Chapter 29
Dawn should be hopeful. A sign of possibility in an uncharted day. But this morning, the clouded sun brings hazy prospects.
Last night, sleep was plagued with spiraling questions. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just give him children? Am I that selfish? Why can’t I be happy with what’s in front of me?
I have limits. My heart simply cannot get there.
Which is why I must leave.
Harlan knocks before he lets himself into the house.
While he wipes his feet on the doormat, he catches sight of my luggage.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, slumps his shoulders, and closes his red-rimmed eyes.
After a sigh, his pained gaze finds mine.
Without a word, he approaches me and pulls me into his arms.
Neither of us says anything. The embrace feels loaded. Heavy with sadness.
“I need you to know something.” His whisper breaks with anguish. “I am so in love with you, and I want a life with you.”
“Me too.” Tears flow as I burrow into him. “I’m so sorry, Harlan.”
Pulling me back, he cradles my face, wiping away moisture. “Why in the world would you apologize?”
“Because I want to give you everything. And I can’t.” I force the last words out with a sob and return my head to his strong chest.
He moves his hand along my back in soothing strokes. “This is my fault.”
My scoff is muffled. “Because you want more children? I would call that normal.” I pull out of his hold and walk behind the kitchen island.
As he surveys the room, he throws a hand out to my luggage. “When do you leave?”
“Soon.” I rummage through my purse. “Here. Will you please deliver these to your mom and your brother?” Holding out sealed envelopes, I avoid eye contact. “I canceled my appointment with Prissy and am on the next flight out of Colorado Springs.”
His fingers graze mine as I pass the cards for his family to him. “You can’t let go of Twelve Bluebells Ranch, Meredith. You lit up yesterday explaining your vision.”
I imagine my effort to smile is as grim as I feel.
“I wish you’d reconsider talking to Prissy.” He shakes his head. “But I’ll take you to the airport.”
I trudge to the pantry and stop to look at him. “Don’t make me say goodbye to you in public. This is hard enough as it is.”
Thumbs hooked through his belt loops, he blows out a loud exhale. “I’ll ask William if he can drive you.”
After I grab the leftover boxes of white chocolate–covered Oreos, I turn. “I’m covered. I caught Hank working the grounds this morning and asked him for a ride.” I put the packages on the counter next to him.
The wrapper crinkles when he traces a finger down the side. “How’d that go?”
Walking to the bedroom, I call back, “He said, ‘You want me to tan your hide?’”
Harlan chuckles half-heartedly.
When I return to the kitchen, I place the blue Post-it pad and pencil beside the other items.
He rubs his day-old whiskers. “I’m not even sure not having kids is a deal-breaker. It just blindsided me.” Distress covers his face, and his words are a plea. “I thought we were going in one direction, and I assumed we were on the same page. I need some time. Can you give that to me?”
My knotted stomach clenches, but I don’t have words to respond.
His eyes mist as he stares at the items on the island. “I need more time,” he whispers.
“Your heart’s desires won’t change with more time,” I say gently and place my hand over his. “And that’s okay.”
“That’s not fair. It’s not about changing my heart’s desires.
” He paces two steps and clasps his hands to the back of his neck.
“I just—” He turns, and his expression rages with confusion, devastation, and frustration.
“You’re making a decision for both of us.
You’ve had time to think about this, and you’re making this decision for both of us. ”
“At what point in a relationship is it time to let the person you’re dating know this kind of thing?” I don’t want to sound defensive, but I know the strength and slight rise in my volume are matching his. “There’s no manual for this, Harlan. It’s all just hard. It’s all just impossible.”
“Don’t do that.” He steps to me, takes my hand, and places it over his heart. “This is not impossible. Do not give up on us.”
“I’m not giving up on us.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve made a decision for both of us.”
“If I don’t make this decision, you’ll give up what you want out of life. That can’t be the foundation of our relationship. You’ll resent me for it. I’ll always feel guilty about it. I’m making this decision so we don’t implode later.”
His face is set. Determined. “Yes, it’s a lot to let go of and adjust to overnight. I can’t tell you I’m okay with it right now. But”—his voice cracks and heartbreaking emotion crosses his face—“I also can’t tell you I’m ready to walk away from you. Don’t do this, Meredith.”
His heart pounds underneath my hand, and I stare into his pained eyes, barely able to speak. “I don’t want to walk away from you either. But I can’t do this. We can’t do this.”
He studies my face, exhales a long breath, and pulls me in to press a kiss to my forehead. “I love you.”
“I know. I love you too.” Tears rush down my cheeks as he tightens his arms around me in an embrace that could consume me whole.
In a blur of hushed words, final squeezes, and soul-wrenching pain, Harlan leaves the guesthouse.
I press my palms to the closed door. My choppy breath calms in time for Hank to arrive and load my luggage. I’m comatose watching him enter, pick up a bag, and exit the house.
When he returns, he inspects the room. “What about those?” He nods to my pair of Texas-flag cowboy boots lined up next to the door.
The memory of square dance shopping and the hope that filled those boots seeps bittersweet sadness through me. I may not belong here anymore, but somehow those boots do. They can’t go with me.
I lock eyes with Hank. “Leave them here.”