“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you admit that about anyone before,” Ambrose noted. “Pray tell, whyis it such a disaster that you have fallen in love with the woman you’re married to? If anything, it should be a cause for celebration.”
“In an ideal world, yes,” Nicholas replied, forlorn. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it might have looked like if he wasn’t so damaged. He could have admitted his feelings to her instead of retreating like this and hurting her in the process.
Ambrose raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “I used to believe that I had complicated feelings when it came to matters of the heart. But you seem to have surpassed even me.”
“Great,” Nicholas said, dryly.
“You’ve got this damnable habit of sabotaging yourself when it comes to love, don’t you?”
Nicholas turned away, his jaw tightening. “It’s not sabotage, Ambrose. It’s practicality. I can’t—” He stopped himself, his voice faltering before he forced himself to continue. “I can’t love her the way she deserves. I don’t even know how to.”
“Did she say that to you, or are you assuming all on your own?”
Nicholas let out a sharp exhale and stood up abruptly. After a few moments of pacing, he finally answered.
“I do not have to assume what I already know. Love requires vulnerability and trust. Youknowthe conditions in which I was raised. I cannot give her that.”
“Ah, so we’re blaming your parents now, are we?” Ambrose said, his tone wry. “I don’t recall them standing in your way when you married her.”
Nicholas spun around, “You cannot shift the blame entirely onto me for being the way I am.”
“I did not mean to imply that,” Ambrose’s tone softened slightly. “But as a friend, I must point out what you might not see. I know you keep people at arm’s length because it’s safer that way. I know you’ve built walls so high even you don’t know what’s onthe other side of them. But if you are truly in love, as you say, I would think it is at least worth the effort to try.”
Nicholas’s fists clenched at his sides. “Thank you for pointing out the obvious. But unfortunately, it is not so simple.”
“Or you’re making it more complicated than it ought to be.”
Nicholas shook his head in frustration. “You don’t understand what it’s like to look at her and feel… everything. To feel like you’re losing control of yourself. I left because if I stayed, I would’ve hurt her.”
“And leaving didn’t hurt her?” Ambrose shot back, pointedly.
Nicholas felt at a loss for words for a moment. He hadn’t wanted to think about that. About how she had looked at him when he’d told her he was leaving. Her pain was palpable.
“She’s better off without me.”
“You keep telling yourself that, but I don’t think you believe it.”
Nicholas didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the window. Ambrose let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again.
“You know,” he said, his tone lighter now, “you’re not as complicated as you like to think you are. You love her. That’s the beginning and the end of it. The rest is just noise.”
Nicholas turned to face him, his expression weary. “And what am I supposed to do with that?”
“For starters?” Ambrose stood, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. “Stop wallowing. Come to dinner at my estate. It’ll do you good to get out of this cave you’ve buried yourself in.”
Nicholas gave him a look, but Ambrose merely grinned. “Don’t argue with me, Nicholas. You know better than to do that.”
“Fine. But don’t expect me to be good company,” Nicholas agreed, albeit begrudgingly.
“I never do,” Ambrose replied, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he moved toward the door. “I think this will do you some good. If you’re going to sulk, at least do it over an excellent roast.”
Nicholas managed a faint smile. “How fortunate for me.”
“You see? You’re already sounding marginally less insufferable. Now, all you need is a change of clothes, and I shall see you at my estate tomorrow night. Take care, friend,” Ambrose quipped, and with that, he strode out, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
Left alone once more, Nicholas was left to ponder over Ambrose’s words. Did he have a point? Was it merely cowardice disguised as practicality?
He glanced at the glass of brandy he had abandoned earlier. For a moment, he considered drinking the rest but thought better of it. A clear head was what he needed though clarity seemed increasingly elusive these days.
