by Mary Campisi
Grace massaged her temples. This was too much to comprehend. “All this time, I didn’t know. I thought you were just… You.”
“I am still me.” His next words singed her soul. “I’ll always be the same guy who fell in love with the sound of an engine and the girl in the cut-offs and tank top.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? Why did you have to lie to me?” So many lies, so many stories that weren’t even real. What was true and what was manufactured for the benefit of the storyline he wanted to push?
“I would have told you, but I promised Frances I wouldn’t. It was a thirty-day deal of nondisclosure, and I planned to keep it. But trust me, on the thirty-first day, I planned to tell you.” Pause. “No matter how things worked out between us.”
She tried to see behind the guarded expression. “There’s so much I don’t know about you. What about your parents? Are they still alive?”
“They died seven years ago. First my mother, then my father. Eight months apart. Guess the only thing they really loved was each other and the bottle.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t ask how they died, but she guessed it had to do with their drinking.
“Frances told me that my parents didn’t have the capacity to take care of a child.” He let out a harsh laugh. “She said they just weren’t equipped.”
“She really was good to you, wasn’t she?”
His voice dipped. “Like a mother.”
“I wish I’d stayed in touch.” It would have been difficult, especially after she’d broken off with him, but maybe if she’d seen how close he and her aunt were, she might have seen Max in a different way.
“Yeah, well…”
“I mean it, Max. I wish I’d stayed in touch.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Why?”
She could give him this piece of truth. “Maybe I would have realized I’d been wrong about you.” Pause, a deep breath. “Maybe we would have gotten a second chance.”
“People don’t just get second chances, Grace. They have to grab them; they have to trust one more time that things will turn out okay, or at least half okay. It’s the fear that holds them back. Fear of failure, fear of success, fear of trusting. Fear of losing.” He stepped toward her, close but not touching. “You’re the only one who can decide how you want to live the rest of your life. There’s a whole second chapter, probably even a third, but you won’t get there if you don’t start.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.” She glanced at the article on top of the container. “I wish I’d believed it earlier.”
His jaw twitched. “We all wish a lot of things could’ve been different, but the truth is, they just are what they are. You either make a move, make a change, take a chance, or you don’t. There is no wishing.”
Did he really believe that? She wanted to know more about him, but he was stingy with the details. “So, you moved in with my aunt after…” She paused, couldn’t quite say, after I dumped you…. He knew exactly what she meant, though.
“Yeah, I moved in after. She was really good to me.”
“I’m glad you were there for each other.”
“I owed her and I wanted to do it.”
She had to sneak in the next question before he shut her down. “Why did you decide to go to college? I thought you were against it?”
“I didn't want to go, but Frances made me see that I needed an education to get where I wanted to go. She’s the one who helped me. But you’re the reason I didn’t quit.” Pause, a sigh. “At least at first.”
“Me? What did I have to do with you staying in college?”
The brackets around his mouth deepened and when he spoke, there was a harshness in his words that made it difficult to remember his gentle side. “Let’s just say I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t the loser you thought I was.” He shot her a look. “It’s been a long day. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He’d made it to the garage door when Grace called his name. “Max?” She’d misjudged him, hurt him, and made him believe he wasn’t good enough for her. But he was…he’d always been… When he turned, she saw the truth. He could have been yours. That smile you’ve seen could have been for you, those words, that touch…They all could have been yours, but you threw them away. You’ll never have them again, but maybe you can hold onto them and pretend…even for a few nights…
“What is it, Grace?”
She moved toward him, clasped his hand. “Stay with me tonight.” Soon enough, their time together would be over, and she’d have to let him go. He had a life on the West Coast and resided in a world of money and power she couldn’t begin to understand. Once he finished his business here, he’d fly back to California. Alone. She would head back to her ordinary life, one with carpools, afternoon snacks, and neighborhood watches. But at least, she’d have memories of what could have been had she trusted her heart all those years ago. Grace touched his cheek, said in a soft voice, “Please?”
* * *
Snow covered the streets of Magdalena, clung to the trees and rooftops, a picture-perfect setting for the upcoming holidays. Inside the house on Bayberry Street, Max lay next to the only woman he’d ever loved, her naked body snuggled against him, the softness of her breath fanning his chest. They were meant to be together, now and always, and tomorrow, on day thirty-one, he would ask her to marry him. Of course, it wouldn’t be as easy as a proposal, not with two children and different states involved. But Grace was worth it; they were worth it.
They’d finished the last item on the list tonight; sit in the dark and talk for twenty minutes. Okay, so they hadn’t been sitting, and he was pretty sure Frances and Pop hadn’t meant talk in the dark naked when they’d written up the list, but…
Max held her closer, thought of all the places he wanted to take her and the girls, the things he wanted to show them. Had they ever been on a boat? How about a cruise? Grace had said she’d always wanted to visit Alaska. He could take her and the girls there. Why not? They could see the glaciers and Denali National Park. Or they could head to the Grand Canyon, or dip their toes in the Pacific Ocean... They could do it all.
