Take a Chance (Chance, #1; Rosemary Beach #7)(37)

I couldn’t just stand here and wait on her. I couldn’t be left to wonder if she was okay after meeting her mother for the first time. I looked back at both men. “I’m going.”

“What? You’re just leaving? What happens when she comes back? You not ready to face that?” Mase asked, glaring at me.

“I’m going to her. I’m not leaving her. Someone needs to be there when she meets her mother.”

Mase’s angry expression changed to one of respect. He nodded. “Good.”

I didn’t ask if he wanted to come. I didn’t want him to. Three was a f**king crowd.

Harlow

When I walked into the large white home, which could only be described as a mansion, I was met at the door by a lady in a nurse’s uniform. “Can I help you, Miss?” she asked, not allowing me to enter the building.

Apparently The Manor in the Hills was harder to get into than a military base. I had shown the man at the gate my ID and Social Security card. It had taken him ten minutes to make a phone call and discuss my information before opening the tall iron gates that surrounded the place.

“I’m Harlow Manning. My father is here . . . and . . . my mother,” I replied. Saying that my mother was here felt strange. I’d had plenty of time during the ride to process all of this. Part of me understood why Dad and Grandmama had done this, but the other part of me hated them for it. It was like being robbed of something you could never get back.

The lady used the mini iPad in her hand to type in something. I assumed it was my name. “I will need to see your ID, please.”

Again? Really? I pulled my wallet out of my purse and handed her my driver’s license. She looked from me to the picture several times then typed in the info from my card and waited. After what seemed like forever she finally stepped back.

“Regina,” she called for one of the ladies behind the desk. “Please take her to Mrs. Manning’s room. Mr. Manning is in there and he’s expecting her arrival.”

So my dad knew I was here. Good.

I followed Regina through an area that looked like the lobby of a five-star hotel. We stopped at the elevator and she pressed in a code. The doors opened and we stepped inside.

Regina then put in another code before locking her gaze on me. “Whatever you do, do not upset Mrs. Manning. Mr. Manning’s presence keeps her calm, but if at any time she feels threatened, she gets very agitated and we have to sedate her. Mr. Manning hates that.”

My heart was beating rapidly in my chest. I was nervous. I hadn’t been nervous until now. Knowing I was about to see my mother and that she would be this . . . person . . . not like the smiling woman in the pictures . . . unresponsive . . . Was I ready for this?

And my dad. The way everyone described him with her didn’t sound like him at all. Kiro Manning did not get emotional. He screwed girls my age and he drank too much. He didn’t sit by a woman’s bedside and take care of her. It was as if I had walked into another life.

The doors opened and I followed Regina into the hallway. There was only one door on this floor. I wasn’t surprised. Dad didn’t do normal. Regina walked up to the door and knocked twice, then waited.

When the door opened I saw my father standing there. His hair hadn’t been brushed in what looked like days, and he also hadn’t shaved. He was wearing one of his tight T-shirts and a pair of jeans that were too tight for the average forty-five-year-old man. But he was Kiro. It was expected of him.

“Thank you, Regina. You may leave us,” he said in a defeated tone.

I just stood there and stared at him. I didn’t know this man. He looked like my dad but he also looked broken. I had never seen him look broken.

“I told her you were coming. I tell her about you every time I visit, so she knows about you. I think she’s excited to see you but I need you to be calm. Do not show emotion; it will upset her. Do not discuss this shit in front of her; she will get upset and I don’t want her f**king upset. I hate it when I can’t calm her. I hate those motherf*ckers and their damn needles getting near her. So you stay calm. You keep your questions to yourself and we will talk where she can’t hear us. I know you’re angry; I can see it in your eyes. But understand me: no one upsets Emmy. No one. Not even you. I won’t allow it.”

The fierce, protective look in his eyes was something I had never seen. The emotion in my chest wasn’t something I wanted to examine right now. This was a side of my father I had never known.

“Okay,” I said simply.

He nodded and stepped back. I walked into the room and it was as elaborate as the rest of the place. A chandelier hung in the entrance. Tall windows straight ahead were framed with elaborate crown molding.

“This way,” he said as we walked past a tall, marble fireplace and white leather-tufted sofas that set off a seating area. We entered another room, and this time my attention wasn’t on the décor; my eyes fell on a sheet of long, dark hair, which looked as if it had just been brushed. It draped over the back of what I assumed was a wheelchair, though it was unlike any I’d ever seen; it was made of soft, tufted leather, though the wheels were unmistakable. It faced tall picture windows, which looked out over rolling hills and a stream that ran nearby.

My father walked over to her and picked up a brush that was sitting on a chair beside her. Had he been brushing her hair before I arrived?