I don’t know what I expected him to say. Maybe a joke about the money again, or the power. That he thought he could sell organs on the black market. I would have expected him to say anything but the truth.
“I wanted to fix something I didn’t break,” he says, pausing as he works his jaw back and forth. “I wanted to be able to remove the bad parts from someone. The pain, the disease– whatever it was–I wanted to be able to fix someone. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying inside, Annie.” He exhales roughly, pausing to swipe a hand through his messy hair. “I know what it's like to beg and plead with the world to let you go. And while I can’t heal someone’s mind, I thought if I could remove the physical pain, maybe I could give people a second chance at the world.
“I grew up thinking that it was a weakness to be good, to love, to have hope and to assume the best in someone. I decided I wanted to heal, but then lost myself along the way and ended up surrounding myself with people who have just as much evil in them that I started out trying to rid.” He takes a tentative step closer to me, and when I don’t break eye contact, he drops to one knee and grabs the envelope still lying on the floor in front of me. He hands it to me again, and this time I take it. “Youare good, Annie. You give everything to those around you. You’re strong and resilient as hell. I think you have that same motive in you. You said you wanted to help people who didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
He shuffles around me until he reaches the couch and he sits down, the old springs creak under his weight. He nods to the envelope in my hands. “You need to be out there, helping people. I want you to spread your happiness wherever you go. Let me make this right for you.”
Confusion knits my brow, and I look at the envelope in my hand, turning it over and back again, searching for writing or a name, but it’s blank.
I tear open the seal and pull out the stack of documents inside. My mind whirrs as I rifle through them, seeing everything from applications to bank statements, from letters of recommendations to copies of emails.
“Colt,” I croak out. “What is all this?”
“It’s everything you need to go back to Africa. Go finish your residency the way you want to.”
My hands tremble, a few of the smaller slips of paper falling loose and floating through the air to land at his feet. “But what, what do you mean? Whatisthis?”
“You have a dream that’s so beautiful, and I want you to chase it so badly I’d sell every possession I have to give it to you. I’d live on the street in a flimsy cardboard box if it meant you’d be happy.” He reaches an arm out to me, fingers curling in just before they touch the tip of my hair, but he pulls back abruptly, his hand falling to rest at his side.
I flip through the papers in my hands again, seeing a copy of an email chain from Colt to the director at Compassion Cruises, confirming my delayed start date in two weeks. There’s a one-way plane ticket tucked between letters of recommendations from nearly every surgeon at Grace General. I study one set of documents that look like a retainer to a fancy defense lawyer, and on the bottom, a copy of a bank transfer of funds in my name that has so many zeros my eyes cross.
“I… I can’t.” I gather the pile of papers in my hands and reach out to give them back to Colt. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
He leans back on the couch, crossing his arms to stay out of reach from the papers I’m desperately trying to thrust into his hands. “It’s already done, Annie. All you need to do is pack your things, get on the plane, and finish out your residency doing exactly what you want to do.”
“But… but…” I reach a hand up to squeeze my bottom lip, running my tongue over my front teeth to try to stifle the tears. “This is an insane amount of money. What about your plan to buy the condo upstairs? What about everything you want? How did you do this? And why? I won’t be able to repay this amount of money for years, Colt.”
He laughs quietly, running a hand through the side of his hair, and it’s now that I finally soak him in. The dark circles under his eyes, the exaggerated creases that line them. His hair is disheveled, his normal scruff thicker from days of not shaving. His pullover sweater is so wrinkled it looks like the man hasn’t slept or eaten for days, and my heart breaks all over again.
“I don’t need the condo upstairs,” he says softly. “I don’t need a wine wall. I don’t need the latest surround sound, or beer on tap. I don’t need an espresso machine that’s handmade in Italy that I don’t even know how to use.”
I chuckle at the mention of his ridiculous espresso machine, my tears beginning to dry with the act. I scoot toward him, rising to my knees to reach for him.
He raises a hand, running his calloused fingers across my temple to swipe the damp hair off of my face. “All that time and money was spent trying to figure out why I never felt like the home I finally earned for myself didn’tfeellike a home. I felt restless, empty. I thought the more I bought, the more that the ache deep inside my chest would subside, but it didn’t work.”
He reaches for my hands, taking both of my frozen ones into his warm palms. Folding them in between his, he brings them to his mouth to blow warm air into the small space.
“You want to know the first time I felt like I was truly home?”
I nod.
He smiles a sad smile. “It started the weekend you stayed with me after getting sick. I woke up on the couch next to you and felt such a sense of comfort, I didn’t even recognize it for what it was. There have been many nights since then where I stay awake once you fall asleep, just to have more time with you. Dancing with you in the darkness of my living room, all of it. Those quiet moments will be etched in my mind for the rest of my life, because when I look at you, I see my home.”
My head falls forward and I move my body closer to him until my forehead rests against his legs.
“You are my home, Annie,” he says again. He tucks a hand under my chin to usher my head up and my eyes on his. “You are my home, the woman I love, and I can’t let you leave without telling you that.”
I reach my arms up, hands grasping his forearms and he leans forward, pulling me until I’m nestled in his lap. The damp, frozen skirt of my dress bunches around my thighs as I straddle him, wrapping my arms tighter around his waist, desperately needing to have him near me. “I thought you gave up on us.” I cry, choking on a sob. I truly thought that he chickened out, that his relationship with my dad meant too much to him, or that his career meant more to him than what we had.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He moves to kiss the top of my head, then digs his arms between us to pull me back so he can look me in the face. “I never doubted us. You. I had to let you believe that I chose me, becausehehad to believe that I chose any option but you. I never doubted you, or us. My feelings for you are the only thing I’ve been certain about in my whole life.” His eyes go soft, a look of sadness, or maybe understanding, filling them. “Your dad isn’t the man I thought he was.”
Colt inhales a heavy breath before launching into a story that has my head spinning. He tells me everything, from my dad’s initial plans and empty promises, to the threats and ultimatum that left Colt stunned. He tells me about the last three days and everything he’s done to ensure that my dad can’t ever hurt me. Even though my dad has proved countless times in the past that he’s a liar, that he can’t be trusted, I still held out foolish hope that this time he meant it. Only to find out about his plans to sabotage me from the start.
I pull back to look at Colt. “And at first you went along with it?”
His head falls with embarrassment. “I tried to, initially. That’s why I was such a dick to you from the start. I thought it’d be easy to ignore you, to play along with whatever Richard wanted even if it didn’t feel quite right.”
“How long did you go along with it?”
