How to Spot a Fake, page 23
They each had to say their piece. Whatever he’d say, she was ready to counter. She spent much of the past few days angry, confused, and alone. From the moment she’d met him, she’d understood. He could change my life if I let him.
“You’ve always been enough.” He turned away and paced, his gaze roaming the floor and the room, never her face. “You’re more than enough. You’ve lived the very definition of a charmed life, and you know what? You deserve every bit of your good fortune. You should have it all.”
“You deserve good fortune.”
“No. I’ve never made any serious contribution and, to be honest, I’ll doubt I’ll get the chance to do something as significant as you can. My future isn’t about breaking new ground. But yours is. You could sit around all day, and no one would care or notice. Yet, you’re here pushing yourself for a dream. I wish I had half that drive.”
“You do. I know you do.” She drew back her shoulders and stood taller. “When I first showed you the collection, I studied your eyes. Your keen gaze took in every box, each receipt, the chaos under foot when you walked into the house, and you didn’t run. You have the ambition. You are the only partner I want in the endeavor.”
He stopped pacing, his face in profile.
The hours of work he devoted to her cause was secondary. Has he ever been told he’s amazing? Leaving the file on the floor, she stood and approached him. He shut his gaze as she neared, emboldening her.
She wasn’t backing down now. “You’re brilliant. I hope one day you pursue your art in addition to a full schedule of restoration projects. More than future dreams, I hope you stay here—with me—now. I can’t imagine pursuing this untested big dream without you. I promise I’ll try, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t operate the museum without you. You’re more than enough on your own. Just you.” She brushed her hand against the stubble on his cheek.
With his eyes shut tight, he leaned into her touch. Turning his head, he kissed her open palm.
She held her breath, willing herself not to react.
The loud clearing of a throat snapped through the tension.
She jerked away her hand, blinking several times. When her vision cleared, she spotted her best friend. Love withdrew and slowed her breathing. Missy hadn’t walked in on anything and yet Love’s cheeks burned.
“I’m on a different path. My hard work will have to speak for me. I’m okay with that. I wish you the best of luck,” he said.
She frowned, furrowing her brow and piecing together what had and hadn’t been said. His gray eyes were unreadable. With a nod, he turned his back.
Love pressed a shaky hand to her mouth and the unspoken protest forming on her lips. He couldn’t leave like this.
Following Missy, he exited the room.
The front door opened and shut.
The closing door reverberated deep in Love’s soul. His kiss wasn’t a farewell. She refused to accept it as such. For him, for herself, and for their future, she’d fight.
~ * ~
Was showing up on her property a huge mistake? Was John helping her or hurting them both? Why couldn’t he believe their goodbye was final?
He rubbed his pounding temples and stared across the lawn. The scent of an impending storm mixed with wood smoke curling in the air. Had he done enough for her to succeed? Never before had he been someone’s rock. Since the beginning of time, he’d been on his own.
Until, he’d been caught. Love had set a trap neither had seen. And the result was that he wouldn’t trade his bindings for freedom. While his heart would remain tethered to her and her dreams forever, he couldn’t stay.
With everything in him, he hoped she got her museum. She deserved the win. But he couldn’t be involved. If he remained, he’d be a walking symbol of the rift with her family. She deserved better and shouldn’t have any complication toward rebuilding the connection she longed for and deserved.
He glanced over his shoulder at the closed front doors. A pair of fresh pine wreaths wrapped with flourishing red plaid bows hung on hooks, mirroring each other. The scent wafting off the decorations warmed him from inside out.
He massaged the ache below his heart. During the drive to the lodge, she had promised to celebrate the season in honor of her grandmother. Love kept her word. She had found some peace and would hopefully experience joy over the holidays.
With his chin to his chest, he strode off the porch into the chilly wind. From the main house, he trekked along the neat, cleared cobblestone path to the guest quarters. He belonged in neither location. Alone with his regrets, he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings and collided with a solid object. With a jump, he jerked his gaze to meet Henry’s.
“All done?” Henry stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight side-to-side.
“Yep.” John cleared his throat, forcing down the words and accusations choking him. Nothing good could come from a confrontation now that he knew he was on his own. “Give me a second to pack, and you can escort me off property.”
“Come on, John. Don’t be like that. I was doing my job.” Henry kicked at a rogue piece of ice on the path. “I’m sorry, for everything.”
John held up one hand. “I know. I don’t want to keep rehashing what happened and playing the blame game. She can plead her case tomorrow. I hope she saves herself. I’m out.” He continued past Henry, brushing against his shoulder.
His friend shot out his arm, blocking the path like a railroad crossing gate. “You belong here. You are more worthy of being here than anyone else, except Miss Pettigrew. I wanted you safe. You’re my brother.”
“Except, I’m not, right?” John retreated and hiked up his chin. “I’m your family, but what does that mean? You push me away. You don’t like my honesty. We share a past but maybe that’s it.”
With his brows drawn together, Henry met John’s gaze. After a few seconds pause, Henry turned his face to the ground.
“Looking for an escape.” With a scoff, John broadened his stance. The other man wasn’t getting past him.
