Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Joshua
The bath was a perfect thirty-eight degrees and a glass full of chilled water with a twist of lime was in arm’s reach.
I wasn’t exactly sure I got the frankincense, but I could definitely make out the lavender in my new bath oil.
It was a special blend, supposed to de-stress and unleash creativity.
Even so, I couldn’t sit still and I wasn’t coming up with any new ideas.
Instead, my mind was stuck on a loop of my last conversation with Hartford twenty-one days ago.
I’d been trying to figure out why I hadn’t tried harder to stop her from turning her back on me.
It was the same thing that was stopping me from going after her now.
There was a roadblock in my way I hadn’t worked out how to dismantle.
She’d told me what she needed from me. I just had to figure out if I could give it to her. What did I want? I knew I liked her and wanted something more. What I didn’t know was whether or not I was capable of more.
One thing was for sure—I knew I wasn’t going after her before I knew whether or not I could give her what she needed. She deserved better than that.
I sighed and sank into the bath so the water covered my head.
Eventually I surfaced and pulled in a deep breath.
“Joshua?” Someone was calling my name. “Joshua?”
Who was in my flat? What the actual fuck?
I leapt out of the bath, pulled a towel around my waist, and snatched open the door.
Andrew was standing on the other side of it.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I grabbed another towel off the pile and rubbed it over my head.
“I came to talk.” He sounded calm, like it was perfectly natural to be accosting someone in their own bathroom. “Put some clothes on and meet me in the living room.”
“How did you get in here?” He didn’t answer, just pulled my bedroom door closed behind him.
Did he have bad news? Was he okay?
I pulled on a t-shirt and some jeans as quickly as possible and raced into the living room. “What’s going on?”
He was sitting on my sofa, flicking through a copy of Conde Nast Traveler. It didn’t look like he was the bearer of bad news. He closed the magazine and tossed it onto my coffee table, then nodded at the sofa opposite. “Take a seat.”
“Andrew, this is my flat. I’ll sit if I want to,” I replied as I sat down.
“I’m here on behalf of the group,” he said on a sigh.
“What group?”
He tilted his head and gave me an are-you-really-that-stupid look.
“Is this an intervention?” I asked.
“Call it what you like, but I don’t have much time, so let’s cut to the chase.”
“Why change the habit of a lifetime?”
“It’s about Hartford.”
My stomach whooshed to my knees. What had happened?
“We heard from Autumn or Hollie—I can’t remember which, but one of the Americans—that you two had a disagreement. What’s happened?”
He’d come here to tell me about circulating gossip? I’d been enjoying my bath. Sort of. “What’s it got to do with you?” I asked, bristling at the interrogation.
“So, let’s summarize. Last time we talked about this, you’d realized you really liked this woman but didn’t think she’d take you seriously because you’ve never been in a committed relationship.
So with help from the group, you decided you were going to prove to her that you could offer her more than just sex. ”
Wow. No one could ever accuse Andrew of beating around the bush. “Thanks for the recap.”
“Well, did you convince her?”
Good God, this man was matter-of-fact. “Negative.” I sighed, my defensiveness deflating. He was here because he was my mate. Not my enemy. He was trying to help. I sat back in the chair. “We had sex. But not just sex. You know?”
“You connected,” Andrew said. “So, why am I here?”
“Who the bloody hell knows? I was minding my own business in the bath. Which reminds me, how did you get in here?”
He rolled his eyes as if it was the inanest question he’d ever heard. “I need a drink. And so do you.”
He went over to the bar, pulled some whiskey from the shelf, and came back holding two glasses.
“From what I hear from the Americans, you and Hartford still aren’t together. I’m here to find out why. It’s not like you to fail when you set your mind to something.”
I groaned, threw back the whiskey then reached to retrieve the bottle. The tawny, smokey pour soured in my stomach. I hated the idea that what Hartford and I had over the last few months was just gone.
I didn’t know how to answer the question. “She told me she didn’t want to lose herself in me. From what I can piece together, she’s concerned that her feelings are deeper than mine.”
“Are they?”
I tipped my head back on the sofa and tried to swallow down the spikey uncertainty stuck in my throat.
“She’s scared of caring more. And I want to show her there’s nothing to be frightened of .
. . but can I make that guarantee? I want to be able to reassure her.
I want to be able to tell her that I’ll never leave. But I can’t. And neither can she.”
Andrew tapped his index finger on the arm of the chair. “You’re scared.”
“She’s important,” I said. “Like, really important. I want her to be happy before I want her to be with me. Especially when . . . I have no idea how to have a relationship. I was a kid when I was with Diana. This is real life now, and I’m bound to make a complete hash of it.
Do I really want to put Hartford through that? Of course I’m scared of hurting her.”
“Hurting her—yes, I’m sure you don’t wish to do that. And of course, you’re scared of being hurt.”
“No. I wouldn’t—I mean, I don’t—It’s Hartford. I don’t want to hurt Hartford.”
“You’re a good guy, Joshua.”
“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt Hartford.
Not ever. I don’t want to be the guy that ruins her.
That gives her emotional scars she has to live with for the rest of her life.
” I hated what she’d been through with having to give up ballet and throwing herself into her work.
She was a good person and deserved someone who had some kind of lifetime guarantee.
“Loving and being loved by someone is a big responsibility. It’s not to be taken lightly.”
Finally he was getting it. “Right. And I want to be with Hartford. Today. And tomorrow. I can’t imagine a day that I won’t want to be with her, but maybe there will be one. I just can’t say for certain.”
“No one can.”
“Harford needs someone who can.”
“There won’t ever be someone who can make that guarantee honestly. Not for Hartford. Not for anyone.”
That was probably true. But that’s what I wanted for Hartford. That’s what she deserved.
“Which is why you need to figure out if there’s enough trust,” Andrew continued.
“No one can see into the future but you have to trust yourself to take care of her heart. And you need to trust her to take care of yours. And if you do, ask yourself, are you willing to take the risk? Is it worth the risk of hurting her and being hurt?”
Andrew always managed to reduce problems down to their most basic elements. And now he had, the answer was clear. Hartford deserved my faith, my trust. My vulnerability. She deserved me fighting for her.
I trusted that Hartford would never say she was going to marry me and then get cold feet and not turn up.
I trusted her to tell me everything she was thinking, whether or not I wanted to hear it.
I trusted her to love me. And I knew myself well enough that I would do whatever it took to make sure that her heart was kept safe in my hands. I trusted myself to love her.
I drained my glass and slid it across the table. “I take it you can let yourself out, seeing as you let yourself in.” I stood and headed to my bedroom to get dressed. “Anyone tells you you’re a cold-hearted bastard, tell them I said they’re full of shit.”
Andrew saluted me and I gave him a nod.
I had somewhere to be.