“It’s hard for me,” I say, beginning a conversation that should have happened before now. Before it was too late for my battered heart. “It’s hard for me to trust this. To trust the things I feel. My heart has betrayed me before.”
In the worst way possible, it convinced me what I had with Pierre at the beginning was true. That it was love. He told me it was us against the world and I thought he was being romantic. Not that he meant to isolate me from as much of life as possible. How fucking stupid was I?
“It’s hard for me, too,” he says. “After what Brenda did, trust doesn’t come easy. I’ve forgiven her for that, and myself for any role I may have played in pushing her toward that. Besides my parents, she was who I trusted most with my daughter, with my heart. It’s a hard lesson to learn and a harder one to get past.”
“I’m not her Grady,” I say. “I’d never do that to you. Or Paige.”
“And I’m not him,” he says, nuzzling the crook of my neck. “Things we both know and also don’t.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” I say.
Trust in another person is a leap of faith. Always. The question isn’t, can we trust again; it’s, will we allow ourselves to chance getting hurt again. Honestly, that may be easier for me to get past than him. He has a daughter to think about, a family. I only have myself.
“We’ve got time to figure it all out,” he says, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just under my ear.
We’ve got time…we do, I try to convince myself while I push out the doubt that creeps in. My habit of second-guessing. Or is it my conditioning? Some of both, perhaps. There’s time for that, too. It may never leave, completely, and maybe that’s a good thing. I should hold on to some of my wariness of others, in order to not fall for it again. The worst traits I learned from my time with Pierre will fade, though. They already have so much.
“You spend a lot of time in that pretty head of yours. You grow quiet, and I know you’re reliving things I wish you’d never had to experience in the first place. I’ll say it again. I’ll say it as often as you need, for as long as you need. I’ll be your safety. I’ll be there if you need me.”
“What if I want to save myself?”
“You already have,” he says, turning my head with a gentle palm to look at him. “You already have, Lou.”
“I have, haven’t I?”
“You have,” he says, pressing another kiss atop the last one. “We’ve spent time on the past, but not much on the future. What are your dreams? What do you see for yourself when you close your eyes at night?”
“A quieter life,” I say. “No more big city living, no more jet setting, no more working until I’m fatigued. I’ve conquered my dreams with my career, and now, I want to be selective with it. Curate the jobs I take. Maybe take up photography to keep myself busy in between.”
“No more big city living?” He rises up to his elbow to stare down at me. The same hope in my eyes is reflected in his.
“No.” I shake my head. “In fact, I’ve inquired about buying land here in Stowaway.”
“You did? When?”
“My second night in New York,” I say, my lips trying to twitch into a smile at the excitement he tries to hide. “I was bored in my hotel room, couldn’t sleep. I browsed real estate around here and found the perfect piece of land.”
“Where is it?”
Raising my arm from my side, I point to the thirteen acres of vacant land on the other side of Irma’s house. The forest of sea-lined trees that I’ve stared into for months, now, the forest I’ve wandered while pondering my life choices. The forest that has felt like a shield at my back.
“Old man Riley’s property?” His eyes widen with surprise.
“Who is Riley?”
“An ancient thing that never dies,” he tells me, and I suppress my laughter. “He was called old when I was born. He’s got to be damn near a hundred and ten. He’s had offers, I’ve heard, he’s always refused.”
“He didn’t refuse mine.”
“No?”
“No. There’s still time for him to, I suppose. But I have no reason to believe he will.” I offered full price, pending a feasibility study. Which my realtor seems to think will go fine. I’m paying her plenty to figure it all out for me, anyway. “As long as it’s buildable land, it should be mine in a month or so.”
“It’s buildable,” he reassures me.
“Then, I hope to build. Probably not until the spring. I hear it’s not easy building in the rainy season.”
“No, but we make do.” His smile is now wide, hopeful and happy.
