But his story to her at such a young age was a preemptive strike if not predictive, and her heart didn’t listen. Meggie describes her love, her devotion to Ralph was like crying for the moon. Because it’s impossible to capture, impossible to keep.
Meggie could never have Ralph in the way she wanted, and he could never give up his life’s purpose for her. Therefore, Ralph was also Meggie’s thorn, and she spent her life searching for the time to impale herself upon him just for the chance to sing. And then it happens, they have that sinful and secular moment where the world stops, times ceases, and love wins.
I always stop reading when they’re together, because I know the ending, and I’m happiest in the midst of their song. I savor it.
Partly through the novel, I stand and walk on the soft green carpet beneath my feet, admiring nature’s handiwork. Endless rows of rose bushes line the center of the garden, and I stop every few steps to run my fingers along the delicate petals and breathe them in. It’s like a dream, the breeze, the smells, the pink haze of early morning, and I’m fully intoxicated. For a moment, I pity Roman. I’m positive he’s never spent a minute out here simply enjoying his life. He could, at any time, make a decision to enjoy the fruits of his labor, to appreciate the palace he haunts, but lives his life too engrossed in harsh reality. Numbers and power rule him. And I’m convinced his is a miserable existence.
I don’t want that for myself. Not ever.
And one day, I’ll need to forgive him. I’ll have to forgive him, for myself. But this morning, the pain is starting to gnaw at me, and I can still feel the humiliation, the arrow precision sting of his rejection—the unexpected balm to my pierced heart sleeping in the bedroom above me.
The last twenty-four hours with Tobias have been surreal, and I’m way too terrified to trust a single memory. I run a finger over my lips thinking of the way he kissed me, held me, like I was precious, like my every thought mattered. Palming my face, I try to push those thoughts away, and I can’t help but recall our conversation.
“Dream a thousand dreams.”
In the last year, I’ve learned a different way to live, and I don’t think I’ve ever embraced it the way I can now.
With my epiphany yesterday, I know my future consists of big moves and big decisions. I want the experience of it all. Otherwise, what’s the point?
A peace washes over me as I remember the future I’d mapped for myself in that boardroom. A decision to live, in the now, even knowing what I know. Risk and reward. No regrets. I’ve decided on my part to play.
I’m strolling along the hedges admiring the walls of honeysuckle draping them when I sense him. I look up to find him standing in the corner of the courtyard, staring at me.
“Hi.”
He stands silent. His undershirt wrinkled, the material clinging to him like a second skin stretching over his chest, outlining his powerful frame when he stretches. Black boxers accentuate his insanely cut, muscular thighs. He’s completely disheveled. A far cry from the stylish terrorist I’ve come to expect darkening my door. And as messy as he looks, he’s more agonizing to gaze upon. We’d stolen a moment last night. A moment to be selfish, to give in to what we both wanted, and it wasn’t purely physical. It was a long drink for two thirsty people. And we’d savored every drop, but we’re skirting disaster now. Still, I can feel it, the gravity, the ache, the need building for him, and he’s only feet away.
I run my hands along more of the delicate blooms. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
More silence, and it’s unbearable. My heart gallops as the air around me stills. Tension coiling, I can feel his gaze on me, my neck pebbling with the weight of it. I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. Because if I do, he’ll know.
“Hard to believe such a bad guy owns such an extraordinary place.” I can hear the sadness in my voice. I was honest with Tobias that night he questioned me. In my time here, I’ve experienced a slow snap. From the time my dad confessed he couldn’t love me to the time we spent yesterday in his boardroom, it’s felt like one drawn-out and agonizing blow. Though it’s been hard to admit it, I came here with a hope that’s now obliterated. My father and I are beyond repair.
Roman’s rejection has made me a very sad and lonely little girl, and I’d been acting like one, dragging my battered heart around and begging someone, anyone, to tell me it is worth something.
“You were right, you know,” I say, running my fingers over the blossoming wall of honeysuckle again. “I’ve been a sad, lonely little girl for a long time.”