Chapter 32
32
Conrad Strauss
W hit looks like he’s seen a ghost as he lowers himself onto the chair. He’s white knuckling the letter in his hand, and his face is red and wet from his tears. He’s devastatingly beautiful, and all I want is to wrap him up in my arms and wipe his tears away, but I can’t do that yet.
My heart hammers, my nerves shot as I’ve prepared for this moment all day. To be honest, there was a large part of me that wondered if Whit would even show up at all. He said he would, but I wouldn’t have blamed him if he decided to back out.
“What is all of this?” he asks cautiously as I take the seat across from him. His hands are in his lap, and his eyes are wide and red-rimmed as they watch me.
“I wanted to eat dinner with you while we talk,” I say, my eyes on his. “While I talk and tell you how sorry I am.”
Whit’s lips part like he may say something, but he slams them shut just as fast. Before he has a chance to try again, I hear the barn doors creak open. We both turn our heads, watching quietly as my nana strolls into the office, a ridiculous apron covered in dachshunds wrapped around her waist and a bucket in her arms filled with ice and a bottle of wine.
She smiles when she spots Whit, but he turns back toward me, confusion passing through his eyes.
“What on earth is going on right now?”
“Welcome to Chateau Strauss,” she greets, coming to a stop in front of the table. I grit my teeth, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger as Whit looks between the two of us. “Would you like a glass of champagne, dear?”
“Uh, sure,” he mumbles before asking again, “What is going on?”
“We are your servers tonight, honey,” she says with a smile. “A lovely dinner was prepared for the two of you, so just sit back, enjoy your wine, and talk amongst yourselves while we finish getting everything ready.”
Whit drags his gaze over to me. “We? Who is we?”
“Me and Nana, of course.” Whit turns around as Shooter strolls into the office, his typical cocky smirk on his face, and a matching apron around his waist. I heave a sigh, still unable to believe they talked me into this. This is ridiculous.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Whit asks.
“Keep up, buttercup,” Shooter quips. “Nana already told you, we’re here to serve you two while you have a nice, candlelit dinner and talk.”
Whit’s stiff as he looks between the three of us before settling on me, the questions clear in his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I breathe out. “They cornered me and talked me into this. It was just supposed to be a dinner I made.”
Surprising me, Whit lets out a small chuckle before he takes a sip from his drink. “You’re getting soft with your old age,” he murmurs, humor lighting up his eyes as they search mine. I breathe out a sigh of relief that he’s not freaked out or pissed.
“We’ll leave you two to it,” Nana says, patting Whit on the back. “Dinner will be out in about ten minutes.”
Shooter and Nana shuffle out, and then we’re left alone. I’ve spent all week thinking about how tonight would go. I’ve rehearsed what I wanted to say ad nauseam, and now that he’s here, it’s like every thought I had is gone. I’m blanking and my nerves are getting the best of me.
Whit sets the letter on top of the table. “Why didn’t you ever give this to me?”
Holding his gaze, I reply honestly. “Because I didn’t deserve you,” I murmur. “I hurt you, and you had every right to leave. I didn’t fight for you when I should’ve, and when you left, I knew I didn’t deserve to fight for you back then.”
His eyes fill with moisture all over again as he chews on the inside of his cheek. The silence between us is deafening.
“I wish you would’ve,” he finally says, his voice filled with emotion. “It’s all I ever wanted, Conrad. For you to fight for me. For us. But you never did. You just let me go. You gave up on us.”
“I never gave up on us,” I say with conviction. “I never gave up on you. I gave up on myself. I lost myself, and it’s no excuse. But I never, ever gave up on us. I have never stopped loving you, Whit.”
A tear falls down his cheek that he doesn’t bother wiping away as he holds my gaze. His bottom lip quivers. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking. Know where his head is at.
“In the letter, you said you’d come for me. You never did. Why?”
I give myself a minute, breathing in, then out, trying to steady my erratic heartbeat. “The year after our divorce was a dark time. I was lost and angry with the world, but mostly at myself for losing you. I ended up seeing somebody.” I clear my throat, admitting this feeling uncomfortable. “A therapist.”
His eyes widen. “You did?”
I nod. “It was hard. Opening up to somebody, a stranger, but I knew I needed to do something. I couldn’t keep living the way I was.”
“I’m honestly really surprised,” he says, shaking his head as he processes. “You were so against the idea of seeing someone with me when we were married. I’m… I’m really proud of you for doing that for yourself. Do you still see them?”
“No. I saw her for a year, and it was incredibly helpful.”
The barn door opens again, and Shooter waltzes back into the office, a tray of food in his hands and a huge grin on his face. “Dinner is ready!” he announces. “Hope you two are hungry.”
“Just set the food down and go, Shooter,” I mutter.
“You’re always so damn grumpy,” he says as he plates up Whit’s food. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”
Whit sniggers before taking another sip of his champagne.
Shooter dishes up my plate before asking, “Are you two back together yet?”
“Goodbye, Shooter,” I growl.
