60. Nora
CHAPTER 60
NORA
It’s only midnight when Amber and I get home. She wanders off in the direction of one of the guest rooms, yawning hugely and telling me, “We should do that again.”
We found a bar nearby that had good music, people our age, beer and wine and not a fancy cocktail in sight. We danced and talked and were approached by two groups of guys. I talked to a few of them, and I didn’t get too nervous.
But I don’t want a single one of them.
And I don’t want to go to sleep—not in his bed, not in my own. I’m too wound up, too irritated, too drunk and too angry at West. He swept into my life, gave me all these lessons, made me feel special, made me fall in love with him. And now? This silent, brooding act reminds me exactly of why he frustrated me so much years ago. His walls are back up, and I don’t know how to bring them down again.
He’s told me he doesn’t like marriage, but ours wouldn’t be like that. Doesn’t he realize that? Unless… he’s worried about being shackled to me. Maybe he likes me now, but he’s never actually said it. Not quite like that.
Neither of us has.
That’s how I find myself upstairs in the studio at nearly one a.m., the lights on, while Darcy lies sprawled out on an old futon, watching me steam silk.
The fashion show is in two days. I’ve gone over everything, everything , but I’m too restless to relax.
The white corset dress might not be strong enough. It might need more flair, more color, or a better fit. I might not win. It might be a disaster.
And now he’s out somewhere, and I don’t even know where. I’ve never cared about a man like this before. For a long time I wasn’t sure that I even could.
At least I have experience now. If I have to, I can find that strength with someone else. I’ll have to do what I did tonight over and over—chat with men, desperately trying to find a sliver of interest to compete with the roaring feelings I have for West.
It’ll be great. Fantastic. Wonderful.
That’s when I hear the creak of a door and two sharp knocks.
The cat’s ears perk up, and I glance toward the half-open studio door. “Hello?”
The door opens fully, and there’s West. He’s in the same clothes he wore when he left, but they’re wet now. His jacket is discarded, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his forearms. His eyebrows are drawn low.
“There you are,” he says.
My grip on the steamer tightens. “You were looking for me?”
“Yes,” he says. “First in my bed, then in yours. But you weren’t there.”
“I’m not ready for sleep,” I say. My voice doesn’t waver. “Where have you been?”
“Out,” he says.
“That’s wonderfully descriptive.”
He takes a step forward, and I watch as the cat’s tail twitches in irritation.
“Rafe and I confronted Ben Wilde,” he says. “You’ll be left alone now.”
“Oh… you went together?”
“It wasn’t planned that way. But yes.” His eyes move over the dresses and outfits I have hung on the rack, the two dress forms. “I told him that he’s not allowed to be angry with you.”
“Rafe?”
“Yes. If he needs to be angry at anyone, it should be me, not you. I can’t ruin your relationship with your brother.”
I turn the steamer off and set it down. “If anyone’s going to be responsible for the breakdown in my relationship with my brother, it’s going to be me,” I say, “and my own actions.”
West’s jaw tightens. “I can’t take things from you, Nora. I can’t handle that—you making sacrifices.”
“You don’t take things from me,” I say, “except these last few days. You’ve been… you’ve been like a different version of yourself, ever since we agreed to…” I can’t say the word. It was something beautiful back then, an exciting idea—the prospect of being his wife.
Now it feels dirty, tainted by his reaction and by how he feels about marriage. Outside the windows, another bolt of lightning flashes over the ocean.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough. “It wasn’t fair of me. I’ve been struggling with all of it, and… Sweetheart. I can’t let you marry me.”
I look away to blink back the tears that threaten to choke me. “All right.” My voice sounds thin. “It was just a suggestion. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”
“Nora,” he says.
I’m already up and out of the chair. “We can pretend we never spoke about it. It’s fine. You’ll find someone else, someone better suited, and I’ll just move out. Thanks for taking care of the stalker.” My arms wrap around my chest. “I appreciate that.”
His face is pained, like he’s the one being hurt. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” I ask. “You’ve barely spoken to me the last few days. I thought we were—I thought…” My voice chokes up. “Damn you.”
“Yes. Damn me.” His hands are tense at his sides, like he wants to reach for me but can’t bring himself to. “That’s why I can’t let you agree to this. Not when you’d be giving up so much.”
“Giving up so much?”
“When you offered to marry me…” he says, illuminated by another sharp twinge of lightning outside the window. The thunder follows like clockwork. “Fuck, Nora, when you said you’d be my wife, I got it all. Do you realize that?”
The air between us feels charged. Electric. I take a step back, and my calves brush against the low futon I’ve been using to drape fabric over.