“No.” Henry puffed out his chest.
Slowly, John blew out a sigh. “Then that’s a first.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Honesty.” John shrugged. Any more movement would unleash the years of emotions he’d shoved deep inside.
“I’ve always been real.”
“Seriously? Every time I’ve ever tried to discuss anything, you push me back. You’ve always been there until things get heated. Then.” John snapped his fingers. “Poof, you’re gone.”
Henry dragged a hand through his hair. “That’s your opinion? I can’t handle honesty?”
More than a hypothesis, the belief was an unshakeable conviction. Over the years, he’d tested and proven his theory countless times. John held up his hands in surrender.
“I was protecting you. Watching your back.”
With his arms at his sides, John exhaled. “In your way, yes. I needed different help. I still do.”
“What do you need?”
At the incredulous tone, John flinched. He never wanted a confrontation with his best friend but too much happened to move forward. Pretending like nothing happened wasn’t John’s style. “I need support. I need to share my feelings and ideas without being shut down. You’re such a black and white person. You hate talking unless you reach an actionable goal. Sometimes I need to talk and jumpstart problem solving. You shut me down like when we were kids.” He shook his head. “You’re scared if we spend more than a few minutes talking, I’ll start crying again.”
For an unflinching moment, Henry held his gaze, pupils dilated and nostrils flared.
When his jaw twitched, John opened his mouth to smooth over the awkward moment.
“I do.” Henry hunched his shoulders. “You’re right. I’m guilty of shutting you down. I’m sorry, man. Ever since that day, I cut you off. I couldn’t handle you getting emotional those years ago. It wasn’t about you. You have always been the bravest person I know. Fearless. Gutsy. When you cried in Daley Plaza that day, I broke, snapping in two. I couldn’t face my pain. My parents didn’t want me, and every promise I made you was a lie.”
John nodded, sniffed, and stared past Henry. No matter how hard he tried to block that day from his mind, John never succeeded in erasing his memories. Shame, frustration, and anger shaded his recollection with burning tears and a scratchy throat. As a scared kid, he had offered sympathy for a heartbroken friend and ended in a crumpled heap after said friend punched him in the gut to stop his tears.
When he turned to Henry now, John released a strangled breath and extended a hand.
Henry shook his hand, pumping the arm in an exaggerated gesture and patting his shoulder.
John slipped his hand free and glanced over his shoulder at the latest instance of what might have been. Under an overcast sky, the house looked dreary and sad. With a few Christmas decorations and string lights, Love could replicate some of the holiday magic they’d experienced downtown.
Shutting his eyes, he breathed in and imagined a hint of her vanilla perfume. She had a full house, at least temporarily. He wished her luck and time to enjoy the season. Her labors shouldn’t be disregarded because he got mixed up in her life.
“Thank you,” John murmured.
With an expression of gratitude, he freed himself, releasing the tension building inside. Moving on was inevitable and inescapable. At least one good thing came out of the entire emotional mess. He’d been honest with Henry from the first time ever but not completely.
Henry wrapped one arm around John’s shoulders.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, John broke from the hold. To rebuild trust, he owed his friend the full disclosure of his changed circumstances.
Henry frowned. “What’s wrong? Something else you have to say?”
“I’m leaving.”
Henry ran a hand through his hair. “I’m trying. Come on, cut me some slack.”
“No, I don’t mean…” John was exhausted from the conversation. Pleading with his friend had drained him of all energy. He didn’t want to start another fight. “I’m moving away.”
“What? Just like that? You’re leaving?”
“Rick called and offered me a position on the east coast. It’s a major project with a museum. I’d be the project manager and a restorer.”
“Wow.” His friend’s eyes widened. “Congrats. This is a done deal?”
“Pretty much, I told him I’d let him know in a few days.”
“But nothing is keeping you here?”
Nothing I can have. No matter what happened at her meeting, John cared too much to stay and ruin her life. If he hung around, he’d only complicate her family issues. They both deserved better. “I can’t turn down this opportunity. I’d be foolish to stay.”
“Congrats on the job offer. I’ll miss you, but I’m proud of you. You deserve every good thing coming your way,” Henry said.
John studied the path and crunched salt under his heel. Heat crept up his neck, and he readjusted his blue scarf. The acknowledgement warmed him more than he dared hope. Relaying the information made the decision more final, but he was resolved.
He had to move. “Thank you.”
“You better get back to the city. Sounds like you have a call to make and packing to start.”
John met Henry’s gaze. From his cheek-to-cheek grin and pulled back shoulders, John read pride radiating off his companion. Following Henry, they continued on their way across the grounds.
John hoped Love’s words were true. She should absolutely stay and fight. More than anything, he wanted her to win. In the best interest of everyone involved, and to avoid burning any bridges, they had to part ways now. No matter how the vice tightened around his heart.
Chapter Nineteen
By early afternoon, Love caved. Her resistance to Missy’s enthusiasm for decorated buckled under unceasing assault of Christmas joy. The protests that Grandmother would understand fell flat. Of course she wouldn’t.