He didn’t know much about kids, but he could learn. Hell, he wanted to learn.
All Grace had to do was say yes.
They’d shared a bed since the night he’d found her in the garage, rummaging through his stuff. It was also the night she’d learned he owned a company and a whole string of assets. For a second, he’d almost asked if her invitation to bed had to do with what she’d found in the box, but he’d held back. Later, he would wonder why he didn’t press for an answer, but deep down, he knew the truth; he didn’t want to know. He wanted to take whatever she was offering, for as long as she was offering it.
How sad was that?
Tonight was their last official night together, but when the sun came up tomorrow morning, he’d fix Grace breakfast in bed and they’d talk about their future—together.
At last.
Max let out a low sigh, pulled her closer and fell asleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough and with it, a new day to dream…and plan… Life was damn good, and it was about to get better. But when he woke the next morning to an empty bed and a note that started with I hate goodbyes, he knew the time to dream and plan was gone.
* * *
Dear Max:
I hate goodbyes. I’ve never been good at them, but I can’t avoid this goodbye. These last weeks have been magical, and will always be as much a part of me as breathing.
You’re a wonderful person, with a kind heart and a sense of honor and duty that’s rare among the men I’ve known. Aunt Frances was lucky to have you in her life. Any woman would be lucky to have you in her life.
And that’s why I have to let you go.
Living in this house with you has not been real life, but a fantasy. I have two children, an opinionated mother, a lawn that’s in perpetual need of mowing, raking, etc.…. If you thought my addiction to planning and lists was bad befo
re, you have no idea what it looks like now. Of course, I understand it’s my attempt to control things—like outcomes and other people’s actions
I know I can do better than substitute teaching, and I love tutoring, but will that pay the bills? You come from a different world, where one hundred dollars is no different than one dollar, but in my world, every penny counts. I take responsibility for my situation. I trusted a husband who had no integrity, and I ignored the warnings telling me he wasn’t doing right by us because I didn’t want to see the truth.
But I won’t do that again, not with you.
You deserve to be happy, and I want that for you, whether that means a wife and children, or expanding your company—maybe both. I can’t ask you to be a part of my life any more than you can ask me to be a part of yours. They’re just too different. Can you really picture yourself sitting in a school auditorium watching an eight-year old’s Christmas program? Or explaining why their dog had to go to heaven? I don’t think so. But then, I can’t imagine chatting with a CEO about golf and trips to Australia.
Don’t you see? We can’t live in a bubble, like the one here on Bayberry Street, and when life goes wrong, there won’t be a Pop Benito to set us on the right track. If I could change anything, it would be to choose you all those years ago. But I can’t. It’s too late for that, and these past weeks have shown me why. I don’t know what you planned for day thirty-one, but I couldn’t risk saying all of this in person. If you thought we had a future, I would have wanted to believe you. I would have looked into those blue eyes and wanted to follow you anywhere. And maybe I would have, but what then?
I’m not so foolish to ignore the other possibility. What if you didn’t want a future with me? What if you’re sighing your relief as you read this letter because you don’t have to face me and tell me goodbye? Face it—a thirty-nine-year-old, underemployed mother of two with trust issues can’t compete with the Leannes of the world.
Please know these days with you will live in my heart as wondrous and magical. I hope you find the happiness you deserve.
* * *
Always,
Grace
* * *
One month later
* * *
Max studied the spreadsheets on his desk, tried to make sense of them. He’d been through them twice, but he couldn’t focus. Damn. He was tired and agitated, but he had to stay busy so he didn’t think about what happened in Magdalena. The plane ride back to Los Angeles had given him time to consider everything, and the truth was, maybe he and Grace were never meant to be together. Hadn’t her letter said it all? They lived in different worlds, and what they’d shared for thirty days might be memorable, but it wasn’t real. Or, it wasn’t sustainable, because you couldn’t insulate yourself from real life forever. Yeah, that was true.
But what if two lives could intersect? What if the couple shared the same values and beliefs? Wasn’t that more important that social status? He dragged a hand over his face, considered the possibility. He’d been hours away from asking her to spend the rest of her life with him, because he believed in her, believed in them, but Grace had taken his choice away. Again. She’d decided all by herself, and then she’d informed him of a decision that affected both of them.
What the hell gave her the right to do that? He’d deserved a face-to-face, regardless of why she wanted to avoid one. But no, she’d stripped him of that choice, too. Damn her. What was he supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to justify it? The truth hit him smack in the face. There was no justifying it—it was what it was. A second truth slammed his gut. He and Grace were never meant to be together—then or now.
When Ruth buzzed him on the phone, he tried to hide his annoyance. “Yes, Ruth. Who needs to see me now?” Ruth Zimmer was his first and second line of defense. At sixty-two, she fielded his calls, made him chocolate chip cookies, and treated him more like a son than a boss. When she disagreed, she let him know, not with words but with a raised brow and a pointed look that said, you’d better rethink that decision. He valued her opinion because Ruth knew people. She was a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and she’d vowed one day she’d hold his child in her arms.
