33. “Let It Go” - James Bay
“Let It Go” - James Bay
Henry looks like he’s struggling to hold it together. I do a quick scan to make sure he doesn’t have any injuries. He looks perfectly normal, still wearing his shirt and pants from earlier, although they’re a little rumpled now.
His face is lined with anger. What he’s angry about is a mystery, though, since I’m the one who has been waiting on him for the past . . . I check my phone. Four hours.
“Where have you been?” I say, getting to my feet. “You ignored my calls.”
He comes inside and shuts the door. “You knew?”
“Knew what?”
“Just answer the question, Celia.” He remains on the other side of the room, arms folded over his chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” It’s like my conversation with Preston all over again.
“Elizabeth! I’m talking about Elizabeth.”
My mind spins. Is she sick, maybe with cancer or something? She looked perfectly healthy the last time I saw her.
Then it hits me.
Henry registers the change on my face. “C.” There’s a warning in his tone. “Tell me you didn’t know.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you think I know,” I say.
He takes a few long steps toward me. “Did you know that Axel isn’t mine?”
“I—” It’s all I can get out. My throat feels as though it’s closing up.
“Libby said she told you. Tell me she’s wrong so I can take you across your desk right now.”
My brain is instantly sidetracked by that thought, causing a flush to climb my neck and face. As much as I want to dwell on what he’s proposed, I drag my mind back to the issue at hand. “I can’t.”
His eyes narrow. “You can’t deny it?”
I slowly shake my head. It hurts to look at him right now. I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling him. Opening my desk drawer, I reach for the aspirin bottle at the back. I shake several of them into my palm and swallow them dry.
Henry lets out an angry snort and begins pacing. “You knew that Axel wasn’t my son and you let me believe it anyway?”
I hope no one can hear him in the hallway. “I thought it was what you would want.”
“What I wanted was for us to have no more secrets.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Did you know my father raped her?” His voice is so loud, I’m pretty sure it can be heard from Maisie’s office across the corridor.
“Yes.” Dropping my head, I stare at the envelopes on my desk, the pastel colors blurring.
“I guess your fears about me being the father of your children weren’t unfounded after all.”
I suck in a deep breath and look up at him. “That’s not true,” I say. “You are not your father. I never should have doubted you.”
Henry gives me a sardonic grin. “I think we both know you dodged a bullet though, right?”
I start to shake my head, but he turns and walks across the room again. “I understand that you were trying to protect me,” he says.
“Yes.” I want to shout it, there is so much relief coursing through my veins right now. “I thought you would prefer it this way. So that you can be Axel’s father in all the ways that matter.”
“Which I fully intend to do. But that doesn’t change what you did.”
The bottom of my stomach drops out, leaving a horrible chasm behind. “Elizabeth asked me not to tell you.”
“And I asked you not to keep secrets from me.” He turns to look at me.
“It was an impossible choice,” I say.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Not impossible. Because I’m your husband. You should always choose me.”
“I thought I was!”
“You kept this from me. How could you possibly think I would be okay with that?”
I wipe the moisture on my cheek away with the back of my hand. “If I had told you what she said, you would have said I was just trying to sabotage the whole thing.”
“And why do you think that is?” There is so much sorrow in his voice, it cracks my heart in two.
“I’m so sorry, Henry.” A sob works its way up my throat. “You have no idea how sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
The corners of his mouth lift in what could be a smile but is way too sad. “I know it won’t,” he says. “Because I’m leaving.”
The room tilts, and I place my palms on my desk to keep from spinning with it. “Please don’t,” I whisper. Not again.
This can’t be happening again.
His face crumples as he fights to hold back his emotions. “C, I wanted this to work so badly. But I can’t be with someone who has such a strong need to control everything.”
I want to tell him that that was me releasing control. That if I wanted control, I would have sold Elizabeth’s story to the press and basked in our scandal-free name. I wouldn’t have spared Bea the public scrutiny by distracting them with something that only made my own image look worse.
But I don’t say anything.
“My father controlled me for years. I can’t saddle myself with that again.”
Henry’s right. Of course he’s right. I have attempted to control his actions for our entire marriage, not to mention those of the other members of our family. But I’m done with that.
I nod, and the action makes more tears brim over and slide down my face. Several of them drop from my chin and splatter onto the envelopes on the desk. A splash of pink, ivory, and yellow.
Adelaide warned me weeks ago that only the weak think controlling others constitutes real power.
“Okay,” I manage to get out. “I understand.”
I don’t know if it’s the answer he’s expecting. His actions are the opposite of what I’m expecting. He approaches the desk, and my body immediately responds the way it does any time he’s near—every nerve in my body tingles with anticipation.
Warm hands slide around my neck and lift my head. I look up at him through my tears. His eyes are wet with moisture, too. He uses his thumbs to brush the drops from my cheeks, then he leans down to presses his lips to mine.
The kiss is soft and sweet, and I want to enjoy it, I really do, but I can only taste the bittersweet flavors of a future ending before it ever began. This isn’t I forgive you or I’m sorry or Come to bed with me.
This is goodbye.
And my heart shatters into a million little pieces.
I want to cling to him, to beg him not to go, to forgive me, to understand, to please give us another shot. But I’ve already lost him by doing that very thing. It’s time to allow people to make their own choices, regardless of the consequences.
And so I accept his kiss and seal it away in my memory. The spearmint taste of his mouth. The way he cradles my face in his hands. The softness of those lips. The smooth glide of his tongue.
And when he lets go of me and takes a step backward, I stay where I am. I don’t race around the desk to stop him. I don’t call after him. I don’t say anything at all. I stay here and do the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I watch him leave.