“I might just…get some work done,” I said, taking a cautious sip of the coffee, even though I knew it wasn’t hot.
“You’re going to work?” Sully repeated. “On a Saturday?”
I shrugged. Work sounded nice. It was better than doing something I usually enjoyed and realizing that I didn’t like it as much as I remembered, and then wondering how long that feeling would last.
“Or work on theMillennium Falcon, maybe,” I said.
I didn’t mind the idea of sitting on the living room floor some more, putting together more pieces of plastic so I could feel somewhat accomplished every time I found the correct place for one.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” I murmured and then stared at the black liquid in my mug, the tiny bubbles forming init along the outer edges. “You can go home, Sawyer. It’s been two weeks.”
Silence followed in the wake of my comment, and when I couldn’t bear it anymore, I glanced away from my cooling coffee to peek at Sully.
He was staring at me, a muscle ticking in his jawline.
“Unless you explicitly tell me you don’t want me here, I intend to stay, Eleanor.”
Something cracked in my chest, and it felt an awful lot like relief. Because the truth was, I didn’twanthim to leave. Even though the atmosphere that surrounded us was somber, a touch melancholic, confusing, stilted…despite all of that, his presence was the balm I needed. It was what was holding me together.Hewas holding me together, whether he knew it or not.
After years of clinging to fear, of facing the idea of pregnancy with the utmost trepidation, I honestly never expected to feel this way after experiencing a pregnancy loss. Perhaps this was terrible to even think, perhaps this was the reason that my new reality had been ripped away from me, perhaps to some extent I’ddeservedwhat had happened, but…at some point in my life, I would have assumed if I were ever in the shoes I was today, that I’d feel some level ofreprieve. Reprieve from fears, from needles, from agonizing over whether I’d made the right choice.
Now, the choices were gone.
Just like that.
And the only uphill battle I faced was navigating my way through a sea of emotions—a sea that didn’t include the swell of relief I might have thought it would. Not at all.
No, I was gutted in a way I never would have expected.
And even though IknewI wasn’t at fault, especially given what my doctor had told me, I still struggled to shake the feeling of guilt. I woke every morning gutted and confused.
But Sullivan London would always be my rock, my steadiness in an ocean full of storms. And I hadn’t realized just howunmoored I’d felt for the last few years until I came home, anchored myself in his harbors again.
Now I needed to make sure we could get through this without dragging us both down to the bottom, to new kinds of depths.
“I want you here,” I whispered, and Sully took an audible breath. “But only if it’s where you want to be, too.”
“It’s where I want to be,” he said without hesitation. Then his voice softened. “In fact, I have a lot of plans for you and this house, Eleanor.”
I lifted a brow as I looked at him. An unbidden smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You do?”
“Yes.” He said it so matter-of-factly, soseriously, that my lips continued to stretch. “And if you think I could tug you away from your Saturday work, I’d love to get your opinion on some paint samples.”
My brows inched higher. “Paint samples?”
He nodded and then turned to gesture around the kitchen. “When my mother was here the other day, she pointed out that the house could use some, um, freshening up.”
I blinked at him, surprised. No,shocked. “Anne London said that.”
Sully was still looking around the kitchen, as though assessing it. “She sure did.”
I wondered if perhaps Anne had decided to give her son a project, something he could focus his energy on—a similar strategy to me. But then Sully added, “She said she’s only kept the house the way it is because it has unfinished business.”
“What does—” My words stuck in my throat as soon as he turned to look at me, his blue eyes looking greener today, likely a reflection of the wall color. Which was, admittedly, looking a little worse for wear.
Sully’s gaze bored into mine, communicating words he didn’t seem quite ready to say aloud.
But he did say, “I think this house deserves a fresh start. What do you think?”
