“Of course, she won’t.” Tanya walks over to the window and pulls back the heavy, forest-green curtains that frame the tall windows, dusted with frost. “You broke her heart and then had the gall to show up with that Dior-wrapped, petty bitch in stilettos. Ember isn’t a saint. Sheissomeone who feels everything and hides it just well enough to make you think she doesn’t.”
“I know I screwed up.”
She turns, arms crossed. “Then fix it. But don’t do that thing men do—make one apology, get cold feet when it doesn’t magically solve everything, and retreat into self-pity. You want her?”
“Yes.”Desperately.
“Then, show up every day. Try again. And again.”
“I have no fucking idea what to do. I mean…I keep trying to talk to her, but honestly, I’ve got no clue what to say if she gives me a chance.”
Tanya gives me a dry look, barely hiding her irritation. “No clue? You’re a neurosurgeon. You’re smart. Get. A. Clue.”
I fling my arms up in the air, and the pouch of tea falls on the floor. I pick it up and set it next to me in bed. “I threw us away, and she tells me she’s been waiting for me, loving me. And then…damn it! I should never have brought Calypso?—”
“Please.” Tanya raises a hand to silence me. “You brought that tasteless clown along as a shield against what you feel for Ember. It’s time to be honest.”
I run a hand over my face and stand up. I walk up to the small seating area and pick up a cut-crystal decanter from the dark wood bar cart in the corner, which I know has scotch, the Islay kind. Peaty.
“Drink the tea, not the alcohol.” Tanya yanks the decanter away from me and sets it back down. “What on earth is the matter with you? You want something, you usually go get it.”
“I’m fifteen years older than her,” I say in frustration. “I…I’m bad at relationships. I don’t….”
Tanya tilts her head. “Ember doesn’t give two hoots about your age, and neither should you. And she’s not waiting for your sweetness, Ransom. She’s waiting to see if you’re serious. And right now, she’s expecting you to give up.”
Her words punch harder than Aksel’s fist.
“What if she never…what if she just keeps walking away?”
Tanya makes a face. “Oh, you poor thing, so insecure.” Her sarcasm cuts cleaner than a number ten blade in the hands of someone who knows exactly where it hurts. “You keep saying how much older you are than her, so act your damn age.”
I huff out a breath at her verbal beating. “I thought you were here to make me feel better.”
“What gave you that dumb idea?”
My room is decorated in warm, moody tones—deep charcoal walls, aged leather armchairs that look like they belong in an old London club, and a low-slung slate-gray velvet sofa that Tanya sinks into with a sigh.
I crouch by the fireplace, striking a match and holding it to the kindling stacked neatly beneath the logs.
“I can understand that she thinks it’s guilt talking when I say I love her.”
“Well,” Tanya says gently, “don’t you think you’d feel the same way after that debacle in the library where you said things you now say weren’t true?”
The hearth, framed by rough-cut stone, crackles to life as flames catch and dance.
“Theyweren’ttrue.” I stand and look at the fire. “The truth is that…I have had to stop myself from reaching out to her. Every time I went to Boston, I…I’d go by her building like a creepy stalker and…ultimately chicken out.”
“Then man up, Ransom.”
I rub my temple, feeling a stress headache coming on. “What does that even mean?”
“You can’t just sayI love youand think it’ll solve a damn thing. You show her that you’re the kind of man who earns her back. Gesture by gesture. She needs to see that you’re not running. That you’re not afraid of the hard parts. That you’re in it. For good.”
I nod slowly, the ache in my chest swelling again. “What if I’ve already messed it up too badly?”
“Then you become the man who tries anyway. The man who doesn’t stop.”
She stands, brushing invisible lint off her cashmere dress. “And next time you say something important to her, make sure she knows you’re not performing. Be raw. Be unpretty. Be honest. Ember can handle anything except dishonesty. She was raised in a family that thrives on calling bullshit.”
