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He’d been so out of character this morning. Something was going on.
But Fernsby merely strode across the room and squished his tall frame into an armchair. Then he pointed to the other chair on the opposite side of the table, where she liked to read.
She had no option but to sit.
And Fernsby began. “Once upon a time…” He paused for effect.
Cammie stared, wide-eyed.
“There was a woman.” He gazed at her with unblinking gray eyes. “I made a mess of it.”
Oh yes, this was totally out of character. His sudden soul-baring made her twitch. “I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.
He looked at her, his silvery eyes silencing her. He would say what he had to say no matter what she did. “I have never spent a day when I didn’t regret losing her.” He held his hand up, almost as if he were examining his fingernails. The hand where a gold band might have rested. “If I could change that, I would in a heartbeat.” That couldn’t be a smile twitching on his lips. No, not Fernsby, despite his display in the library. “I know you don’t believe I actually have a heart.”
She had to refute that. “Of course you have a heart. You absolutely adore Rex. And I think you love Dane too.”
If Fernsby was capable of an eye roll, which she didn’t believe, the expression in his eyes could have been just that. “I don’t like dogs. I don’t even like people.” He waited a beat of the heart he claimed he didn’t have. “But I will admit to having a soft spot for that.” He pointed at the bed where Rex lay, giving him the evil eye. “And I have a soft spot for Mr. Harrington.”
Good Lord. Fernsby admitting to a soft spot? Unheard of. She knew it existed, just as she knew his heart existed, but to have him say it aloud?
“As I was saying.” He looked at her, his gaze adding the words before I was so rudely interrupted. “If I could go back in time and change things…” He didn’t finish the sentence. “But I can’t. I had so many reasons it wouldn’t work. She had so many reasons it wouldn’t work. By the time you get to my age, you realize all those reasons are poppycock.”
Cammie wondered how old he really was.
“The truth is that we were just afraid to fail at love. And now I see you doing the same thing to yourself.” He gave her another stern look. “Please don’t make my mistakes. We both know the truth about where you belong.” His pause closed around her heart. “And who you belong with.”
She didn’t know what to say. Was there really anything to say? Fernsby had actually been in love. Once upon a time. It was almost unfathomable. Even more unfathomable was that he’d told her about it. She felt like Alice in Wonderland. Was Fernsby the Cheshire Cat? Or the Mad Hatter?
“Fernsby,” she said, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible and not sure she accomplished it, “I’m afraid you might be misreading things.”
He raised one long finger and wagged it at her. “You and I both know the truth. I realize you wish to deny it. Just like I wanted to deny the truth all those years ago. But while you’re gone, I want you to think about everything I’ve said.” His hard gray gaze made her shudder.
She wanted to tell him that she knew exactly what she wanted. She just wasn’t sure Dane wanted the same thing, even after they’d made love. Because that wasn’t the same as being in love. And what if Dane could never admit it? She couldn’t discuss any of that with Fernsby. She certainly couldn’t admit they’d made love last night. That was beyond the pale, even after Fernsby’s uncharacteristic confession.
Fernsby stood then to tower over her. He intoned like a judge on the bench, “I have faith in you. You will know what to do when you come back.”
Then he rolled her suitcase out of the bedroom.
What if he was right? What if she was just afraid to fail at love?
* * *
A car waited in the driveway, ready to take her to the airport. Fernsby had already laid her case in the trunk.
There was nothing to do but walk away. And yet, she couldn’t. She and Dane had left so much unsaid.
Cammie turned to find him right there, so close she could breathe him in. He gazed at her with his heart in his eyes. At least, she wanted to believe that.
He cupped her face in his big hands. “I know you can do this,” he whispered. “I believe in you with every fiber of my being.”
Then he kissed her—the sweetest, most beautiful, most heartfelt kiss she’d ever known. It wasn’t dueling tongues and passionate lips. In its simplicity, it was so much more. It was the splendor of what they’d done last night and the tenderness of his arms around her as her uncle lay dying. It was the thoughtfulness with which he bought her flowers when her heart was crushed and the sensitivity when he eased her pain by bringing her the cutest puppy ever. It was the purity of friendship.
