Release: Symbols of Love, page 23
"Oh, shit. That's the worst.” He groans. “Well, take it from a man who wasted more years than I care to think about away from the woman I knew was meant for me.” He sighs loudly, as if the memory still makes him hurt. “Go after her." He says solemnly.
I don't say anything, but let what he said roll around in my head. I would if I knew how. She’s clearly as drawn to me as I am to her. She was obviously miserable tonight. But she’s put obstacles in our path at every turn. She’s lied, pretended, evaded. I should want nothing to do with her. But I’ve seen beneath that veneer. I know the woman she was in Ghana, after that night on the beach, is who she really is. For some reason she doesn’t see herself that way anymore. I want to know why.
Dammit!
I feel like I was losing my fucking mind. I’ve always been so focused on my business, my legacy, my role in the family – there hadn’t been room for anything else. But now, Lilly has come and pushed all that aside and she is all I can think of.
If I wasn’t a rational person, I would honestly think she was a witch who had put a curse on me. I know it isn’t possible, but I swear to God, that’s exactly what it feels like. And now she’s here. We have the motherfucking miracle of second chances.
This is fate showing off. Telling me, “Don’t believe in me, huh? Well, let me show you what I can do.”
Dean bursts our laughing. “Damn, you’re talking fate?” I didn’t even realize I’d been speaking out loud.
“I don’t think there’s anything funny about this situation,” I say indignantly. His laugh deepens and I just stare at him.
“I’m asking for help. You and Milly are so in sync you practically breathe in time to each other. Has it always been that way?”
Dean, laughs at me. He also gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"Man, Milly was married. In the middle of a divorce, but still married. It wouldn’t have mattered if I'd found her happily married, I would have found a way to get her to leave him.”
I give a sideways, incredulous look. "Easy to say when you didn't have to."
"It's not easy to say. I respect the institution of marriage. But I would have done anything to win her back. We’d never stopped loving each other." He says with a voice full of nostalgia.
"Well, I didn't get to that point with her and now it's probably too late." I say, loathing my self pity.
"Maybe. But, you don’t have the kinds of hurdles I did. You’ve got to get over your pride and be honest with her. Lay your shit bare. There’s not room for that in relationships. Pretending means there’s a lack of trust. Your partner should be your home. The place you feel good in your skin. If it’s not, then move on. But if it is, if she makes you think about your life differently, makes you want more, makes you feel like more…then go after it. "
I groan and he pats my shoulder again. “If you even think she might be the one, it'll be worth it, even if it doesn't work out."
I shove his hand off in disgust. I shake my head as continue walking. I shoot him a sideways glance. "That's terrible advice. How the fuck are you so successful?”
He laughs, loud and long, throwing his head back as he stopped to grab his knees. He’s laughing is ass off at me.
“What the fuck’s so funny?” I yell at him and he looks up at me.
"You are. You’re an idiot. No wonder you’re in this mess.” He straightens at the end of that string of insults and starts walking again. “Business and love aren't the same.” He shakes his head, as if he’s having a great memory. “For love," he pauses dramatically, searching the sky as if it holds the words he needs "For the love of that woman who's sleeping in my bed right now? Who I'm going to ask to marry tomorrow night? I'd risk everything. There isn't anything I wouldn't do." I am thunderstruck by envy.
I stuff my hands in my pockets, shielding them from the cold. It was a stupid idea to walk home in this cold.
I blow out puffs of air as I walk. The cold air sobering me, the quiet making it really easy to think. And I tell Dean, something I probably wouldn’t have if I’d not been half out of my mind with frustration.
"I've never been able to say that about anyone. But there’s something between us. This woman…even now when things are messed up, she’s who I want to talk to. Who I want to be with this. I've never felt this way before. I gesture to the acres of land that stretch around us, " All of this is mine. But no one ever asked me if I wanted it. I've spent my whole life knowing what my duty is. And that's fine. I love this land, I love my family. I was born first, and it's a privilege. But fuck, to just have one thing that I choose for myself. For no other reason than it's what I want, that feels like the stuff of folk lore. I want that so badly. I want her."