Probably not going to happen.
“I’m sorry, Max, but there’s a woman here who insists on seeing you.”
Wasn’t there always a woman who insisted on seeing him? “Send her away.”
“But, she says it’s urgent, and I think you might want to see her.”
“Not interested. Make up an excuse and get rid of her.” He turned back to his spreadsheet, determined to focus on the damn thing. Seconds later, his office door opened. “Ruth, what now? I told you to get rid—” He glanced up, stared.
“Hello, Max.”
Grace! Play it cool. Don’t let her see she’s unsettled you. He leaned back in his chair, studied her. “Hello, Grace. You’re a long way from home,” Like two thousand miles. “Why are you here?”
“I came to apologize.” She moved toward him, her hips swaying in a gentle rhythm…
“Apologize? Grace Clarke doesn’t apologize, does she?”
“She does when she’s wrong,” she said in a quiet voice.
She stood across from his desk, within touching distance. How many times had he dreamed of her being here with him? He shut down his thoughts, rubbed his jaw. “You could have saved yourself a lot of time by picking up the phone. You know you can give an apology over the phone, too.”
“I know. But some are meant to be delivered in person.” Her voice turned husky, dripped emotion. “I was wrong to leave without talking to you. It was unfair and cruel.” She paused, licked her lips. “I took the easy way out to protect myself, but I shouldn’t have done that. I should have stayed, and we should have talked about what happened between us.” Her dark eyes glittered, burned into him. “And I shouldn’t have assumed to know what was best for you.” She lifted a shoulder. “Jenny helped me see that.”
He stared at her, tried to guess what was inside her head as her words squeezed his gut. “You traveled over two thousand miles to tell me that?”
She nodded. “You might not be able to forgive me, but I had to tell you face-to-face how sorry I am that I misjudged you, that I didn’t give us a chance. You deserve to be happy, Max, and if I’m the one keeping you from that happiness, then I’m sorry. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t have written that letter. I would have stayed, I would have faced you and tried to talk things out.”
“That would have been helpful.” Instead, she’d ripped his heart open once again. Max eyed her. “Is the apology the only reason you came?”
She traced the glass paperweight on his desk. “I would ask for another chance, but I think I’ve already used up too many of those. So, I only ask that you see me for what I am, a flawed human being who’s made her share of mistakes and spent most of her life blaming everyone else for them. You deserve happiness, and I wish that for you more than anything.”
What was she saying? What did she mean? “I’ve never been a mind reader and I guessed wrong with you too many times. Why don’t you just spit it out and tell me what you’re trying to say.” He pushed back his chair, stood.
“I’m saying I love you. I’m saying I’ve always loved you. But I’m also saying that I know I’ve hurt you, badly, and I’m not sure you’ll be able to forgive me, or want to forgive me.”
She loved him? Had always loved him? His chest ached with the possibility. Could he believe her? Did he want to? Max sucked in a deep breath, blew it out. “You’ve always loved me, but you left me? Twice.”
Grace nodded, slid her gaze to his. “Yes.”
“I see.” He didn’t see a damn thing, other than a lot of misery heading his way. “So, where does that leave us?”
“I guess it leaves us wherever we want it to…”
“Meaning?” He was not going to surmise anything. Whatever Grace meant, she was going to spell out.
“Are you really going to make me say it?” Her c
heeks flushed a brilliant red. “Is it not obvious?”
“If it were, I wouldn’t be asking. I’ve bet on my instincts before where you’re concerned, and lost every time.” He thought of the trip to Pennsylvania all those years ago when he wanted her to run away with him, start a life together, and the marriage proposal he planned to offer the morning after the thirty-day deal was over. He was done offering; she was the one who would have to do the offering now.
“If I could have any wish in the world, it would be to have a life with you.”
He stared at her. “You mean you want to marry me?”
Those dark eyes sparkled. “I want to be with you.”
That was not an answer. “Grace, what does that mean? That you’ve finally decided you can trust me? That you don’t think I’ll get bored with you? That you think our very different lives can intersect without exploding? Or that I’m worth marrying because I’ve got solid financials?” He pointed to the papers on his desk. “You sure you don’t want to take a closer look before you make the offer?”
“Max, don’t.”
He ignored the pain in her words. She’d hurt him, tossed him aside with a letter spelling out all the reasons they could never work, and now, a month later, she’d decided she wanted him? And not just in a sexual way, but a walk-down-the-aisle-give-me-my-share way. Damn it. Max took in the sad eyes, the hurt expression, the soft breaths that could turn into sobs any minute. If he weren’t careful, he’d agree to whatever she offered…because he was an idiot who would do just about anything to be with her.
How sick was that?
“I would love to be your wife, to stand by your side for the rest of our lives.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’ll sign whatever prenup you want, anything.” And then the words every woman who’d ever wanted his money told him. “It’s not about your money. It’s about you.”