“But you’re not the playboy type anymore,” she insisted.
“Says who? The gossip blogs? We duped them, Allison. We duped everyone. And now you’re buying into the fiction we created, too.”
“Maybe you’re the one who can’t see reality from make-believe,” she said. “Maybe you’re not the wilding you always thought you were. Maybe deep down, there’s always been a loving, caring partner clamoring to get out.”
Frustrated with her romance-stricken ways, he dragged a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know how thoughtful you were from the beginning, agreeing to ask for my father’s blessing to marry me. How many playboys would do that? And how many would insist that he wanted to make the ring he gave his wife mean something? Or be eager about seeing her in her wedding dress? You’ve done things from the start that identified you in ways neither of us even considered at the time.”
“And now they’re a big deal? Now that you love me?” he demanded.
“Everything that’s ever happened between us matters now. You could have let me go to Ireland alone. You didn’t have to take that trip with me. You didn’t have to get close to my family or light candles with me. And you especially didn’t have to wonder what renewing our vows would be like. Do you know how major it was for you to be having those sorts of thoughts?”
“And do you know how major it was for me to decide against it?” he retorted. “That was a defining moment for me. The moment I knew I had to get our marriage to end sooner. That’s why I called my friend from the USCIS and prodded him to keep hurrying things along.”
She flinched. “You wanted to be rid of me?”
“I wanted to stop this from happening.” He made a grand gesture, referring to her feelings for him. “I don’t know how to accept your love. I don’t know what to do with it.” He searched her wounded gaze, wishing he could kiss and hold her and be the man she wanted him to be. “I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
Her voice hitched. “So there’s no chance for us?”
“Between a marriage-minded woman like you and a confirmed bachelor like me? Not that I can see.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and suddenly he wanted to reel his “confirmed bachelor” remark back, to say that he didn’t mean it. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But he was scared of making that kind of commitment. Terrified, he thought, of falling in love with her, too.
Allison opened her eyes, and they stared awkwardly at each other, pain and discomfort zigzagging between them. She glanced away, and he suspected that she was suppressing the urge to cry, trying to seem stronger than she was.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I’m so damned sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing. You never promised me that we were going to stay together. I just wanted to believe it was possible.”
But it wasn’t, he thought. In his screwed-up family, love never panned out. So why would it be any different for him? Allison deserved someone who understood love, who wasn’t afraid of it. When Rand was on the farm and immersed in her homeland, he’d gotten caught up in the idea of it being real, of it feeling authentic. But this was getting way more real than he’d bargained for. He didn’t like having emotions he couldn’t escape from.
Allison stood and held on to the back of her chair. “I’m going to pack an overnight bag and head off to my apartment in Dallas. After that, I’ll make plans to get the rest of my belongings and return to Ireland.”
He started. “You’re going to go home? And give up your green card?”
She tightened her hold on the chair. “Staying in America doesn’t make sense anymore.”
Hating himself for being such a miserable coward, Rand got to his feet. He hadn’t just broken her heart; he’d crushed her lifelong dream of living in the States, too. He’d taken her natural sweetness, her innocence, all of the qualities he’d chosen for her to become his wife and mangled them to bits.
“I can drive you to your apartment,” he said, trying to stop her from going off alone.
She shook her head. “I’d rather that you didn’t. I’d also prefer that you weren’t here when I come back for the rest of my things. I’ll let you know what day it’ll be.”
“So we’re never going to see each other again?”
“I think it would be easier if we make a clean break.” She moved forward as if she were going to hug him goodbye, but then she pulled back, protecting herself from getting too close. “Be well, Rand. Be happy.”
“You, too.” He went numb inside, feeling as if a part of him was dying. The part she loved, he thought. The husband she so desperately wanted him to be.
He stayed in the yard while she packed her overnight bag and arranged for an Uber. After she was gone, he returned to his big empty house.
Missing her already.
* * *
Allison entered her apartment feeling horribly alone and trying not to cry. If she broke down in a puddle of tears, she feared the pain would only get worse. Already she hurt so badly, her bones ached from it.
She’d meant everything she’d said to Rand about what a wonderful husband he’d turned out to be, about how attentive he’d been to her. But he’d spurned her belief in him.
She didn’t want to go back to Ireland, but she didn’t know what else to do. Living in Texas would never be the same, not without Rand.
She sank onto her sofa and curled up into a ball. Every moment they’d spent together was turning like a pinwheel in her mind. She couldn’t envision her life without him.
If he could just see himself through her eyes, he would know that she was right, that they were meant to be together.
Allison was still going to write her novel and make the hero a man like Rand. Except in the book, he was going to fall desperately in love with the heroine. He was going to believe in her, in himself, in them as a couple.
Her fantasy Rand. Her dream husband.
The tears she’d been banking began to fall—hard, sobbing, racking tears, burning their way down her cheeks.
She got the maddening urge to call Rand, to hear his voice, but she didn’t do it. She stayed on the sofa, crying for what she’d lost.
When the sogginess became too much, she went into the bathroom to get some tissues. She blew her nose until it was dry and chafed. Then, catching her tormented reflection in the mirror, she splashed water onto her face.
From there, she returned to the main room and found her way onto the patio, needing a breath of air.
She’d told Rand that she was going to arrange to get the rest of her belongings. But she wasn’t going take the fairy gardens back to Ireland with her. She was going to leave them at Rand’s house, so the tiny sprites could watch over him.
A gift to the man she loved.
If only the fairies could have swept her and Rand into a supernatural realm for all eternity. At least then they would still be together, frozen in time and married forever.
