“Cal…”
“Wait. Let me…let me just say some stuff first.” He adjusts our hands so that our fingers are threaded together instead of mine holding his, then gently tugs until I sit up beside him. “After Nicole broke up with me, I kind of assumed I would remain alone for the rest of my life. Because how would I find something like that again? And it had to be something like that, because that was all I knew. The only way I could imagine a connection, a relationship, looking and feeling. But then…then you came along, Annie, and you just…completely fucked up my shit, didn’t you?”
I can’t help but chuckle at the bewildered expression on his face.
“To be clear, I mean that in the very best way possible,” he adds.
“I figured.”
“You came here and you argued with me and pointed out when I was a jerk and then youblackmailed me. You walked into Virtu and immediately hijacked my every thought, my dreams. My very being. It felt like I’d spent my whole life looking for the perfect rug—one I’d started to believe probably didn’t exist, or at least not in the right dimensions to fit the space. Instead, I stumbled across the most interesting side table, exquisite in every way. And it fit so perfectly in a spot that had always been missing something I could never quite put my finger on. It madethe room feel complete. Finally whole.” His eyes drop to our joined hands, then return to my face. “In this metaphor, the room is my heart, and you are the side table.”
I stare at him, blinking rapidly as tears fill my eyes, overwhelmed by the confession even though I could have probably seen it coming from a mile away. I can’t say I haven’t noticed Cal’s growing feelings for me. I’ve felt it in every kiss, every touch, every quip and every laugh I pull out of him. I’ve felt it since he first touched me, and I knew what it was, even if I tried to ignore it and pretend I wasn’t feeling it all right back.
I clear my throat, aware that he’s expecting me to respond. “I think maybe I’m starting to understand where your trouble with women comes from if you’re walking around thinking of relationships as shopping for rugs and side tables.”
“You know how seriously I take rugs and side tables, so I doubt that’s my problem.”
“Cal.”
His smile settles at the tone in my voice, his eyes—almost gold in the faint glow of the streetlight coming in through the window—tracking the silent tears that have escaped down my face. “What is it?” he asks softly, brushing an errant piece of hair off my cheek before it gets plastered there by the wetness.
“I don’t know…how to do this. I’ve never…”
Instead of making another joke, he simply waits for me. Patiently. He’s let his guard down enough to be able to sit with the silence instead of filling it with sarcasm, and that makes the tears come faster.
“I’ve told you before how I learned to hide myself away when I was younger.” He nods, acknowledging that he recalls that part of our Truth or Dare game the night we were stuck in the mansion. “I learned how to be someone else, whoever I neededto be to get the approval from men that I never managed to find with my peers by being myself. All of them eventually moved on to more serious relationships with women closer to their own age or stage in life. But I could always fall back on the knowledge that it wasn’tmethey were deciding they didn’t want anymore, it was the character I played for them.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my forearm. “But with you…I’ve been myself from the very beginning. You are the first man in a long, long time who’s gotten to meet the real Annie O’Neill.”
“And it’s been the greatest honor of my life,” he whispers. “God. You’re sovivid, Annie. Bright, dazzling, beautiful. A little unexpected.” Cal’s fingers tenderly trace the shell of my ear. “Being around you is like taking a wrong turn and ending up on Thirty-Fourth Street on Christmas Eve.”
“Is this your way of telling me that you’re sexually aroused by light displays?” I joke through a wet laugh.
“Listen, I have no idea what will do it for me these days, and I blame you for that. It’s your fault I get half hard thinking about meatball subs.” He grins at my continued laughter before becoming earnest again. “Your glow is what I admire most about you. What I…what Ilovemost. So, even if it’s selfish to ask, I have to.”
He brings my palm to his mouth and kisses the center of it, lingeringly, gently. “Stay in Baltimore with me, Annie. Even if you don’t know how to do this, I do. It’s possible it’s the only thing I was ever built for. Please, stay here and let me love you.”
Could it really be as easy as he makes it sound? I would be lying if I said I hadn’t started dreaming of it. Early this morning as I was dusting off the glassware, the faint sound of Cal whistling some classical piece drifted to my ears from the back office, and I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give up on the ideaof a store of my own and just keep working at Virtu. And I could keep creating pieces and selling them online too.
It’s so tempting to say yes, invite this time we’ve shared to stretch out infinitely. To take a chance on this being different than the relationships in my past. On Cal actually, genuinely lovingme, and not just until he comes to his senses, but for something like forever.
But the fear lingers, casting shadows over each of my thoughts and reminding me that if it isn’t different I stand to lose either my heart, my self-regard, or both.
Except surely it must count for something that I fit so well here, in Cal’s life, without having to force anything or pretend. That he’s falling for the person I already am and want to keep being. If I stay in Baltimore with him, I probably wouldn’t have my own storefront for a while, or maybe ever. But that’s a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things, if it means getting everything else I’ve ever wanted.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Yeah?” I’ve never seen him look this elated, and I haven’t even agreed yet.
“Yeah.” The word doesn’t even fully make it past my lips before he kisses me, and the genuine emotion in it is enough to push the lingering fear to the far edges, where it’ll be much easier to ignore. Yet as I lie in Cal’s bed in the early hours of the morning, exhausted but unable to sleep, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he snores quietly beside me, I can’t seem to shake the conviction that my happiness shouldn’t have to come at a cost at all.
Catoctin, Maryland— September 1908
Ora and Johnreconvened at the pond on the edge of the Steubens’ farm the next morning, her with her field notes at the ready and him with his sketchbook and pencils. The gaggle was not there when they arrived, and it was a relief when the geese showed up before long. Ora was aware that the goose’s coloring was likely the only thing that made it unique; observing it would prove not particularly informative. But it made for a good excuse to spend more time with John. He needed watching, she told herself, to make sure he was upholding his end of this bargain. Nothing to do with the fact that she spent the entire night replaying the kiss they’d shared before his villainy was uncovered. No, it was simply his untrustworthiness that made her need to remain close to him. She may even need to stay a few extra days, just to be certain he didn’t somehow double-cross her.
John stared down at his sketchbook as he lightly shaded an area of the goose’s neck. He’d once explained in a letter how he preferred to quickly sketch out the birds in their natural habitatso as not to lose the image, then would redo it later with ink and watercolors—the finished products he’d send her.
Suddenly, he broke the long silence that had stretched between them. “When we return to town, I will send a telegram to Ledford and tell him our deal has come to a premature end and I am returning every cent he’s already given me,” he said.
“But what about theCitizen?” Ora asked, unable to hide her shock. “You said—”
