Page 105 of Late Harvest

He nodded.

“And let’s see…” She tapped her chin. “You entered into what you thought would be an easy, fun, low-stakes marriage of convenience. Only, now you’ve gone and…what? Fallen in love with Arabella Remington?”

Bash closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. I told her I loved her last night.”

A wide smile danced across Honor’s face, her dimple popping. “And did she return the sentiment?”

“She did.”

“Outstanding! Another Wheatley actor in love with a doctor. Excellent combo! Five out of five stars. Highly recommend.” She paused her gleeful reaction, cocking her head. “Sorry. I seem to be the only one kicking up her proverbial heels in celebration. What’s wrong?”

Bash chuckled. “Fear thee not. I’m kicking up my inner heels too.” He fixed his attention on a square of refracted sunshine on the rustic, distressed hardwood floor.

“Then I’m not clear on the problem here, brother.”

“I’m just—I’m terrified that she’s going to hurt me. Or, worse, that I’m going to hurt her. Inadvertently of course, but hurt her nonetheless. I’ve never done this before, Honor. And she’s—” He paused, searching for the words. “She’s been badly broken. It’s like she’s carefully put herself back together, but I can see the fracture lines. And I’m terrified I’m going to fuck this up somehow. The idea of that wrecks me. I—I’m battling this bizarre blend of paralysis and wanting to rush everything with her because I can’t wait to do all the things with her for the rest of my life.” He released a massive exhale and laced his fingers on the top of his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, BashBash,” his sister sighed, watching him with sympathetic eyes the exact color and shape of his. “Welcome to true love. Where the only thing more frightening than loving someone is the idea of not loving them. Where you realize you’ve been given something so special, so rare, and now you have to protect it. Nurture it. Because anything else is no longer acceptable. Life without them…isn’t even a choice.”

Bash was silent for long moments. “Damn,” he eventually breathed out. “That’s it exactly. It’s like…I have been given this precious gift. And I have no idea if I’m good enough. If I deserve it.”

Honor stood and shifted his now-burped and sleeping nephew into a wicker Moses basket lined with soft cotton batting. Then she settled in on the opposite end of the couch, tucking her legs under her body, and faced him. “You love her that much?”

“I do,” he whispered.

She lifted one shoulder. “Then you have to trust enough in yourself and in her to let that love grow into what it’s meant to be. It’s the biggest leap of faith you’ll ever take. But there’s nothing like the feeling of sticking that landing.” She grinned at him.

He returned the smile, clarity and ensuing relief at her words coursing through him. “We’re not gymnasts, sister.”

Honor shrugged. “I played one once.”

“You did indeed. And quite well.”

They shared the single-dimpled smiles entertainment reporters loved to say was as much Jud Wheatley’s legacy to his grandchildren as the acting gene.

“I’m proud of you for going after Paradise, Bash. You’re going to give the performance of a lifetime. And I can’t wait to see it. World’s proudest sister.”

He dropped his head, his heart filling with emotion. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, frowning. “What if I fuck up?”

“The role?”

“No. Well, yes, that too. But…loving Arabella?”

Honor laughed softly. “We all fuck up in our relationships, Bash. Sometimes, we even cause pain to the person we love most in the world. We’re human and fallible. It’s inevitable. As much as it feels like it some days, we don’t live in fantasy. We live in a world of human emotion and human error. Even in the best of relationships, sometimes a hurt bomb gets detonated.”

“Then what do you do?”

“You own it. You apologize. Then you do better. You cradle that love in your heart like the precious gift it is, and you make sure Arabella Remington knows and sees it—in your words and your actions.”

“I can do that.” Bash nodded then smirked. “When did you get so damn wise?”

“When I was lucky enough to rediscover what loving, and being loved by, Brinder Desai feels like.”

“I think this goes down as our deepest conversation ever,” he mused with a wink.

“I know! Too much. Too much! Subject change?”

“Sure…”