"They made it look easy," he murmured.
"No, they didn't," Theodore countered. "You were too young to see it. But they argued, and doubted, and made mistakes. The only difference is they did it together."
"I told her I couldn't give her children," he repeated himself, as though this has been his greatest sin, "And maybe I thought, f I said it firmly enough, it would stop her from hoping for it. Or from hoping for more of me than I knew how to give."
"You need to learn to let someone else take care of you for a change, brother."
"I don't know if I'd know how to begin," Oliver's mouth twisted.
"Start by telling her the truth," Theodore said. "Tell her you're scared and that you don't have all the answers."
"And what if it's not enough?" Oliver looked up at him, suddenly exhausted.
"Then at least you'll know you didn't run away," Theodore said softly. "At least you'll know you tried."
"You think she'd forgive me?"
"I think," Theodore said, his voice steady, "that she already has. And she's waiting for you to catch up."
Oliver swallowed hard. For a moment, he looked every bit as young as he had been at nineteen, when the weight of everything had fallen onto his shoulders.
"I am so damn tired," he whispered.
"I know," Theodore said. He squeezed his shoulder once more. "But you don't have to keep carrying it all alone. Go to her before you think of a thousand reasons not to."
Oliver lifted his gaze, meeting his brother's with a look that was searching. And then, very slowly, he nodded.
Theodore didn't say anything else. He simply inclined his head and left the study, the door closing softly behind him.
Oliver sat for a moment longer, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, gathering what strength he had left. And then he stood.
It was time to stop hiding. Time to bring her home.
CHAPTER 24
"Was he unkind to you?"
The question fell into the quiet like a pebble into still water. Alethea looked up from her teacup, startled to find all her sisters watching her with identical expressions of careful concern. She had arrived only a few days ago, and this was the first time that they were all gathered together like this.
"No," she said at once, her voice steadier than she felt. "No, he is never unkind."
"Then what is it? You have not looked yourself since you arrived." Joyce asked, worry creasing her forehead.
Alethea glanced down, tracing a fingertip along the rim of her cup. The truth pressed against her throat, but she could not quite bring herself to let it out.
"I am merely tired," she murmured. "It has been…a trying few days."
"You have scarcely eaten anything," Daphne gave a soft sigh of sympathy. "It is no wonder that you are tired."
"I am not very hungry," Alethea admitted. She set the cup aside, needing to free her hands of it. "Truly, there is nothing for you to worry over."
"Forgive us if we find that difficult," Felicity said gently. "You left his house without a word, and now you will not look any of us in the eye. If you are in trouble…"
"I am not," Alethea broke in. "Please, believe me. He has never done me harm."
She could feel them all studying her, weighing her words. But it was the truth, Oliver had never raised a hand or voice against her. The injury he had dealt her was of a quieter sort and only had to do with her feelings.
"Then…are you unhappy with him?" Daphne cleared her throat delicately.
