Chapter 30
THIRTY
Aurora
“We don’t really need to dance,” I say. “But it’s an excuse to touch you in public and for you to touch me.”
He chuckles, circling his large, heavy hands around my waist. “How very devious of you.”
I laugh, and I notice him watching me as if I fascinate him. Instead of making me self-conscious, I just feel lucky that I get this man’s undivided attention, and my heart lifts as if joy and contentment are their own brand of helium.
“Devious.” I laugh again. “Can you imagine?”
He shakes his head and we start to sway to the music. Everyone else is dancing to the beat, but we’re here in our own separate bubble, and the New York City skyline is lit up like it was on our first date.
It’s perfect.
And I want it to last forever.
“I think you’re about the least devious person I know,” he says. “But I like that you save that tiny part of you for me.”
I smile at him and think of how much of me he gets that no one else does.
How much he sees parts of me that no one else does.
I smooth my hand up his chest in a way that’s now familiar.
It feels like he’s mine. No one else gets to do this.
No one else gets to stand in a New York City ballroom held by the most handsome man in the city.
“How do you know Ryder?” I ask.
“We’ve crossed paths a few times over the years. He was involved in the Anglo-American trade board for a while. That’s where I first met him. I admire his business acumen. He’s a straight shooter.” His eyes dim as he talks. “He’s protective of you.”
I frown. “Really?”
“Very,” he says.
“We’ve known each other a long time. He’s like a brother to me.”
He doesn’t respond. He glances over his shoulder and then back at my face. “Why didn’t you tell me about your promotion?”
A heaviness gathers in my chest. That’s a complicated question. “I suppose I haven’t had a chance to consider it yet.”
“What’s the job?” he asks.
I’m not going to lie to the man. He knows now, I might as well come clean. “Avril and Poppy want me to be the general manager of Hotel on Ninth Street.”
I watch carefully, but Deacon has absolutely no reaction on his face at all.
“They’re going to be busy with the new Boston project and would like me to be responsible for the running of the New York hotel,” I continue.
“Are you going to take it?” he asks. “You don’t sound overenthusiastic.”
“I have no idea,” I say. “My plan was always to go back home. New York was meant to be a three-month adventure.”
He glances away. What’s he thinking?
“Do you want me to stay?” I whisper.
We stop swaying and the room seems to fall silent. All I can do is focus on Deacon’s expression. He doesn’t look excited or hopeful.
He looks pained.
I’d like to think I’ve got a good grip on reality most of the time, but tonight, a part of me wishes he’d say yes, that he wants me to stay in New York.
Even though we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks, even though the last thing he wants to do is disrupt his daughter’s life any more than it is already.
Even though I know it’s impossible for him to have all the feelings for me that I have for him, I still want him to pull me close and urge me to take the promotion and stay in New York.
“It’s complicated,” he finally says.
I look away so he can’t see my disappointment. “You’re right. It is.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.
I frown. “I know. You’d never try and hurt me.”
He sighs, and this time he pulls me close. I lay my head on his chest. “I wish I could freeze time and stay here forever,” he says. “But the world keeps turning and we’re forced to make decisions, take steps that lead us down one path or another.”
“Right,” I whisper. I’m not quite sure what he’s thinking, but by his tone, it’s not anything positive about where he sees our future going.
“You know I have to put Willow’s happiness before my own. Before anything.”
I nod my head against his chest, but I can’t answer. It feels like he’s breaking up with me. It’s not until right now that I realize not being with Deacon might devastate me.
I can’t speak.
If I talk, I might break into a million pieces.
“I just…” He stumbles with what to say. But there’s nothing to say. There’s no point in saying anything at all.
“Shhh,” I say. “Just hold me.”
He sighs. “We have to discuss this. I don’t want to be the kind of man you look back on as the guy who avoided things. Let’s really talk about this.”
I lift my head from his chest and gaze up at him.
“Not here. Not now. This is Ryder’s night.
These people are like family to me. I don’t want to do this now.
I don’t want the man I’ve felt more for, more than I’ve ever felt for anyone, to break up with me on Ryder’s fortieth birthday,” I say, my voice tinged with regret and sadness.
Deacon pulls me closer. “I know it’s only been weeks, but I want you to know I’ve never felt for any woman the way I feel for you.”
Something in my stomach starts to desiccate and wither.
I think it would be better if he hadn’t just said that.
I want to be the breezy summer fling that New York was meant to bring.
If we have real, deep feelings for each other, then me going back to Chilternshire to continue my orbit of other people’s lives seems appalling.
Like I would leave behind in New York something I’ve wanted all my life—a family.
Except I’m never going to be able to offer any man a family. And Deacon can’t offer me anything because he wants life to stay exactly as it is. It’s an impossible situation.
“It’s not enough, though,” I say. “Is it?” I want desperately for him to tell me that there’s more hope than I think there is.
I want him to ask me to stay and tell me we can make it work.
That he can create small cracks in his world that would let me in.
That he wouldn’t have to neglect Willow’s needs or put her second to be with me.
That we could create a life together that would honor what Willow needs alongside being together.
But I know Deacon better than that. Since Willow was born, he’s been determined to right the wrongs of his own upbringing. Even though he can’t rewind time and change what happened, that’s what he’s trying to do. It’s futile, but he’ll die trying.
If I continue to want him, I’m going to continue to be disappointed because he can never give himself to me.
And I’m not going to keep repeating my past mistakes.
I’ve spent too much of my life waiting for men who were never going to give me what I want, or for life to come and grab me when I needed to go out and live it.
No more.
Now I need to make decisions based on what I want. On what I need. My life isn’t going to be about finding a husband to have a family with or waiting for a man to love me. I need to go out and find my own happiness.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I really don’t know what’s enough.”
But I know.
I know he won’t choose me over long-held beliefs that he has to change history before he can live fully.
And I won’t wait for him to pick me when I know he never will.
I’m going to enjoy this last dance. I’m going to savor every last minute of this summer romance, and then I’m going to pick me. I’m going to choose to live life and not wait for it to happen.
“Look at me,” he says.
I glance up, and he looks at me with such intensity, it’s like my entire body merges with his.
“Don’t count me out,” he says. “We’re going to find a way through. I just need time to…to figure it out.”
I allow myself a half smile, a glimmer of hope that he might be right, and that there’s a way to change the habits of a lifetime, a way to shift and see things in a new way when you’ve spent your entire life looking through a different lens.
It’s only the smallest chink of light, but I’m going to hold on to it. For now.