“I know, I just... I don’t know where I stand.”
I kiss the top of her head. “That’s okay. Just don’t do anything until you know. That’s all I ask.”
“But there are so many obstacles that prove we shouldn’t be together.”
“The only obstacle I see is how to get you back home as quickly as possible.”
She chokes up and steps out of my reach.
“I need more time.”
“Okay, take all the time you need. Take a day, two days, a month, a year even. Whenever you’re ready, I will be here. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
“When it’s for the woman I love, it’s more than fair.”
I can see that the waterworks are about to begin again, so I step back.
“You know where to find me.”
“I do.”
I open the door, pausing before I leave. With one last look over my shoulder, I say. “I love you, Calla.”
And I walk out the door. I leave the ball in her court. I’ve done all that I can do, and now I just have to wait and see if she’ll choose me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CALLA
Before I was a teenager, I remember sneaking out of my room once my parents thought I was asleep and sitting at the top of the steps, listening to them reminisce about the day. They’d talk about what happened at work, and then they would talk about me and Simon. They’d share what they each saw us do that day that made them the most proud and mention how lucky they were to have such great children. I remember thinking, “Wow, this is what I want.”
Yeah, I was young, but I knew even back then that I wanted to be a wife and mom. It was a package deal.
A package deal that I dreamed about every single day until that dream was taken from me.
Then I married Beck.
Then I left Beck.
Then I learned that I already had those kinds of moments. The moments where it doesn’t matter what you’re talking about, it just matters who you’re talking with.
Beck is my person. These past couple of weeks have shown me that. I thought getting away from him would help me move on, but it did the opposite. It showed me how much I love him.
It’s just … I can’t seem to let go of the guilt of what being with me means.
“Are you going to open the letter?” Greer asks, pouring me a glass of wine and one for herself. Simon takes the seat next to her and picks it up.
“I can’t believe it’s been here for a whole day, and you haven’t opened it. Beck is probably at home just dying.”
“He’s not dying. Upset, yes, and planning his next move to show up here, I’m sure, but dying? No. He would be fine without me.”
“So that’s your choice?” Greer asks.
“I don’t agree with you, and even if I did, would you be okay without him?” Simon adds his own line of questioning.
Of course not. He’s my person. There will never be another man in my life like Beck.