“Alright, alright.” He holds his hands in front of him. “You guys enjoy the food. We’ll be back later to clear the plates.”
Whit lays his napkin on his lap before reaching for his silverware. “This looks delicious,” he says. “Did you make it or did they?”
“I made the pork, but they made the rest.”
“I really can’t believe you let them help you with this.”
Breathing out a chuckle, I say, “They didn’t really leave me much option. The two of them teamed up against me.”
Whit laughs as he takes a bite. “You know, that doesn’t surprise me now that I think about it. They’re both quite stubborn and hardheaded. They’re the perfect team.”
“They’re a pain in my ass,” I grumble.
Whit’s quiet for a moment as we both dig in. They really did do a great job with the food. “Do you remember our first date?” he asks softly.
“How could I forget?” Glancing up at him, I say, “Why do you think I chose this for tonight?”
Cheeks pink, he looks down at his plate, a small smile playing on his lips. “You made steak and potatoes,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Such a Strauss man meal.” He chuckles. “We had beer from a can with our food as we sat right here. You found one of those flameless candles that your mom loved, and you played music in the background while we ate. I was so nervous.”
“You were?” I don’t know why, but that surprises me. Maybe because I was the one who was so nervous I could hardly talk.
“God, yes.” He laughs. “I was crazy about you, and it was weeks after the first time you kissed me, and then pretended it never happened. I wanted to impress you, but I was so inexperienced.”
Reaching over, I cover his hand with mine. “You always impress me, Whit.”
He smiles. It’s small, but it’s there. “I wish you would’ve talked to me before you paid off that loan.” There’s a sadness in his tone, but at least it’s not anger. That gives me hope.
“You’re absolutely right. And I’m sorry,” I murmur, and I can tell he’s surprised by that. “I should’ve talked to you about it. I had no right going behind your back and doing something like that, but please know, I did it with the best of intentions. I understand now why you were so upset, and I’m sorry. I promise to always talk with you before making any big decision like that again, but I also need you to know that if I’m your man, there’s so much more I will do for you than pay a loan. You work too hard and you’re too good of a person to be so stressed all the time. I want you to enjoy life, be happy, and live without the nightmares you get from all the weight on your shoulders. But you’re one hundred percent right; I shouldn’t have made the decision for you. How can I prove myself to you, Whit? I will do anything, wait any amount of time, I just need you to know I never did this to hurt you. Please. What can I do?”
“I know you had good intentions, and I do appreciate what you did. I don’t want you to think I don’t. The whole reason our relationship fell apart the first time was because you wouldn’t communicate with me, and it felt like we were right back there all over again. I know you just wanted to help, and I thank you for that, but I need the communication, Conrad. I need us to be a team if we’re ever going to make this work.”
My heart stutters, unsure if I heard him right. “Make it work,” I repeat. “Does that mean…”
“I love you, Conrad.” Tears stream down his face as emotion pricks the back of my eyes. He’s fidgeting with his hands on the table, but he’s holding my gaze, even though I’m sure it’s hard. “I have always loved you, since I was a young boy who had no business looking at a man like you in that way. I have loved you through all the good times and every last bad one. I have loved you even when I hated myself for it. It has always been you for me, Connie. Always. I don’t think there could ever come a time when I don’t love you, that’s how ingrained in me you are. You are a part of me that I could never get rid of, and I wouldn’t ever want to anyway. You’re it for me too. If I’m your calm creek, then you’re my wild storm. You’re every bit the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins as I am yours, and I desperately need to breathe again. I’m ready to breathe again.”
My throat is tight, and my heart is a wild drum in my chest. “I have waited years to hear you say that,” I croak, emotion laced between my words. “I love you, Whit. So much. I have never stopped.” Sliding out of my seat, I fall to my knees before Whit, taking his hand in mine. “I promise to never let you forget how much I love you, how much you mean to me. I will never stop showing you, for as long as I live. You will never, ever question my love for you ever again.”
Bringing his hand up to my cheek, Whit smiles, eyes glistening and his cheeks soaked. “Kiss me, Connie.”
I lean closer, breathing him in as I whisper, “Gladly,” before sealing my lips to his. His arms wrap around my shoulders as I link mine around his waist, and he groans as soon as my tongue rolls against his. He tastes like champagne and feels like finally truly being at home. My chest swells the longer we kiss, my heart beating erratically. Blood pumping hot, it’s easy to lose myself in Whit, suddenly wanting to say screw dinner, and take him upstairs and devour him instead.
Whit must be thinking the same thing, because a moment later, he breaks his lips away, resting his forehead on mine. “What do we gotta do to get Shooter and Nana off our case so we can be alone?”
Chuckling, I press one last kiss against his lips before we separate and stand. “Take the bottle of champagne to the room, and I’ll handle the rest.”
A grin splits his face, eyes twinkling with arousal. “I can do that.”
He’s almost toward the exit, when I call after him. “Oh, and Whit?” When he throws me a look over his shoulder, I say, “Be naked by the time I get in there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fuck. Me. This is going to be one hell of a reunion.