“I got every last thing I could ever ask for, and I’ve hated myself for agreeing.” He takes a deep breath. “You offered because it would help me. You’re kind and loyal and beautifully pragmatic, and I bet you think it’s a great solution. Maybe you even tell yourself that it’s what you want. But Nora, I’m the one who benefits. I’m the one who sacrifices nothing and gains everything. I get you and Fairhaven.”
“West,” I say. I sink backward into the futon. Above us, the roof of the manor patters with rain. “That’s not true.”
“It is. I’ve seen it, how you bend and smile and placate, and it would kill me to do that to you. That’s what we’ve been trying to work against. And I can’t…” He takes a ragged breath. “I cannot be the one you shackle yourself to and then start to resent. It doesn’t matter how much I want it. I can’t let you. Not when I know you’re only marrying me to do me a favor.”
It’s hard to breathe. I shake my head, faster this time. “You didn’t tell me all of this. You just pulled away from me. You left me all alone in this.”
“I know.” He sinks to his knees, bracing his hands on either side of me. “I’m sorry. I’ve been fighting with myself every day. Because I’m selfish, trouble. So damn selfish.”
I blink away tears. “So you’re pulling away to help me?”
“Nora.” His voice is agonized. “You deserve more.”
“More? But we… We used to talk before this. We used to… it felt like… was I imagining it, West?” My voice shakes. “You and me? That it felt like so much more than just…?”
“No. You haven’t imagined anything. Nothing about this has been fake. Not for me.” His face is level with mine. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything. I want you here, forever. I want you as my wife. That’s why, selfishly, it took me days to tell you this, because you’ve given me exactly what I want. You.” He shakes his head slowly. “But I can’t handle the thought of you marrying me just to help me out—that you’re thinking of what I need and not what you want.”
He bends forward and rests his forehead in my lap. It’s a genuflection and an apology, his hands turning into fists beside my legs. One of them is bruised over the knuckles. Has he been fighting again? “I’m sorry for everything. Fuck, Nora, I…”
I run my hand over his hair. This is familiar, even when it feels like my insides are breaking. Shattering like the electricity outside the windows, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.
Breaking open.
“What are you telling me?” I ask him. “That you want to marry me, but you can’t, because it’s not actually what I want?”
West pushes back up. There’s fire in his eyes. “You can’t marry me to make me happy. It has to be to make you happy.”
“To make me happy,” I repeat.
“Yes.” He takes a ragged breath. “I love you. I know that wasn’t on your list of things to practice, but here it is. I love you. And it’s torn me apart, knowing that all the practicing we were doing was for someone else. Someone in your future.” His hands slide closer, gripping the outside of my thighs, like he can’t resist. “I want to be your future. But I won’t let you tie yourself to me unless you know what marriage would mean. Unless you know exactly how not fake I want it to be.”
“You love me,” I whisper.
“So much that it’s breaking my heart, trouble.” He smiles a little, but it’s a pained expression. “And if you don’t want this… then we don’t get married. I can be your boyfriend. We can keep practicing dating if you want that. I’ll be anything you want, I’ll be your friend, as long as I can be in your life.”
I can’t look at him, but I can’t look away. Can’t think around the roaring in my head.
He loves me.
He wants me.
And he waited to tell me all of this.
I grip the collar of his rain-soaked shirt. “West,” I tell him. “Why don’t you trust me?”
His eyes widen. “I do. I trust you more than anyone.”
“But you don’t trust me to know what I want,” I say. “I told you that I wanted to marry you.”
“Yes. But not because it’s what you craved.” His hands slide up, come to grip my waist. His usual handhold. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you all of this. But I was fucking terrified, sweetheart, that I’d see you use your techniques on me. I never want you to humor me.”
“When have I ever humored you?” I hold up my right hand, and the bracelet still around my wrist. “You’re the one person I can get angry with who won’t walk away. You told me that.”
“It’s still true.”
“Then I am angry with you.”
“Good,” he says. “That’s good.”
“You love me?” Something hot tracks down my cheek, and of course, I always cry when I’m frustrated or overwhelmed. Why would this be any different? “You want to marry me?”
“More than anything.”
“Tell me. Tell me all the things you want,” I order. He hesitates, glancing out the windows to the stormy night beyond. “It won’t influence my answer. Trust me to be honest.”