Who am I? I don’t recognize the man who’d say these things.
Dean doesn't say anything, and when I look at him, I find him walking with his head thrown back, as if the stars are guiding his steps. Then, he regards me thoughtfully. A big smile on his face.
"You should go after her, man. That's not something that you should walk away from. Especially if you've lived more than thirty years and haven't ever felt like this. If she feels the same way man, grab hold and don't let go. But, first you got to get it together. That woman you’re here with is acting like she expects you to propose any minute. Get rid of her.”
And then he turns his head back up the sky. We walk the rest of the way in silence.
This man, known for his ruthlessness on behalf of his clients is talking like he's a member of the Shakespeare in Love cast.
I roll my eyes, pull my coat tighter and replay our conversation. Something more than her father's disappearance has kept her from home. She's hiding something. Running from something, but I can see it in her eyes. She wants to let it go. She wants to live her life. She just has to know it's possible. She needs me to show her. And after the wedding, I will.
27
Lilly
"May I have this dance?" I look at the hand my father's holding out to me and marvel that he's even here at all. I put my hand in his and let him pull me out of my seat. I glance at Aiden, who’s already passed out in a drunken stupor. I forgot what a lightweight he is. He’s going to be sorry when he has to get up at five in the morning to make his train back to Cardiff.
We walk out onto the crowded dance floor hand in hand. The entire ballroom is awash in lights tinged with blush, gold, and white. A gigantic monogram of an intertwined C and an L is projected onto the dance floor. Huge bouquets bursting with hyacinth, pink freesia and rhododendron are on every table and hung from crystal baskets that swing from the ceiling of the enormous tent that’s been set up in the south garden of the estate. The entire wedding looked like something from a fairytale. Cara and Louis looked the part of the fairy tale princess and her dashing prince.
Stevie Wonder's, Isn't She Lovely, just started playing and we sway in silence for a few minutes. I savor my father's embrace. I never thought I'd know it again. He rests his head on top of mine and I tighten my arm around his waist.
I look across the room at the man who's been staring at me all night and sigh heavily. His glass, a small tumbler full of amber liquid dangles loosely from his fingers. He brings it to his full mouth and takes a sip, never taking his eyes off of me. His glare is full of fire and ice and I feel the prickle of it all over me. He doesn't seem to care who sees. Camille is sitting next to him, talking and gesturing wildly. She’s completely oblivious to his inattention. Or maybe she doesn't care as long he's sitting next to her.
"I'm sorry Lilly," My father whispers into my hair. His hand that's been resting in the small of my back come up to my shoulder.
"So, sorry I wasn't there for you,” he says. Tears blur my vision and my chest constricts at his words. I'm unable to respond. My voice is trapped in the sphere of emotion that's bloomed inside of me.
"This used to be our song, Lil," he continues, his voice soft and lilting. "You and I danced to this from the day you were born until you were old enough to dance on my feet. Then you only wanted to dance with me to practice for your first prom.” He laughs softly in my ear. “When we danced was the only time you’d let me hold you. Otherwise, you wanted to do everything yourself. So fiercely independent, Lilly. That pendant we gave you, that looked like a butterfly in flight, it's how we thought of you. Free, vibrant and so singularly unique." He chuckles, but I can't join him. My heart is being battered by the memories of my life before he left us. When I was safe and happy and felt like myself.
"You, my darling child, are the light of my life. The pulse of this family, and without you, we're a shell of our former selves. Tell me what happened while I was gone, Lilly. What stole you away from us?" he whispers, his voice coaxing.
"Daddy, please," is all I can manage.
"God, how I hate myself for failing you. For being gone and allowing someone to steal away your worry-free and loving heart. I'm so sorry. But I'm here now, my darling, and I can see that something is very wrong." He’s whispering but his anguish is loud and clear.
