Chapter 19
nineteen
JORDAN
I can’t believe that just happened.
As I pace the hotel room—a surprisingly expansive suite with a separate living area, bedroom, and bathroom—I loosen my tie and toss it over the back of the ruby-colored couch next to my suit jacket. My shoes trample the delicate trail of red rose petals strewn from the front door to the closed bedroom door, a barrier that feels all too solid right now. The sound of running water filters through the air, and I can’t tell if Marilee is washing away the lingering touch of that demon, or simply changing into something more comfortable. I’d understand either way.
I’m just sorry I didn’t hit him harder.
Donny ruined what could have been one of the sweetest nights of my life, intruding upon our moment like a shadow that wouldn’t dissipate. This place—this beautiful, romantic haven clearly orchestrated by someone with a penchant for love—deserves better than the chaos he introduced. Candles cast muted light against the elegantly papered walls, while a gentle fire dances in the hearth, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill in my heart. Raindrops patter rhythmically against the patio, where the French doors stand invitingly open, gauzy curtains swaying with the breath of the night.
We should be sharing laughter after indulging in a feast of steak and potatoes, curled up on this couch, lost in a show, the world melting away. Maybe we’d explore the thrill of a kiss, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms.
Instead, Marilee is spent from crying, and my insides still roil with the desire to march back down those stairs and take another swing at Donny.
After what feels like an eternity of pacing, I sink onto the couch, resting my hands on my knees, staring into the fire’s flickering embrace as I wait for her to emerge. I just wish I knew what she needs from me, because I’ve never felt more helpless.
Finally, the bedroom door creaks open, and she steps out. My breath catches. Her face is cleansed of makeup, her hair cascading in soft, loose waves, pins discarded. She’s wearing my flannel pants and a T-shirt that swallows her smaller frame whole, a sight that twists my heart and elicits a primal, possessive urge to claim her as mine.
“Hey,” I manage to choke out, my voice rough. “I ordered room service. They’ll bring it up with your purse. Are you sure you don’t want me to grab your suitcase from your car?”
“No, thanks.” Her voice is flat, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman I know. She crosses the room and pushes the gauzy curtain aside, gazing out at the fog creeping in with the rain. It settles over the foothills, softening the vineyard’s familiar outlines, wrapping everything in a shroud of secrecy and romance. It feels like a poignant embrace, a lullaby inviting us into a quieter, more contemplative space.
And yet, I don’t know if we’ll get there. I don’t know if we can. The shadows feel close by, waiting to snatch away the light.
I watch Marilee, admiring the elegant curve of her silhouette and the tendrils of hair dancing around her waist, and an ache of longing cracks deep within me. When she turns back, her expression is a mixture of sorrow and vulnerability. It’s heartbreaking, and all I want is to pull her close and shield her from pain.
“What is it, Lee?”
“I’m just…” Her voice quivers, and my heart sinks. “I’m so sorry. About Donny.”
“You never have to apologize for that creep. Ever.”
She exhales slowly, glancing upward as if seeking solace from the ceiling. “But I do, because I picked him. Chose to marry him.”
“That may be true, but tonight, you stood up to him. I was so proud of you.”
“Really?” Her hands clasp at the hem of her shirt.
“Of course. And I’m not gonna lie…I’ve wanted to knock him down since the first time I met him.” I pat the couch beside me. After a moment of hesitation, she plops down facing me, one leg folded on the couch. Our knees touch.
“The day he hit you with a football?”
“Yep.”
“I saw it happen. The way he treated you, like you were beneath him—like everyone was beneath him, unless they were useful to him. But I chose to ignore it. Made excuses for him.”
I take a breath, my heart pounding as I finally ask the question that’s haunted me for years. “I’m not blaming you one bit when I say this, but what did you see in him, Lee?”
“Ah, the million-dollar question.” She tilts her mouth up on one side. “At first, he was…sweet. We had yearbook together my freshman year. He took it his senior year as an easy A, and he needed as many as he could get since he played football and had to keep up his GPA.” Somewhere outside, there’s a ringing like wind chimes sighing. “Back then, I was super insecure. I always knew I was flighty, kind of a mess. Someone who didn’t use her brain enough.”
The pain in her voice stabs me. “Why did you think that? Because for the record, I think you’re amazing—smart, talented, and much more than you give yourself credit for.”
A faint smile flickers on her lips, like a sunrise breaking through the clouds. “You always know how to boost my ego.”
“That’s my specialty.” I wink, trying to lighten the moment, but the heaviness still lingers between us.
Marilee chuckles softly, then her fingers drift to the fabric of her pants, tracing a zigzag pattern as if trying to ground herself. “I remember when I was in junior high, helping my dad wash his sports car. I was so excited, because he never trusted anyone with his baby. But then I sprayed the hose all over the car with the top down.”
“Uh oh.”
“Yeah. My dad rushed out, bucket in hand, and yelled at me. He said I had no sense in my brain and that he couldn’t trust me with anything important again.”
“Geez, Lee. That’s terrible.” Mr. Moffitt was a tough man—someone who loved his work and loved his wife but was really hard on his kids—but I had no idea his words had left such scars on Marilee. “Surely he apologized later.”
