Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Danny
Her whispered words clang through my chest—my chest that was full to the brim two minutes ago and is suddenly completely empty.
I move off of her quickly. She shimmies off the other side of the bed, immediately going for my drawers to pull one of my shirts over her head.
The gesture cuts deep: her wearing my shirts is usually a symbol of how close we are.
Now she’s wielding my shirt to hide away from me.
I dumbly yank on my boxer briefs and a shirt, as well.
We stand on opposite sides of my bed, stuck, hair still dripping wet.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again. The misery slashing her features, dulling her eyes, is ripping me down my center.
“What are you sorry for, sweetheart?”
She numbly shakes her head.
“You have to say it, Christina. I have to hear you say it.”
Tears just slide down her twisted face. I can’t let them go untouched. I can’t.
I clamber over the expanse of the bed and cup her face before I can even unfold my legs to stand. I exhale in relief when I catch those first tears with my thumbs. She grasps both my wrists and cries harder.
I kiss as many tears as I can. “Please talk to me,” I whisper into her skin. “Please, baby. I love you so much.”
She sobs, eyes screwed shut. “I love you too. I love you too much.”
Her words are heaven and hell wrapped in one.
Christina loves me. She discovered that truth for herself, and she offered the gift of telling me freely, because she wanted to, maybe even because she needed to.
God knows what torture it’s been for me to keep my feelings unsaid these past weeks.
Hearing those words from her definitively ranks as the most profound moment of my life.
And yet the anguish in her voice now—the deep grief and pain there—threatens to claw me to shreds.
“What do you mean ‘too much’?” I ask, slipping my fingers around her nape so she can look up at me.
She doesn’t respond. Her chest is heaving, and fresh tears are poised to spring out. She just looks at me, unable to speak.
I swallow. “Does it feel right to move in with me?”
Her lip quivers.
“Does it feel right to be my business partner?”
Her fingernails dig into my wrists.
“Does it feel right to live this life together?”
A little whimper escapes her.
Fuck, what have I done? I know how much this next step has weighed on her.
Whatever she chooses, she’ll be losing parts of the family she’s been able to cobble together in spite of the piece-of-shit hand she was dealt from birth.
I know how much space she needs to listen to herself and trust herself and discover where she belongs.
But I’m trying to listen to my inner voice too. I feel nothing but present and happy and myself with her, and it all exploded tenfold when she said she loves me. I managed to keep the lid on my “I love you” before, but now that I know she loves me too, I can’t keep what I want inside.
I asked for too much all at once. And now she’s paralyzed.
I sit on the edge of the bed and pull her onto my lap. She sinks into a straddle around my hips and throws her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I hold her as close to me as possible, my hands splayed on her back. “I’m the one who’s sorry, okay? You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She shudders against my shoulder. “But you’re right,” she whispers. “It does feel right. All of it. I want that life with you more than anything.”
Relief sweeps through so swiftly, I feel I might pass out. “Then why are you sorry?”
She pulls back to turn pitiful eyes on me.
“Because I don’t think it even matters what feels right anymore.
What I’ve been through, the loss I’ve experienced …
Danny, I don’t think it’s possible for me to have this.
I don’t think it’s possible for me to truly belong.
I’ll always doubt myself. I’ll always feel trapped on a path.
I’ll always be waiting for the next loss around the corner that destroys my life again. ”
My chest is caving in on itself. “Then we’ll just take things one day at a time, sweetheart, just like we have been.”
She shakes her head. “No. The next steps aren’t one-day-at-a-time steps. Moving into this house isn’t a one-day-at-a-time thing.”
“Then I’ll sell the fucking house,” I all but snarl, and she flinches.
I can feel her slipping away from me, and I’m officially losing it.
“I don’t give a shit about this house if you’re not in it.
I’ll follow you to D.C. or New York or wherever you want to go.
I’ll take life one day at a time with you for as many days as you’ll give me. ”
She gapes at me. “But your life’s work is tied to the South.”
“My life’s work is loving you, Christina.”
She stares at me, dumbfounded.
“Please,” I choke, my voice finally breaking.
I know I’ve crossed over into pathetic, but I will get on my knees and beg if that’s what it takes.
If she didn’t want this—if she didn’t want me—I would walk away with a shattered heart and do my best to survive for the remainder of my existence.
But she does want this. And the fear that her asshole father and family and religion and ex instilled in her cannot be what ruins this perfect, beautiful thing we’ve created.
I’ll never recover. Not only for myself, but for her.
I drop my head into the crook of her neck. “You deserve everything.”
She’s stock still for a long moment. And then she suddenly twists out of my grasp and is on her feet, yanking clothes out of the drawer she keeps here.
“Christina?”
“Get dressed.” Her voice is clipped and determined as she steps into her jeans.
“What?”
“Get dressed and get your cameras. This fucking ends now.”
I stand and follow her to the bathroom, where she shakes out her damp hair. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m getting motherfucking closure, today. We’re going to tell my dad to fuck off.”
My jaw drops. That is not what I was expecting. “Sweetheart, it’s 2:00 AM.”
She flies back out to the bedroom. “That means we’ll get there right as he’s reviewing his Sunday morning sermon.”
I grit my teeth. “Of fucking course, he’s still a pastor. He just moved to a different state, didn’t he?”
She throws my jeans at me. “Yes. It’s a three-hour drive to where he lives in North Carolina now. We’ll get some 5-Hour ENERGY drinks on the way.”
“You really want to do this now?”
Her hazel eyes are like flint. “I don’t know if it will make any difference. But if there’s even the slightest chance that it will, then yeah. I’m confronting this asshole once and for all.”
She’s fighting for us. She’s fighting for herself.
I nod once. “I’ll drive.”