Chapter 48 Ada #3
“How could I have been so foolish, to believe the better of her?”
“Not foolish; optimistic. Not ready to accept the truth. Willing to see the best in others—something I should do a bit more.”
Ingrid gives a rueful smile before she sobers. “You can’t change someone who has no desire to change. But I wish things were
different too.”
Mother’s actions were never those of a woman aspiring to care, nurture, or support. If they had been, she would have been
exactly who Ada always longed for her to be.
Ingrid’s giggle breaks the quiet. “I must say, I’ve missed your impression of her.”
“Shall I regale you with it more often? Or why don’t I practice one of you to expand my repertoire?”
“The pool is just over there, Leidje, and I will have absolutely no regrets about pushing you in. Even if Gordon kills me
for ruining your dress.”
As Ada laughs, the sound of Ingrid’s name reaches their ears. Lars approaches, so Ada nods her sister along. Seconds later,
Ingrid captures him in her arms. Warmth spreads across Ada’s skin as she watches them kiss, then Lars holds her against his
chest. The man who loves Ingrid as she deserves to be loved.
How Ada wishes she would allow herself to be loved similarly. As a twinge of longing flickers in her chest, she stifles it. The love she shared with Vince was indeed similar. Which is precisely why she can’t be with him. Loving him is not worth ruining him.
As Ingrid and Lars return to the party, Ada stays where she is, gazing skyward, and she’s not sure how much time has passed
when footsteps approach, rapid and urgent. A sure sign something is wrong. Ada whirls, and there he is, his eyes bright and
blazing.
“I had no intention of coming tonight, not after that bullshit story you gave the press about me leaving you, and not when
I thought you wouldn’t want me here anyway. But somehow I can’t stay away from you even though I should, and Gordon just told
me about you nearly getting killed and—”
Ada throws her arms around him, and his words cease. Vince clings to her, his grip too tight, his breaths too sharp; then,
just as abruptly, he releases her. Because she is not his to lose anymore. Ada’s throat tightens. An embrace is only an embrace,
words only words, except not when both conjure every feeling and memory she’s fought to forget.
Silence weighs down every second. She can’t allow herself to look at him, to change her mind, so she steps back.
“I thought I had moved past my feelings for you,” he says quietly. “But when I saw you again at the announcement party . . .
How can I ever want anyone else when I know what it’s like to have you?”
His voice, deep and smooth and everything her heart has missed for so long. Even as his words send fire through her core,
a sharp ache follows.
“It’s too complicated.”
“If having a relationship with you, attending your Star Society parties, and being a member of the Committee for the First Amendment haven’t ruined me yet, I’ll be fine.
” Despite the sardonic remark, he clears his throat.
“After the committee’s purpose got misconstrued, most of us recanted anyway.
But if any of those things were destined to ruin my career, shouldn’t I decide if I’m willing to take those risks? ”
This is her opportunity to fight for him as he has never stopped fighting for her. But when she glances at him, he’s already
resigned to that look—indifference. As if they are destined to be what, once again, they have become: two who were and are
no longer.
She swallows hard. “I should have—”
“Don’t, Ada. We’re finished. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known and somehow still a coward when it comes to
us.”
“Is it cowardice to fear hurting the people you love?”
“Only if that fear prevents you from loving as fully as you might.” He steps closer, doesn’t break her gaze. “Once I said
no one would stand in your way because you wouldn’t let them, but I was wrong. You stand in your own way.”
Vince leaves her there, the darkness swallowing him with every step. Soon he will be out of sight, gone, never to return.
They have tried and failed too many times to endure another failure. Except, this time, perhaps they won’t fail.
“Maybe I do stand in my own way,” she calls out to him. “Maybe you aren’t willing to give your heart to anyone unless it won’t
be hurt, except it’s impossible because love will inevitably hurt at times. And maybe we’ll both have to be all right with
that.”
He tenses before facing her. No longer the look of indifference; this time, his expression reveals the same fears and hopes
wrestling inside her. Slowly, cautiously, she approaches until she’s standing before him.
It’s all right to be scared or uncertain or concerned, to choose happiness in spite of those things, to face them together
should they come. A choice that should be so simple, yet is not. Choosing happiness, true happiness, is the choice she has
always failed to make.
If she were to claim such a choice for her own, she would choose this—herself, her decisions, her work, her life, the people within it. Him.
It’s him. Still.
“When I came to this country, all I wanted was to become someone else. I tried and failed, and I’m all right with that—with
who I am and who I’ve become. And through it all I have never stopped loving you.”
A cool breeze tousles his hair while the moonlight sparks in his eyes, darkening them to the deepest blue.
“I made choices for us that we should have made together. I gave up on what we had because I thought it would be best for
you, for both of us. And I shouldn’t ask you to love me in return.” She presses a hand to his cheek, urging him to see into
the deepest parts of her. “I shouldn’t. But I will.”
“And I shouldn’t go through this with you, not when I can’t love you if there’s a possibility of losing you.” He slips a finger
beneath her chin. “But there’s also a possibility, however small, of keeping you. For that, you just might have convinced
me.”
“Good, because there’s only one way we can do this properly: together.”
She guides him nearer while his thumb brushes over her lips, then his kiss settles the thud of her heart, the tension in her
veins, every lingering wonder and worry. Serenaded by her party’s distant merriment and illuminated by the faint moonlight
overhead, she lets the heat of his touch and spicy notes of his cologne pull her into this time, this moment, this night.
Because it has always been him.