Page 23 of Complete Me

I wanted to ask him what he meant by that. Had she been crying? Was she still angry? Depressed? I kept the questions to myself. In truth, I thought of Norris as the father I’d chosen rather than the one of my blood. While he knew more about my personal life than most parents might choose, I felt far too possessive of my wife at the moment to share even my thoughts with him.

“I’m not in the mood to discuss my marriage,” I warned him.

“That’s fine.” He shifted in his seat but he didn’t rise. “I’ll talk. You listen. No discussion.”

I might be the King of England but I knew there was no point to refusing him.

“You and Clara have weathered some trying storms since you’ve met. Often the trouble came from those around you,” he began.

It was like a father to overlook my poor behavior when I first met Clara. Norris seemed to sense what I was thinking as he continued.

“You acted in her own interest. I’ve watched you reject your birthright since you were a child. I know that you wanted to protect her from this life and that you were willing to give her up despite your love for her if it meant giving her the freedom you’ve never had.”

My mouth grew dry and I struggled to maintain my calm. I had tried to give her up. It was what was best for her then, and as Norris spoke, I knew it was what was best for her now. The reality of that realization didn’t make it any easier to consider.

“But you can’t give her up,” he said gently. “Nor can she give you up. You are bound to Clara by more than just a marriage vow. Your souls are bound to one another. Still the two of you fight for control.”

“I only want what is best for her,” I interjected. How could he accuse me of being power hungry when he knew my true intentions? Norris understood the dangers associated with being a member of this family better than anyone.

“And she you,” he said. “But you must learn to give yourself to her.”

“I’ve given myself to her completely.” A dangerous anger rippled through me at his insinuation. He should know me better than this, and if he didn’t and she didn’t, who ever would?

“Have you?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I’ve given up everything to protect her,” I roared. “My freedom. My choices. She is the only thing I care about. Her safety—her life—is my number one concern.”

“That is not giving yourself to her. That is giving yourself for her,” he corrected me. “A man must open his heart to the woman he loves. He must bare his soul—his scars and his fears.”

“Why?” I asked in a defeated voice. “Why must she bear my mistakes? My sins? My burdens?”

“Because she vowed to share your life—your whole life.”

“I want her to be happy.”

“You make her happy, Alexander.” He leaned forward, shaking his head as if annoyed to have to point out something so obvious. “Your troubles cannot take that from her.”

“I haven’t told her about my other brother,” I admitted. “Without knowing more about why he was kept a secret, I don’t want to worry her.”

“Why do you think it will scare her?” he asked.

“I’m not certain.” I searched for a reason for my own fears but I couldn’t find it.

“Has she asked you to protect her from worry?”

I shook my head. “She hates it when I keep what’s bothering me to myself.”

“A wife takes joy in sharing her husband’s troubles. She chose her place at your side, and you chose a place at her side. When secrets creep into a marriage, they push you apart and leave space for lies and distrust.”

“I don’t lie to her.” But hadn’t I? I’d kept secrets from her before and Norris was right, it had created distrust between the two of us. I’d worked hard to open myself to her, but here I was still protecting her from myself, even when she begged me not to.

“A secret is a lie to everyone but the one who keeps it,” Norris advised. “If I may, have you ever considered that you keep these things from her so that you can ignore your own fears? If you share what scares you, you can no longer control the reality of it.”

“I don’t know how to tell her,” I confessed. I didn’t know what any of it meant. I had no idea what the repercussions of pursuing my father’s past would be.

“Start at the beginning.” Norris stood and straightened his jacket. He took a step toward the door but thought better of it. Pausing, he turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You married a strong woman with a fierce heart. Believe in her as she has believed in you.”

Reaching up I clasped his hand in a show of solidarity. Our eyes met and I nodded before releasing my grip. Norris looked to the painting of my father and sighed.