so much pain. I want to tell her to grow up, buckle up, and be a mother, but maybe she doesn’t know how. Maybe she deserves a little grace.

God knows I don’t always have the answers.

Finally, she pulls away, her eyes filled with gratitude. “I was wrong about you. I’m sorry, Ripley.”

I smile at her. “Thank you. Apology accepted.”

“Now I need to figure out how to do that with my daughter. It’s going to be a lot more complicated with her.”

I take a deep breath. “Would you like my help?”

“Would you do that?” She balks, stunned. “Would you help me fix things with Georgia?”

She looks as shocked by my offer as I feel. I need to learn to think before I speak.

“I can’t guarantee anything, obviously,” I say. “She has her own reasons and feelings, and they’re valid—even if they’re hard to hear.”

“I know.”

“But if you’d like someone to sit with you while you talk to her, I’ll do that.”

“Let me figure a few things out, and then I’ll call you this afternoon. Deal?” I ask.

She smiles the way Georgia does when she thinks things might be all right. “Deal.”

I nod and step off the porch, my mind reeling.

Peaches, I hope to see that smile on your face again soon. Very, very soon.