“It’s not pity.”
“Then what is it?” She crossed her arms, waiting.
This was my chance to tell her the truth. I loved her. I’d loved her for years. That this wasn’t about charity or pity. This was about building a life together.
But before I could open my mouth, she spoke again.
“I’m going back to Seattle.”
I got to my feet, staring at her, sure I’d heard her wrong. “What?”
“When I talked with my parents today—telling them I needed help—they said I could come home.” Her voice was flat with the sound of defeat. “It’s time, Grady. I tried to make it on my own but I just can’t do it. I’m a college dropout running a sinking business with no health insurance or college funds for kids whodeserve so much better. It’s time I stopped being selfish, and just admit defeat. I’m going home. I’m going to sell the shop and the building. Move back. Maybe go back to school. Figure out what I should have done when I got divorced and screwed everything up.”
“You didn’t screw everything up.”
“Yes, I did.” She met my eyes. “I followed my heart instead of my head. Married the wrong person. Had kids I couldn’t afford. Stayed in a town where I’m barely surviving instead of going somewhere I could actually make it work. And now my daughter is bleeding from shoes that don’t fit and my son can’t go to a program he deserves. I’m thirty-four years old with nothing to show for it.”
“That’s not true.”
“You have twenty million dollars. You can do whatever you want. Go anywhere. Buy anything.” She wiped her eyes. “We’re not the same anymore. Maybe we never were.”
“Esme, that’s simply not true.”
“I’m tired.” She moved toward the hallway. “I need to go to bed. You should probably go.”
“Can we talk about this? Please?”
She stopped at the doorway to her bedroom, her back to me. “There’s nothing to talk about. You have your life. I have mine. And right now, mine needs to be in Seattle with my parents, figuring out how to actually provide for my kids instead of playing at being a florist in a town I can’t afford.”
“You’ve built a beautiful life here.”
“Beautiful doesn’t pay the bills.” She looked back at me, and the dejection in her eyes made it hard to swallow against the lump in my throat. “Thank you for offering to help. Really. But I can’t take it. I have to do this on my own. Or I have to admit I can’t do it and go home.”
“Esme—”
“Goodnight. Please lock the door behind you.”
She disappeared into her room.
Stunned, I stood there in the living room, Trevor at my feet, and stared at that closed door. I’d come here to tell her I loved her and that all I wanted was to build a life with her and the kids. But I’d bungled it completely, making it worse by offering to fix everything with money like she was a problem to be solved instead of the woman I loved.
Still, I’d thought she’d understand. I thought she’d see that the inheritance didn’t mean anything if I couldn’t use it to take care of them. Instead, she was leaving and moving back to Seattle. Leaving me and her business and her friends. Trevor whined, nudging my hand.
“I know, buddy,” I said. “I messed up.”
I grabbed my bag from where I’d left it by the door, looking back once at her closed bedroom door before heading down the stairs and into the October fog.
I made sure to lock the door behind me.
15
ESME
Iwoke up Saturday morning with Trevor’s nose pressed against my cheek. He’d scratched at the door in the middle of the night to be let into the bedroom. I’d stumbled through the dark to let him in, and he had immediately jumped into bed with me. Now, he whined softly. He knew something was wrong.
“I’m okay, boy,” I whispered, scratching behind his ears.
But that was beyond stretching the truth. I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Grady’s face when I’d told him to leave. The confusion and hurt on his face had seared into my memory. I doubted I’d ever erase it from my mind.
