Chapter 87

“Mother.” Quinton was beside me and held me close. “Does it ever get easy?”

“No. That’s why Sebrings dally where we may, but are cautious in giving our hearts away. Do you have a handkerchief?”

He took one from his pocket and carefully dried my eyes. “Do you ever regret it?”

“No,” I repeated. “Loving your father was the most wonderful experience, and even if I’d known we were only to have those twenty years together, I wouldn’t have given them up to spare myself the last twenty-four without him. I just…I wish I’d told him how much I loved him. I hope you won’t make that mistake, sweetheart.”

“No chance of that. My opportunity at the brass ring has passed me by.”

Whether erroneous or not, my son had carried that belief, that secret sorrow, all these years. I began to swear, flatly and coldly, in Farsi. Quinton stared at me in surprise.

“Everyone thinks of you as the ice queen.”