Grayson's Vow (80)
I don’t want you. I don’t want you at all.
If you were worth more…
Maybe she’d driven to San Francisco to stay with Kimberly.
“Well, when you’re done feeling all sorry for yourself, dinner will be—” Charlotte’s words ended abruptly and I looked up. She was standing at the closet door, having just hung up the ironed shirts. She turned toward me sharply. “So this is how you see yourself? The villain? Or wait, perhaps the victim. Captain Hook to your brother’s Peter Pan? This is what you’ve come up with?” she asked as she held the costume I’d stopped and rented after being unable to find Kira. There was only one description for the look on her face—utter disappointment.
“What would you have me dress as, Charlotte?” I asked. “A prince? It’s just a stupid party anyway. It means nothing. And I’m no prince.”
“It’s a party your wife is throwing for you out of the kindness in her heart.”
I glowered at her. “My wife is gone. She left me. She’s only coming back for the party and then she’s leaving again—permanently. Just as we’d planned.”
Charlotte looked shocked for a brief moment, but then her knowing eyes roamed over my face as silence settled between us. “But it’s not just as you planned, is it? Nothing is as you planned. And that scares you very, very much.” Charlotte approached me and reached out her hand. I took it and she squeezed mine between both of her own, the comforting scent of her—baked goods and talcum powder—causing my breathing to calm. “Ah, my boy, you’ve fallen very hard, haven’t you?”
“Fallen?” I took my hand from Charlotte’s. “Fallen where?”
“In love of course. With Kira. With your wife.”
I swallowed heavily and turned toward the window. “I’m not in love with Kira,” I insisted, but the words felt flimsy, as if they didn’t hold any weight and might simply float away.
Charlotte sighed. “For the love of all things holy, you’re both so stubborn. You two probably deserve no less than to be shackled to each other for life. It’s a wonder watching you together hasn’t driven me to drink.”
I snorted. I was not in love with the little witch. Was I? No, I couldn’t be—my emotions for her were too turbulent, too out of control, too…terrifying. Maybe I was obsessed with her, enchanted, beguiled. But love? No, not love. “She makes me crazy,” I said, turning back to Charlotte. “When we’re together, we act like out-of-control children half the time.” And the other times like desperate lovers, unable to keep our hands off each other…
“We should all be children when it comes to love—open and vulnerable.” She paused. “I don’t know everything there is to know about Kira’s past, but I know you have good reason to guard your heart. And good reason to want to choose someone who doesn’t inspire such passion, such intensity, and such fear because you learned early that love hurts. I suspect Kira’s been hurt too. And for those such as yourselves, true love is a scary prospect. True love is the greatest leap of faith there is.”
I ran my hand through my hair. This was all too much, and I didn’t even know where to start, what to focus on. I was all twisted up inside, angry with Kira one minute, wanting her desperately the next…needing to push her away two seconds after that.
“I think a good place to start,” Charlotte said as if reading my mind, “is to talk to your brother and Vanessa. And listen to them, not with your hurt but with your heart.” She grasped my hand again. “And bear this in mind: love is not always smooth and easy. Love can be piercing. Love means exposing yourself—all of yourself, every tender part—to being hurt. Because true love is not only the flower; true love is also the thorns.”
I sighed. “Sharp and painful,” I confirmed. Why would anyone seek out love anyway?
Charlotte’s laughed softly. “Sharp, yes, piercing, yes. But not always painful. It’s meant to strip you bare and expose your wounds so they might be healed. Be brave enough not to fight it. Surrender, my boy. Let go. For just once, have the courage to let go.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek, and I bent slightly to let her. Then she smiled warmly and left me where I stood.
Love is not always smooth and easy. Was that why I had chosen Vanessa once upon a time? Because my feelings for her were lukewarm? As soon as I posed the question to myself, I knew in my heart the answer was yes. Shane and I had grown up with Vanessa. She’d always been a friend—beautiful and sweet—and I’d noticed the way Shane had looked at her and the way she’d looked back at him, hoping he’d make a move. Neither one realized the other had feelings for them. But I knew, and I asked Vanessa out anyway, knowing Shane would step back for me. My shoulders dropped. Oh God. Why had I done that?
I’d wanted her because I’d felt perfectly in control of my feelings where she was concerned and that sort of calm, that lack of risk, the absence of thorns, was something I craved after the deep hurt I’d experienced growing up. After the humiliating grasping for love never returned, the loneliness of being unwanted, I didn’t want to grasp anymore. I didn’t care to hope any longer. It hurt far too much. And so I chose someone who didn’t inspire any of that in me. Vanessa had been too sweet to say no. And somewhere inside, I’d felt a certain satisfaction taking something I knew rightfully belonged to Shane. Shame swept through me. I’d given all my life, made sure he never suffered the way I’d had to. I’d thought I deserved to step ahead of him where Vanessa had been concerned. Jesus.