He looks back at me. “What I want, Nora,” he says, his voice raw, “is for you to stay here forever. For you to be mine. For there to be no more faking between us—not ever. I want you on my arm. I want you wearing my ring. More than anything, I want you happy. I want to see you designing. I want to hear you say no a thousand more times. I want to make you come, and I want to watch you smile and laugh. I want to watch you charm everyone we meet. I want you in my bed. I want you in my office. I want you by my side.” The words hang in the air, making it hard to breathe. “It’s terrifying, I know. It terrified me. Marriage has always been something to be avoided. I’ve seen the way my parents did it, the punishments, the secrets, the games… if you give someone the key, they will wreck you. But you already have the key, sweetheart. And you’re welcome to wreck me as long as it means you’ll stay.”
He shakes his head, his voice dropping. “I’m scared of what you’ll say now because… you love making people happy.” He pauses, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. They’re glazed. “But I still want your honesty, now more than ever. Even if it destroys me.”
The crack inside me feels wide open, a gaping chasm, and the only way through is to dive in. To give him the same honesty that he’s given me.
“I’ll be honest. And you have to trust me when I tell you what I want this time, okay? You’re the one who helped teach me how to do it.” I take a deep breath. “For years, I’ve wanted love. I wanted to want someone, but it never happened. I kept everyone at arm’s length.” My hand around his collar softens, slides up to his neck. “And now you tell me you love me.”
“I do,” he says, “but you don’t have to say it back unless you mean it.”
“So little faith you have in me.” But I’m smiling a little, another tear rolling down my cheek. His eyes track it. “West, do you know why I suggested we marry?”
He doesn’t seem to be breathing. He’s still on his knees, arms braced on either side of me.
“Because I didn’t want this to end. Because I didn’t want to leave you,” I say. “You’ve made me feel safe and wanted and supported. You made it effortless for me to be myself with you. You’ve made it so easy to love you. Every step of the way, you’ve made me feel more things than I ever thought I could. I love you too. Of course I do.”
There’s no reaction in him. Nothing apart from the quick uptick in his pulse, pounding beneath my fingers on his neck.
“West,” I murmur.
His eyes are incredulous. “You love me?”
“Yes.” I smile at him, a bit shy. “This is what it feels like, right? Like I’ve been given an extra dose of energy, of self-confidence, of happiness. Like I can’t focus, can’t think when you’re not around. Like you’re my favorite person in the world. The person I can be myself with.”
“I think so.” He’s smiling now, and rain continues to pour down outside, but in here, it’s blazing summer. “That’s how it feels for me. Like you’ve become the center of my universe.”
“You haven’t…?”
“Before you? No.”
“I guess you can’t teach me this, then.” My nails scrape gently over the back of his neck, his hair tickling my fingers. “We’ll have to figure it out together.”
He leans in and kisses me. It’s soft and warm, and the crack that yawned open inside me fills up with him.
“As long as you want me, I’m yours.” He kisses my cheek, my nose. Rests his forehead against mine. “We don’t need to get married. I’ll be your boyfriend.”
“You can’t lose Fairhaven.”
“Don’t marry me because you think there’s a sword over my head. The estate doesn’t matter. I’ll lose it before I lose you.” His hands tighten around my waist. “I won’t let you go.”
“I won’t let you lose it,” I tell him. “I won’t let you lose anything. We’re a team, you and me. We love each other.” My voice falters at the end, at the words being put out into the universe. At a truth so recently acknowledged being spoken aloud.
“Things should happen at your pace. When you’re comfortable,” he says. “If we do this… you’d marry me at the end of the summer.”
“Yeah. I’ve done the math.” My lips widen into a smile. “I’d do anything for you, West.”
He shakes his head slowly. “But I’d never ask you to do a damn thing for me.”
“I know. That’s why I would.”
“Be selfish, Nora. Please.”
I tighten my hands behind his neck. “But I am, West. This is crazy and wild, and I want it. Trust me to make my own decisions. That’s what I want, in every area of my life. Including this one. I want to be your wife.”
“You mean that.” His low voice vibrates with emotion, and his hands pull me forward, off the futon and into his waiting grip. I land in his lap, legs on either side of his kneeling form. “You really mean that.”
“I really, really do.”
“I don’t deserve you, my brave, pretty girl.” He presses kisses to my temple, my cheek, and something feels like it bursts inside me with warmth. “But I’ll always try to. I promise that.”
“I promise to be honest with you. And to get angry at you when I need to.”
“That’s my girl.” He kisses me slowly, sweetly. Heat runs through my veins and drowns out the sound of the storm raging around us.
I lift my lips from his and press a finger to them when he tries to close the distance again. “But Calloway, you still have to propose.”
Beneath my finger, his mouth spreads into a wide grin. “Oh, I will.”