The hush hanging over the polished wood and marble foyer made him think of church. They’d been Easter-and-Christmas Catholics when he was growing up, but he hadn’t even done that much in years. Though Rencliffe wasn’t a religious school, he still half-expected a priest or nun to appear to greet him. Instead it was an older woman, who led him down the eerily quiet hallways to Mira Patel’s book-lined office.
She was surprisingly young—probably thirty. According to the framed diplomas behind her desk, she’d attended the University of Delhi and Oxford, so clearly she was pretty freaking smart. Her black hair was tied back in a twisty bun, and she had big eyes behind her gold-framed glasses.
If they were in a porno, she’d be about to let down her hair, take off her glasses, and rip open her cream blouse to reveal big tits. She’d hike up her skirt and—
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Derwood. It’s good to meet you.” She sat in the padded leather chair behind her desk as Logan took one of the guest chairs and shoved away the stupid porno thoughts. “The headmaster’s absent on personal business, so I’m handling Connor’s case for the moment.”
“Right. I’m sorry if the kid’s been acting up again.”
“Mmm.” She leaned forward in her chair, folding her hands on the shiny wood desk, her nails gleaming with pale polish. “I hope you don’t mind if I go back over the particulars with you?”
“Um, the particulars?” Jesus, he felt like he was back in high school about to fail an exam he hadn’t studied for.
“Connor’s background. How we’ve gotten to where we are now. I understand you were a recent addition to his life before his mother passed away?”
Dull pain throbbed in his chest, and he forced a breath. “Uh-huh. Veronica and I met about a year and a half ago. I was in an accident at work and had to be in the hospital for a few months. Veronica was my nurse.”
A memory flashed—the wedding march playing on someone’s phone at the hospital chapel, Logan dragging an IV and Veronica still in her purple scrubs, her fellow nurses throwing confetti made of paper from the shredding bin.
Clearing his throat, he added, “My life was shit, and she was the one good thing.” He shifted on the hard-backed chair. “Um, excuse my language.”
Ms. Patel smiled. “Shit happens. You’re recovered now?”
“Mostly. If I push too hard, I get out of breath. But it’s fine.”
She nodded. “So you and Connor’s mother married quite quickly?”
“Yeah. Within a couple months. Dumb, I know. But I loved her and was so sure we’d be together forever.” He snorted. “Then, you know. Reality smacked us upside the head. She brought me home from the hospital, and in a few weeks we were driving each other crazy. Living with someone’s not all roses and unicorns.”
“No, it certainly isn’t.” Ms. Patel smiled wryly. “Compromise isn’t easy.”
He shifted, hot trickles of shame in his gut. “We tried, though. We did. We really cared about each other, even if we didn’t fit.”
“Of course.”
“And I’ve tried with Connor. I really have.” He cringed internally at his defensiveness.
She eyed him sympathetically. “I know you have. It’s a challenging situation. Thirteen can be a tough age already, and Connor’s faced a traumatic loss and major life changes. Plus, you’ve suddenly found yourself a single father. It’s an adjustment, to say the least.”
A single father.
It was so weird to think of himself that way. He wasn’t qualified to be anyone’s dad, let alone a single one. Logan nodded. “Yeah.”
“What was your relationship like before his mother’s passing?”
Passing. As if she’d drifted off down a lazy river in the sunshine. Logan hated when people didn’t just call it what it was. Veronica hadn’t passed anywhere—she was rotting in a hole in the ground. He choked down the resentment. Ms. Patel was only being polite.
“We didn’t really have a relationship. He was pissed when I married his mom, and I can’t blame the kid for that. He hardly talked to me when he was home on vacations from school, and I didn’t know what to say to him anyway. Things got very tense with me and Veronica. Then she died.”
“It was an aneurysm? That must have been quite a shock.”
He tugged at a loose thread on the cuff of his Henley. “Yeah. I’d spent the night on my sister’s couch since Veronica and I had been going at each other all day. They said even if I’d been home, it wouldn’t have mattered.” But maybe the docs were wrong. If I’d been there…
“Then Connor discovered her in the morning since he was home for the summer.”
Hearing Ms. Patel say it out loud was a steel toe to Logan’s nuts, guilt surging through him. Jaw clenched, he nodded. A clock ticked on the wall, each second louder than the last. His mind filled with red flashing lights, the sympathetic—yet definitely suspicious—cops escorting him inside his own place, a sheet over Veronica on the bedroom floor, waiting for a body bag. The poor kid sitting in the kitchen with a female cop.