“Did you ever know my dad to apologize for anything?”
“Good point.”
She shifts, her tone growing contemplative again. “There was that, not to mention the fact that Blake’s brilliant and always got high marks in school when I was a solid C student. So I went into high school with my self-esteem already crumpled. The only thing I was ever good at was baking, but I wanted to show my dad there was more to me than that. Unfortunately, he just never really seemed to see it.” Marilee shrugs. “Then I met Donny, and he was this big football star—like a knight in shining armor. I was in awe, and my dad… It was like he finally approved of me.”
Ugh, I hate that for her. “Donny definitely put on a good act.” For others, anyway. I always saw him for exactly who he was, but I think that’s because he wanted me to. He didn’t care about hiding from me, because he never really saw me as a threat to what he wanted. “Most narcissists do.”
“But you’d think after a while, I’d see through the facade. I saw cracks occasionally, but I wrote them off. He was the great Donny Franklin, and I was just…me. Out of all the girls, he wanted me .”
“Like that’s so hard to believe?”
I want to blurt out that I wanted her the moment I first saw her. But tonight isn’t about my confessions. It’s about her, and I have this feeling she needs to get it all out. She needs to come full circle with her emotions and realize that this was not her fault.
A sigh slips from her lips, heavy with regret. “I ignored the signs. I got so tangled up that I didn’t know who I’d be without him. And I was scared to find out.”
My heart clenches at her tone, so vulnerable and defeated. “Lee, I know I’ve asked this before, but…he never hit you, did he?”
“No. And that’s the thing. He wasn’t outright abusive. He just made me feel…less than.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, fighting back tears. “When I miscarried over and over again, he joked that I was defective. Said nobody else would put up with my mess, with my broken pieces, the way he did.”
“That absolute piece of—” I trail off, biting the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I shift closer, unable to restrain my desire to comfort her. “You know it’s not true, right, Lee? He said that to feel powerful because he was weak.”
She wipes away a tear, shaking her head, and the sight shatters me. “I believed him, though. I still kind of do sometimes. I thought I deserved the pain, like I was being punished for not leaving him sooner. No children should grow up in a household like that. So it felt like…feels like…my fault—every bit of it.”
A fresh wave of tears spills down her face, and I’ll be darned if I let her suffer alone. I surge forward, pulling her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her like a fortress. “No, Marilee. You did NOT deserve any of that. Not one bit. And if you believe anything he said, you’re just allowing him to win.”
She clings to me, soaking my shirt with tears. After a moment, her breathing slows and she shudders. “You’re right.” Pulling back, she looks me in the eyes, her arms still draped around my neck. With trembling fingers, she runs her palm down my cheek, a touch that sends shivers coursing through me. “You’ve always been right, Jordan. I should have left him when you begged me to, but I was too scared.”
“We don’t have to talk about that now.”
She shakes her head, something fierce and determined in her expression. “But it matters. I pushed you away that night, told you that if you were a friend, you’d support me. I threatened to cut off all communication if you said anything bad about Donny. Who does that?”
“Lee, it’s okay.”
“But it’s not okay,” she insists, her voice rising slightly, filling with emotion. “You were there for me, and I just…I never appreciated it. Never appreciated you.” Her gaze locks onto mine, and there’s an intensity in the moment, something raw and honest that sends my heart racing. “I should have seen you.”
Then, as if time suspended, she leans in, and I can feel the electric tension crackling in the air. Her lips hover tantalizingly close to mine, and I can’t help but want to bridge the gap. I’m on fire. Every part of me screams to kiss her, to drown in this moment, but my instincts hold me back.
Honorable is the last thing I want to be right now, but it’s what’s right for her. For us. I have to be sure that she’s sure. I don’t want any regrets between us. So I gently place my hands on her arms, slowly pushing her back. “Lee,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of desire and restraint.
She blinks, a blush creeping up her cheeks, and I see the realization dawn in her eyes. “Sorry, I just…”
“No, don’t be sorry,” I say quickly, searching for the right words. “It’s just that…” How to find the words? “I don’t want you to kiss me just because I’m not Donny, or because I’ve said something that’s always been true.”
Her brow furrows in confusion. “You don’t want to kiss me?”
“Not tonight.” I squeeze her arms, grounding us both. “Tonight’s been a whirlwind, and you look exhausted.”
And as if punctuating my point, she yawns adorably, small and vulnerable, and I can’t help but chuckle as I pull her back into my chest, cradling her against me.
“Tomorrow, though,” I murmur. “If you feel the same way, then…” I trail off, feeling the promise hanging in the air, fragile and intoxicating.
“Tomorrow?” she asks, her voice laced with sleepiness.
“Tomorrow. Or whenever. If you still want to.”
“Promise?” Her eyes flutter closed, bewitching in their innocence.
“I do.”
The words hang between us, a sacred vow. With her nestled against me, the world outside fades, leaving only the soothing sound of rain and the steady beat of our hearts. Tomorrow holds the unknown, but tonight, we exist in this cocoon of warmth and unspoken possibilities, the embers of something real flickering ever so gently, waiting to ignite fully under the right kind of spark.
For the first time in a long time, I have hope.
And that’s a beautiful thing.