"It's nothing. I'm just really tired, Daddy," I tell a small truth.
"You're angry Lilly. So angry you burn with it. It radiates from you. Let it go," he murmurs softly.
I nod and nestle my head into his shoulder.
"Yes, Daddy. I'm so angry. I hate him," I say, the words sliding smoothly from my throat like only the truth can.
"I know, baby," he says soothingly.
"People who say hate and love are opposite sides of the same coin have never truly hated anyone. Because I never loved him. But I hate him so much," I say to him as if in a trance. The words I've only let live in my head come spilling out.
"Hate is an insatiable beast. It feeds on anything it can, Lilly. You've got to expel it before it starts to feed on you. Whatever it is, you've got to get it out and then move on. The first step is admitting that nothing happens that you don't let happen to you. That whatever happened, you have some responsibility in it."
I stop moving so abruptly that he steps on my toe.
"What are you saying? How can you say that?" I pull back and look into his eyes. His gaze is identical to mine even down to the mirrored pain I see looking back at me.
'Forgive, Lilly," he says. My breath seizes in my lungs. If he had put his knee into my gut I couldn't have felt more wounded.
His eyes widen in alarm at what he must see on my face.
"How can you say that?" I step away from him, but in the crush of bodies, I can't create any real distance.
"Lilly, listen to me." He steps toward me, putting his arms around me, but I pull myself free.
"No, you don't know," I say to him. The loud music muffles my voice, the dancers around us celebrate oblivious to the mortal wound my father has just inflicted.
"Then tell me so you start letting some of it go," he says, his eyes imploring me.
"I can't, Daddy," I say, shaking my head. My eyes tear across the tent and see that no one is paying attention to us. My mother's talking to my sister's nephew, Henry. Addie is dancing with Simon's brother laughing hysterically at something he's saying. Milly and Dean are lost in their world, eyes closed as they sway in each other's arms.
Like they always do, my family is oblivious to the fact that I'm dying, that my heart is breaking. Only my father sees it and before he even knows what's wrong, he tells me to forgive.
I push my way through the crowd, knowing that my father won't come after me. No one will. And I hate them for it.
The snow swirls around me in a tempest. It whips at me without mercy. I curse my idiocy. Why did even come to this wedding? Cara would have been happy with a note and a present. She didn't need me here. I did it to appease my family and as usual, they looked right through me, only seeing what they wanted to see. What they see is an image I've constructed. Lies have my instrument, my entire life, the music I created with it. Nothing they saw was ever true.
Without any warning my stomach heaves. I gag and it heaves again, empty save for the champagne I sipped to toast Cara and Louis tonight. But it's like my body has reached its limit of hurt, disappointment, and is determined to get rid of it. I dry heave until my entire abdomen aches. Nothing comes up, but before I even realize it, my heaves have turned to sobs and instead of bile, my body releases tears. I can't stop them, my wretched gut too weak to do anything but surrender.
I've been fighting this deluge for years, not letting myself think about the pain unless I'm alone and safe. I can't stand the tidal wave of pain that washes over me. A crater of hurt remains whenever I let my mind go back to that night. I fall to my knees under the weight of it.
Shivers wrack me. I'm too cold to continue walking. Too gutted to go back, I look around me, knowing I need to escape the snow and see the structure Freya called The Temple of the Four Winds to my left. I slowly make my way toward the shelter it promises. My chin is tucked into the wind to protect my face from the freezing wind and the stinging snow it carries. I wrap my arms around myself, grateful for the light cashmere sweater I'd thrown over my shoulders to hide the exposed skin my dress reveals.
I've just reached the stairs when I hear someone call my name and I stop in my tracks.
It’s Harry. I knew he would come. His voice grows closer and I stop to let him catch up to me.
"Lilly, what are you doing? You'll freeze to death," he says just as a warm coat, five sizes too big drapes across my shoulders. The relief it gives is immediate and its only then that I realize just how cold I am. Pins and needles erupt all over me.
