Steve ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “We are.” Even to him, what he’d said wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.”
“I’m more disappointed than upset. How can I trust you when you still aren’t completely honest with me?”
The tears shimmering in Eden’s eyes made his heart ache. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. So, he’d start at the beginning, where his love of sculpting had come from. Eventually, she’d hear how his life unraveled to reveal a man who didn’t know who he was anymore.
“I studied at a prestigious arts school,” he began slowly, hoping Eden still cared enough about him to listen. “I won an international sculpting award when I was eighteen. My parents were devastated when I told them I wanted to join the army. They thought I was throwing away a career that could change my life. But I wanted to make a difference. I didn’t think I could do that with sculpting.”
Eden’s eyes softened, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“You already know that when I was diagnosed with PTSD, I left the army. Sculpting was the only thing that relaxed my mind and made the symptoms less severe. A few years ago, a friend saw one of my pieces and convinced me to enter it into an Italian sculpting competition. After I won, things changed quickly. An agent began representing me. My work was featured in major art galleries, and I started getting commissions from all over the world. My popularity grew and so did my income but, inside, I was a mess. The pressure to create better sculptures, to push the boundary of what people expected of me, was more than I could handle. When mom died, it was even worse. Some friends from the army told me John had started a PTSD support group. So, I came to Sapphire Bay to see him, and never left.”
Eden took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me all of that when we last spoke about your career?”
“I didn’t want you to see me differently. I want to be Steve Thompson, the guy you met in Sapphire Bay, not Steven Gromwell, the award-winning sculptor.”
Eden looked at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why did you choose Gromwell as your sculpting name?”
“It was my grandmother’s maiden name. She was a great person. At Christmas, we’d bake gingerbread houses and spend all night decorating them. After she died, our family was never the same.”
Eden crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
If Eden was ever going to trust him, he needed to tell her everything. “I’ve bought three commercial buildings with a property development company based out of Bozeman. And I have about four million dollars invested in different funds.”
Eden’s mouth dropped open. “Are you joking?”
Steve shook his head. “I want you to trust me.”
Eden looked into his eyes. “I fell in love with Steve Thompson. I don’t know Steven Gromwell.”
His heart ached at her words. “He’s the same person who loves you beyond measure. He’s the man who gets out of bed each morning, worried he’ll do something to hurt the only woman who’s changed his life for the better. He’s the same man who’d do anything to make you happy.”
Eden didn’t say anything for so long that he thought he’d lost her forever. When she was ready, she uncrossed her arms and held his hands in hers. “I don’t care how much money you have. All I need is for you to be honest with me. No more secrets.”
He nodded, relief washing over him. “No more secrets. I promise.”
They stood by the lake, holding each other close, the tension between them easing.
Later, as they walked back to The Welcome Center, Steve felt a sense of hope. He knew they still had challenges to face but, with honesty and love, he hoped they could overcome anything.
Chapter19
Eden stood in the middle of her house on Chestnut Drive, surrounded by timber framing, exposed floorboards, and boxes of building supplies waiting to be unpacked. Although only the bathroom and one bedroom were ready, she’d moved in from The Welcome Center. This way, she could work on the house more efficiently, without the hassle of traveling back and forth. Plus, it made her feel like she was taking a step toward making her fixer-upper a home.
Despite the progress she was making on the remodeling, she still had a lingering caution around Steve. While she appreciated his honesty and loved him deeply, she couldn’t shake off the unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach.
If he couldn’t trust her with the identity he used as a sculptor, then that was a problem. Would anything or anyone be able to fix Steve’s trust issues?
The sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention. Moments later, Shelley appeared in the doorway, a warm smile on her face and two bags of food in her hands.
“I brought lunch,” Shelley announced, setting the bags on the makeshift kitchen counter. “I thought you could use a break.”
Eden smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Shelley. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I forgot to eat.”
Shelley started unpacking sandwiches, juice, and tray of strawberries. “How are you settling in?”
“It’s a work in progress,” Eden replied, glancing around. “But it’s starting to feel like home. Did you drive yourself here?”
“If only,” she said with a sigh. “I’m so big that I need to push the driver’s seat back to get behind the wheel. But, when I do that, my feet don’t reach the pedals. John think’s it’s hilarious.”
