Romulus laughs, not in a mocking sort of way, but in a gently amused way.
“Sabrina,” he says. “The reason that you’ve caused me so much trouble, and stress, and heartache is because I do care about you.”
Huh? He definitely could have fooled me all of this time. Except for a few moments ago at the end of the driveway.
That felt different than it had before.
Romulus has to take a moment to clear his throat. “Down there, with your mother … I’m sorry about that.”
I’m taken aback for a second. I realize he must have heard it all. He probably sensed her coming before I did. His wolf senses are far more fine-tuned than mine—given his over a century of experience and the fact that I still haven’t completed the turning process.
Something that, at this point, I’m starting to wonder will ever happen.
But Romulus clears his throat again and continues.
“Sabrina, I want you to know that despite everything, even from the beginning, I have always thought of you as a daughter.”
I again find myself in a state of shock, which seems to be turning into the new status quo.
“But you wanted to kill me,” I say, unable to hide the disbelief in my voice.
“No,” he says. “I just knew that killing you would have made things a lot easier on everyone if I had. But I couldn’t have ever killed you, not even if I had really wanted to.”
He stops a second and shakes his head, covering the bottom half of his face with his hand as he does so, as if to hide the down-turned corners of his mouth.
I’m so confused … and I know Romulus can tell.
“The moment I saw you, I felt the bond too,” he says, after a moment. “Not in the way that my sons do, of course, but in the way a pack leader and even a father feels for his own long-lost daughter. I knew from the very first moment that, like it or not, you were going to be a part of my family.”
There’s no time left to be coy. So, instead, I’m painfully blunt.
“Certainly didn’t feel like it,” I say. “If that’s true, then why did you give me so much hell?”
“Isn’t that what fathers do? Give their daughter’s hell when they’re being reckless and impulsive?” He moves his hand away from his face, and his grimace has started giving way to a slight, albeit a little sad, smile. “Haven’t you seen me treat my own sons the same way? Pack life isn’t easy. You have to be tough if you want to survive.”
Isn’t that what fathers do?
I wouldn’t know. My own father made my life an actual living hell. But not because he cared or because he was trying to prevent me from being reckless.
He did it purely out of hate and a perverse sense of narcissistic control.
“I’m no Lydia, but I do think I know something of what you’re thinking,” Romulus says, leaning forward slightly. “I know that your own parents have let you down. I know about your father and how abusive and horribly he treated you and I will never treat you in that way, as I’m sure you already know. I know that your relationship with your mother is a harder thing to fix. She should have been there for you, especially now, and that is a hurt that cuts deep.”
He has to stop for a second, and from the look on his face, I wonder if there’s something more from his past that he hasn’t told me. Something about his own parents … who I realize only now have been noticeably absent from both his pack and Remus’.
He doesn’t give me time to dwell on that thought for long.
“But if you’ll let us, Lydia and I would like to be your parents now. We both love you, and not just as pack leaders, but as parents as well. Our sons love you and you are carrying our grandchildren right there in your belly,” he says as he points at my stomach. “And even if none of this would have worked out the way it has, for better or for worse, I would have still welcomed you into my pack and treated you as a daughter regardless.”
It seems like my body never runs out of tears. I feel myself start to cry all over again, despite my own attempts to stop it.
“We will always be here for you, Sabrina. We will protect you and love you and we won’t abandon you like your human parents did. If you’ll have us.”
It reminds me of that golden day, not too long ago, when Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb proposed to me here, in this very house.
It feels like a lifetime ago, and in a way … it was.
I take another sip of my wine and taste the saltiness of my tears on the rim of the glass. I act like I am thinking over what he said as if it’s a proposition I have to consider. But it’s no use.