“It is.” His voice was gentle. Unbearably gentle. “And we both know it’s not just the visions.”
The room seemed to shrink. The golden light seemed to dim.
“Stuart.”
“I know about you and Eric.”
The words landed like a slap. I felt my face go hot, then cold. “No, Stuart, there’s nothing going on with Eric.”
He held up a hand. “I know it was just the one time. I think it might have been what pulled me out.” He flashed a sideways grin as I tried not to melt into the floor. “Sorry about that,” he said, with a tiny smile that somehow seemed both amused and sad.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were never going to wake up.”
“And you love him.” The words were simple, matter-of-fact.
“I love you, too,” I said, hearing a note of panic in my voice.
“I know,” he said. “The question is whether loving me is enough. Whether it’s the same as what you feel for him.” He squeezed my hands gently, then let go. “And we both know the answer to that.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that what we had mattered, that it was real and important and worth fighting for.
But the words wouldn’t come. Because he wasn’t wrong. He’d never been wrong about the things that mattered.
“I love you, Kate, I always will. You and Timmy and Allie.” He drew a breath. “I see me, too. In the visions, I mean. Two paths. One staying here with you and the kids. One going to Rome. Learning. Doing something terribly important. Away from my family, yes. But knowing that you’d have each other. That you’d be as safe as you can considering the world you live in.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“And Timmy?”
“I’ll still see him.” He grinned. “More than he’ll see me if I learn to control this thing.”
I actually laughed. “Won’t that make his teenage years special?”
We shared a smile, and I sagged a little. “I get it,” I said. “I’m so sorry, but I get it. I do love you.”
He moved closer and took my hands in his. His fingers were warm. Familiar. How many times had I held these hands? How many years?
“I know you love me. That was never the question.”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I whispered.
“I know that, too.” He reached up, touched my cheek. The gesture was so tender it made my throat ache. “You held back as long as you could. I know what that cost you.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“It was more than most people would have given.” He dropped his hand. Stepped back. “I’m not angry, Kate. I was, for a while. But then I realized—being angry at you for loving him is like being angry at the sun for rising. Some things just are. You can fight them, or you can accept them.”
“And you’re accepting?”
“I’m letting go and looking forward. You’re the one who needs to think about acceptance.”
“Oh,” I said, not sure how to respond, or even what exactly he meant.
He pointed to his head. “I believe this happened for a reason. And I’m going to Rome. To figure out what it is.”
I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to let him go, this man who had been my anchor for so long. Who had stepped into my life when I was drowning in grief and given me something solid to hold onto.
“I’ve said goodbye to Timmy. I’m going to go talk to Allie, then go over the books with Laura. I have a car coming in a couple of hours to take me to the airport. Take care of yourself, Kate.” He moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the frame. “And ask Eric not to be smug in victory. It’s not a good look for him.” He tapped his head. “And that if he hurts you, I’ll see it. And that I have a nasty right hook.”