Grandmother started the local holiday parade of homes decades earlier to raise funds for charity. In the past few years, she hadn’t opened her home to the public but had done no less than create a picture-perfect Christmas starting mid-November until Epiphany.
The longer Love walked around the house, surveying the aftermath of Kirk’s pillage, the emptier she felt. She’d broken Grandmother’s bargain.
Love remained in the house, and she owed herself a festive holiday. Otherwise, she encouraged her beloved matriarch to start a seasonal haunting.
On her hands and knees in the attic, she chuckled.
Missy’s head popped up between stacks of dusty cardboard boxes. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s good to hear you laugh. I’m glad we’re doing this. You need some festive cheer.”
Love leaned back on her heels. “I definitely have the space for these decorations.”
She curled her upper lip. With the main rooms unfurnished, she might keep the Christmas decorations in her house year-round to distract from the empty spaces. If only my heart could be easily filled.
Missy nodded and glanced at her watch. “Why don’t you take a box downstairs? I’ll finish here. We’re organized now. Bringing everything out should be a simple task.”
Love frowned. Was Missy ignoring the hint of attitude in Love’s sarcastic tone? Or was she focused on something else? Her friend’s statement sounded rehearsed. Getting to her feet, Love kicked a box and dust swirled in the air. She sneezed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.
“Gesundheit.”
“Thanks.” Love bent and snatched the nearest box.
No matter Missy’s real or perceived motives, Love was glad for a break from her allergy trigger. Her nose had twitched as she had carried the box down the steps. With distance, the tickle in her sinuses abated. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she breathed without a hitch.
The doorbell chimed.
The sound echoed in the cavernous hall with only the console tables to dull the ring.
She continued down the stairs and crossed to the door. Setting the box to one side, she dusted her hands on her jeans and smoothed her hair into its ponytail. When she grabbed the doorknob, she couldn’t stop the rush of adrenaline. John was the only visitor she had in recent months. He’d come back? Already? She was delighted.
Opening the door, she curled her toes and nibbled her bottom lip. “I didn’t expec—”
She stopped and stumbled backward.
“Good afternoon, Lovelyn.” Charles clasped his hands behind his back, one corner of his mouth hitching up in a smile.
Standing on the other side of the door, he didn’t step forward.
The flutters in her stomach picked up speed until the swirling became as strong as the wind outside. “What are you doing here?”
His grin faltered, and he nodded. “I brought your Christmas tree.” He gestured behind him, waving his arm indicating a general direction.
A bright red pick-up truck idled in the center of the drive. A pyramid of green was stacked in the bed.
Just like Grandmother always arranged. Love swiped at her eyes and itchy nose. Her father wasn’t who she wanted to see, not now or anytime in the foreseeable future. As she dragged her gaze from the truck back to her unexpected visitor, she understood the thin olive branch he held. Friday, he’d been irate. Two days later, he was calm and contrite.
She rubbed her hand together. “It’s cold. Come inside.”
He nodded and whistled over his shoulder to the truck’s driver.
The engine cut out. Two men exited either side of the cab and hoisted the top tree off the stack. Heaving the evergreen onto their shoulders, they carried the pine to the steps.
Love moved aside to let Charles cross the threshold.
Fresh-cut pine wafted in the air. She breathed deep the smell of anticipation, happiness, and Christmas surprises wrapped into one. Despite her mixed feelings for her company, she curled her lips upward into the closest approximation of joyous surprise she could manage.
The men carried the tree up the steps. “Where do you want the tree, miss?” The man in front asked.
“I-I… Well, I only… The thing is…”
“Follow me,” Missy called, strolling down the stairs and across the hall with a tree stand dangling from one hand.
No wonder she’d been checking the time. Love wasn’t a fan of a set-up in movies or real life. The situation—caught between her professional and personal allegiances—ripped Missy in half. Love couldn’t blame her friend for smoothing over the awkward arrangement.
The men entered and strode past, joining Missy in the front parlor.
Love shut the front door and intertwined her hands. Her father stared at the ground making no move to end the awkward encounter. Silence enveloped them.
She plastered on a disingenuous smile, and her cheeks twitched. “Thanks for bringing me a Christmas tree.”
“Of course. I wanted to check in. Kirk tells me everything is safely stored downtown.”
She lifted her chin. “Are you here to gloat? Couldn’t that wait until tomorrow?”
He flinched and turned his cheek. “You’re upset, and so am I. I came here today on a goodwill venture.”
Had Missy scheduled more than a delivery? With Grandmother’s passing, Love needed a mediator between herself and her family. What sort of family needed a third-party’s involvement to drop off a Christmas tree? The only one I have.
She had to do better. “Thank you for bringing me the tree. I’ve gotten a late start on the holidays this year. Grandmother wouldn’t recognize her barren house.”
His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened.
She caught her lip. Her careless turn of phrase hit its target with deadly accuracy. “I didn’t mean—”
“We both have a lot to process. I wanted to come today to discuss your role within the foundation.”
She clasped her hands behind her back, interlacing her icy fingers. “I understood I would be a figurehead.”
“Wouldn’t you like to get back to your studies? After one semester of an advanced degree, you quit to take on this project. Now you can get back to your life.”
