His Gilded Cage: Marco's Story (A Novella) (Bedroom Secrets Series Book 5) by Emma Thorne

Author:Emma Thorne [Thorne, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance
Publisher: Hidden Beach Publishing
Published: 2016-05-27T22:00:00+00:00

We walked inside Cabana three. There was a small sitting room with French doors that opened onto a private patio. We passed a closed door that I assumed led to a bedroom. Outside there was a white gazebo with a sleek infinity pool running parallel to the ocean.

Veronica pulled two canvas lawn chairs together and we sat beside each other facing the water.

I remembered my mother telling me about this place when I was a boy, but I was ashamed that I’d never visited this place on my own, even after living in Sayulita. I had been afraid that seeing a place she considered so dear would cause me pain. Instead a sense of gratitude flickered inside of me. I didn’t feel afraid to ask questions. I wanted to know her more instead of collapsing under the weight of my grief.

“Thank you,” I said to Veronica, leaning back in my chair.

“For what?” Veronica said. She held the stack of folders on her outstretched

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said. “It feels better than I expected. I have feared this place for so long without even realizing it . . .”

“I can see why your mother loved this place.”

“Me too,” I said, my gaze returning to the blue of the ocean. “I wish I’d had the chance to share it with her.”

Veronica smiled and opened a manila folder in her lap.

“If you believe the police report, your mother chose to kill herself in Cabo but she clearly had plans to stay here later. Why does a suicidal woman make a reservation and then change her mind?” Veronica said, sifting through papers. “We have the original case report, there are statements from the crew, your father, and employees in your father’s house all stating your mother was unstable, depressed, volatile.”

Veronica read, “Mrs. Amador spends most of her time crying in her room. She hides out below deck. Mrs. Amador does not eat and rarely sleeps. She doesn’t get out of bed until dark. She suffers from a great depression.”

“A great depression,” I repeated. I closed my eyes. “I don’t remember her like that Veronica. She is vibrant in my memories. She is joyful. She used to tell me stories about the faeries in our garden and talk about the places we would travel together someday. I have heard this theory of depression before, but I’ve never admitted to anyone that it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Because you needed to believe,” Veronica said. “I remember your mother too. I don’t think she was happy but I don’t think she killed herself. I think she loved you too much.”

My vision blurred and I took a breath. I wanted to tell Veronica how much it meant to hear those words spoken out loud, but I couldn’t.

It had been so long since I’d allowed myself to think of my mother’s love and how it felt like a force field. Wallowing in sorrow over what I had lost felt self-indulgent and weak. I had told myself that my strength allowed me to move on, but that was a lie.

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