"Come on, let's go to the Four Winds. The heat’s on all night." He wraps an arm around and steers me toward shelter.
We walk up the stairs of the stone structure that looks more like a house than a temple. Only the two Borghese gladiators that stand sentinel at the top of the stairs harken back to the days before it had doors, double glazed windows, and indoor heating and cooling. I look up at them as we pass and wonder what their eyes have seen and what stories they’d tell if they could. I wonder what kind of story they'll bear witness to tonight.
Harry pushes open one of the white paned windowed doors and we step inside the dark room. It smells just as it looks—old and grand. Harry uncurls himself from me and walks to the other side of the room. With the flip of a switch, the temple is bathed in light. The floor is an intricate diamond pattern, inlayed with opal and shell colored tiles. The walls are wainscoted in marble shot through with a smoky gray. The walls are white stucco painted with gold filigree in the same pattern as the dinner plates from tonight’s reception.
"I can't believe this is real, it's so beautiful,” I whisper, completely enthralled.
"My sentiments exactly," Harry murmurs softly, his voice gentle and full of adoration.
I memorize that look, let it imprint itself on my heart because I know that once he knows the truth, I'll never see it again.
"Tell me, Lilly. I'm listening," he says, leaning back, away from me and letting his shoulders rest on the wall. But then he reaches out to grasp my hand, linking our fingers while his thumb sweeps gently on the soft flesh right under my thumb.
He's giving me space and yet letting me know that he isn't going anywhere.
I knew that it would come to this. That he would ask me for everything and that I would eventually give it to him. I’m almost weak with relief. I’m tired of running from him. I just hope I can bear to see the admiration his expression holds right now, disappear.
When he looks at me, I see the old Lilly reflected in his eyes. The version of myself that danced no matter what music was playing, laughed no matter how lame the joke, and who knew that she was amazing. She's reaching out to me, begging me to set her free, to let her live.
I try to pull my hand free of his grasp, but feel a rush of relief when he doesn't let me. I want to be embraced, but I also want my self-loathing to be validated.
"Lilly. I won't judge, I won't leave. I can’t leave,” he says earnestly.
I gaze at him, and I think he means it. I believe him.
"You don't have to hide. Tell me. Please, who hurt you?” He's begging. His words, his desperation to know me break through the sludge clogging my voice, like the sun's rays would a slimy swamp.
But, do I dare? Can I risk it? He has no clue what he’s asking. I’m not just afraid of needing someone. I’m afraid of the people I love seeing me differently after I tell them. I know it’s crazy, but it’s true. Who wants to put that image of themselves in their parent’s minds? It would destroy them, break their hearts. And I’m too afraid to say those words aloud. But I can trust him. He’s seen me at my worst and he still thinks the good outweighs the bad. He’s been present for some of the most transformative moments of my life. That night on the beach being just one of many.
So, I look into his eyes. The gentle acceptance I see in them gives me courage. I'm tired of carrying the facade by myself and here's someone who actually wants to know my truth. A person I actually want to share it with. I know he won't tell me to forgive him. I know he won’t ask me why I didn’t tell anyone sooner. Why I didn’t have any bruises from the attack.
Meeting Harry wasn't accidental. The feelings between us are more than just a connection. The rigor of it scares. But its refusal to let distance, difficulty, and denial stop it also give me courage.
I close my eyes and I’m back at the cliff I’ve created in my mind. The one whose rocky ledge I've been standing at since I met Harry. I know that if I let myself fall, I’ll either crash and burn. Alone.
Or, I could have everything I’ve ever wanted but never dared to hope for.
So, I let my foot dangle over the edge and then, I take a step. I speak the words I’ve only allowed to pass my lips once before. I let the entire foundation of my world slip away.
28
Harry
"Five years ago, I was raped. In my bedroom. By a man who had been my teacher and mentor. My mother, my sisters, my brother in law, and my neighbor were downstairs, I could hear them laughing, talking--"
