I glare at him before my eyes dip away. “It’s nothing. Just a passing thought more than anything else.”
“Tell me.”
I sniff. “There’s no need to get growly with me.” He does growl then, reaching out to tickle my sides, and I jerk away, my chair scraping loudly against the tiled floors. “Okay, okay, okay! No torturing.” He’s sitting there, poised for another attack, so I blow out a breath. “There’s this building on the main street of town. It’s been empty for over six months, and I’ve walked past it more than once and just thought…”
I moisten my lips, terrified he’s going to tell me the idea is stupid or something. Grafton is a CEO. He’s experienced and successful, and if my idea is terrible, I know he’ll have no issue telling me so.
“I thought that it would be really cool to open up, like…a local boutique. A shop that exhibits and sells local artists’ work—paintings, sculptures, photos, clothing.” I shrug, tension thrumming down my spine. “Anything, really. I thought the shop could work either on a commission rate for each item sold or on rented space. But I could also create a website and sell online, too, and it would give artists a new market, you know? And maybe give some of them a way to sell their stuff when they might not have been able to before.” I’m rambling because his expression is unchanging, his eyes fixed on me. “I’m thinking I could even focus on specific artists… Maybe stay-at-home mothers who have no other source of income.”
I fall quiet, and it feels like eternity passes before he says, “I like that. What would you call it?” My cheeks warm at the fact that he already knows I’ve named it. “Tell me, darling,” he coaxes, lowering his voice as he leans toward me. “What’s it called?”
“The Sterling Thread,” I blurt. “If it’s terrible—the nameorthe idea—don’t tell me.” I close my eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face, but he doesn’t say anything. Still, I keep my eyes glued shut until I feel his palms cupping my face, one thumb trailing over my bottom lip.
“Lynne, darling,” he says. “Open your eyes.”
“Nuh-uh.” I shake my head as much as I can in his hold, and he huffs out a laugh.
“Come on, darling. Need to see your pretty eyes,” he says softly. “Need you to look me in the face when I tell you this and know that I mean every damn word because I already told you, darling. I don’t plan on ever lying to you.”
My heart feels like it’s beating a mile a minute, but Ieventually drag my eyes open, finding him pressed in close, his nose almost touching mine.
“There you are, baby,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “You listening?”
I push my lip out. “I suppose.”
“It’ll do.” He waits another second because he’s apparently into that slow kind of torture. “I fucking love that idea.”
I blink as my eyes fill without my permission, making my vision watery. Relief steals the oxygen straight from my lungs, and even though not a single part of me doubts him, I ask in a whisper, “You do?”
“I do. And I want to help you make it happen.”
My lips are trembling, and I roll them between my teeth, trying to get a hold of my wayward emotions. “I’m not…” I shake my head in his hold. “It’s just an idea. A fantasy.”
His smile widens. “Not anymore.”
“I would have to finish my degree,” I protest weakly. “And the building… It’ll probably be gone by the time I’m ready.”
“These are nonissues,” he counters evenly. “And the thing is…” His expression is serious. “Lynley, I want to give you and the kids everything you ever dreamed of. I don’t want you to put your life on hold any longer, and if I have the ability to give you those dreams? I’m going to do everything in my power to make them happen.”
I let out a shaky breath just as his thumb lifts and catches a tear escaping my eye. “You can’t be real,” I whisper. “This can’t be real life.”
He drops a hard kiss on my lips and then pulls away, his hands dropping to tangle with mine. “I’m not ever going to pretend your past didn’t happen, Lynne. Christopher hasbeen a big part of your experience and of who you are today. I don’t discount that, but I’m also not going to let those experiences color our relationship going forward. Understand?”
My eyes search his. “I think so. But sometimes, the speed of it all, and the intensity… Sometimes, it scares me.”
“Me too,” he confesses quietly. “But I’m not letting that fear stop me from taking hold of our future.”
Chapter 26
Lynley
It is going to take me a long time to come to terms with the life my kids and myself fall into, especially when I’m faced with what a happy family is supposed to look like.
It’s in the little details—something as simple as sitting around the table and having a family dinner. Ginny is shouting to be heard, even though everyone else is talking reasonably, and Mase is eagerly telling Grafton about the new skill he learned at baseball practice.
We had family dinners before, but more often than not, it was just the kids and me. When Christopher did bother to show up, he was a silent presence that loomed over us, sucking the very light out of the room.
I don’t think I ever realized how suffocated I felt in that marriage until I was out of it, feeling like I was able to breathe for the first time in years.
