41
Air e
T hey were calling it the trial of the century. My grandfather was on trial for conspiracy to kill my husband. Or my non-husband, since our marriage was declared void.I could not go to court without being hounded by the press, but I was there when Nolan testified, and then when I had to testify against Kenneth Burgess. The media, in particular, the lifestyle variety, ate the trial up and reported on it breathlessly. Kenneth Burgess was back to being a sick old man again and blamed everything on his deranged granddaughter, Aelin. But the jury did not buy his act. After a few hours of deliberation, the jury found him guilty and sentenced him to what would be a few years for a young person, but to him, it was effectively a death sentence.
I was glad the drama was over and so was Nolan. I had already given birth to our son by the time the trial was over, and he was now four months old. Nolan loved him. He was a good father and a good caregiver. He had been with me throughout the pregnancy and the delivery. He wanted to do the fatherly things and insisted on sharing duties. And when I was tired, he would help put my son to sleep.
We named him Forrest. Nolan wanted to break the cycle, he said, and he would be the first Nolan Hawthorne in generations, not to name his first-born son after himself. He let me pick the name, which was even more touching. He was trying to let go of his need to control everything, and I had to commend him for that. He even told Magnus not to meal prep weeks ahead of time and instead surprise us with a dish every day, which was refreshing. Magnus took it as a chance to show off his mighty cooking skills.
As Forrest grew older and became more self-reliant, I found time to work on my painting. It was almost done and would be my parting gift to him. I know he said he wanted us to stay together for Forrest, but the longer I spent time with him, the more I realized how hard that would be. I loved him and he didn't love me. I would always be yearning for something more.
When I heard him enter the house, I lifted my canvas from the easel and looked at one last moment. I hoped he liked it. Before he could reach his bedroom, I ran to it and placed it on the chest of drawers that faced the bed and went to my room. I had already packed. All I need to do was to convince him we had to separate. Maybe not now. Maybe when Forrest was two years old.
Nolan was speaking to Mangus when I saw him in the kitchen. He had removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. He always looked devastatingly handsome when he was like that. As though he was unraveled. And as if he sensed my presence, he turned to me and smiled. My heart melted. This was going to be hard.
"Can I talk to you?"
His smile faltered when he saw how serious I was, and he nodded. "Let's go to the study."
"Anything wrong," he said as soon as I closed the door. "Is Forrest okay?"
"He's fine. It has nothing to do with Forrest. Or maybe it does. Uh..." I took a deep breath, remembering that this was when what I knew about myself turned out to be a lie. Months had passed, but the event remained etched in my mind. "Can I take a seat?" I went to the settee and Nolan rushed to help me sit.
"Are you okay?" His hand stroked my back. Worry all over his face.
"I'm fine." I folded my hands in my lap. It was now or never.
"We can't go on like this. We can't keep pretending like our situation is fine."
Nolan nodded, and my heart sank. Somehow, I didn't want confirmation that he felt the same way, but here it was. Clear as day that he didn't want me. "We need to get married. For real this time."
"What?"
"Is that not what you want?"
"I..." It was not what I expected him to say.
"Because I want to create a future with you."
"But you don't like me."
Nolan looked taken aback. "I love you." He said it gently. Softly.
"No, you—"
He took my hands in his and held them firm. "Aire. I love you. I can't live without you. I don't want to. A life without you is something so unbearable that I don't even want to think about."
I searched his eyes. He was speaking the truth. I could not believe it.
"I know you probably don't feel the same," he said, "But I hope that over time I can be the man you want as a companion and as a friend. But if you don't want to be with me. I will not stop you, but I hope you can give me a chance to prove... Why are you laughing? "
I was holding back my mirth, but I burst out a giggle. I couldn't contain myself. Tears rushed down my cheeks. "Because I thought you didn't love me. I was about to leave you because I thought you hated me. You don't have to prove anything to me because I love you, too."
It was his turn to smile. "You do?"
I nodded, then took his face in my hands and gave him a kiss that showed just how much I was deeply, irrevocably, in love with Nolan Hawthorne. It was a while before we came apart for air and when we did, Nolan's cheeks were tear stained as well. They weren't my tears; they were his. They were tears of joy.
The End.