* * *
Rand couldn’t stay home by himself. He was about ready to climb the walls, so he shot his brother a text and asked if he could stop by.
When he arrived, Trey was waiting for him in the garage and tinkering around on his workbench. He took one look at Rand and handed him a longneck from a nearby mini fridge.
Rand twisted the cap and took a swig. But he quickly set it aside. A cold beer wasn’t going to help. Nothing would.
“What’s going on?” his brother asked. “What’s wrong?”
Rand got right to the crux of it. “Allison left me. She went back to Dallas and soon she’ll be going back to Ireland.” He waited a beat before he added, “I screwed up my marriage, just like you said I would. I hurt her, bro. I broke her heart.”
Trey frowned at him, a scowl of instant disapp
roval. But that was what Rand needed. It was part of the reason he came here. He wanted his brother to confirm his crappy character.
“What did you do, exactly? How did you hurt her?”
Rand gave him a condensed version. “After we got the approval for her green card today, she told me how wonderful I was, and I told her I wasn’t cut out to be her husband.”
Trey leaned against the workbench, grilling him, asking another probing question. “And why did you do that?”
“Because she thinks I’m better than I am. Because if we stay together, I’ll never be able to live up to her expectations.”
“But according to her, it sounds as if you already are.”
Rand blinked. “Since when did you become so supportive of my marriage? You’re the one who told me from the beginning that I wasn’t husband material.”
“Yeah, but I must have been wrong. I mean, look at you. You’re missing your wife so much, you can hardly see straight.”
“Of course I miss her, but that isn’t the point.”
Trey made a confused face. “So what is the point? That she thinks you’re the greatest guy on earth? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”
“Yeah, but it’s complicated.” Rand couldn’t blow the whistle on his phony marriage. He and Allison had agreed to keep that secret to their graves.
“You still love her, don’t you? Because when you first came here to say that you were getting married, you kept saying how much you loved her.”
Once again, Rand couldn’t admit that he’d lied. But it didn’t matter anyway. By now, there was no denying it. He knew that he loved Allison as passionately as she loved him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be feeling as if his heart had been ripped clean out of his chest. “Yes, I love her.” He paused to come to grips with his admission, with accepting it. “I totally do.”
Trey went silent, but so did Rand. His pulse was beating a mile a minute.
A few seconds later, Trey said, “You need to fix this.”
“You’re right, I do.” He needed to figure things out. “Thanks for listening, for being here for me, but I should go.”
“Don’t mess it up any more than you already have.”
“Yeah, I know.” Rand needed to get his shit together. But damn, he’d never been in love before, either.
Their visit ended, and Rand drove straight to Dallas. He stopped at a park in Allison’s neighborhood, just to keep himself close to her.
He exited the car and walked along the grass. When he came to a duck pond, he watched the birds float along the water. They looked so peaceful, content with where they belonged.
But Rand wasn’t. He’d never been so lonely.
He thought about how amazing it was to have a wife who believed in him, who loved him, who felt safe and warm in his arms. Crazy thing was, she made him feel that way, too, even when he was too damn stubborn to realize it.
But he wasn’t too hardheaded to know it now.
Love wasn’t something to be feared and neither was commitment. They were gifts life had to offer, and so was the sanctity of marriage.
Allison had been perfect for him all along: sweet and funny and spunky, loving, sexy and supportive. Everything a man should cherish. She was his dream girl, the living, breathing fantasy he didn’t even know he had. And now he wanted to settle down with her, to give her his heart, to raise a family, to be the husband she needed. But would she forgive him for the pain he’d caused her? Would she allow him to retract the hurtful things he’d said to her?
God, but he hoped so.
* * *
When the doorbell chimed, Allison ignored it. It could be someone selling something, she supposed. Or it could be the lady next door searching for her cat. On occasion, the friendly old feline jumped over the fence and slept on Allison’s patio furniture. But she hadn’t seen the cat today, and she couldn’t bear to see anyone else, either.
She wasn’t even supposed to be here herself. If she hadn’t told Rand that she loved him, she would still be at his house with him. But that wouldn’t have solved anything. She just would have been living a lie.
The doorbell chimed again. But once again, she didn’t answer it. She needed to be alone in her misery. Not that anyone, aside from Rand, knew she was miserable.
What if it was him at the door? What if he was here?
To do what? she asked herself. Rehash the same conversation they’d had earlier, with him apologizing for not being able to return her feelings? As much as she loved him, she couldn’t bear to go through that again.
Still, she took a chance and peered through the peephole. Sakes alive, but it was him.
Forcing herself to be brave, she undid the latch and opened the door. They stared at each other, gazes locked.
“Look what I’ve done to you,” he said.
She assumed he meant her ragged appearance. He looked disheveled, too, but nothing marred his handsomeness, at least not to her.
She defended her person. “I just had a good cry, that’s all.” A horrible, life-will-never-be-the-same breakdown, she thought.
She gestured for him to come inside, and they stared at each other all over again. She hated how much smaller her apartment seemed, dwarfed by his big, broad-shouldered body. He was achingly close to her.
Too, too close.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
She flinched and stepped away from him, his apology drumming in her ears. “Please don’t do that.”
“Am I too late?” A fearful expression clouded his eyes. “Have you stopped loving me?” He thumped a hand against his heart. “Because I love you, Allison.”
She went dizzy, her mind spinning in all sorts of directions. Was this really happening? Had he really said that? “You love me?”
“Yes.” He closed the gap between them, taking both of her hands in his. “It scared me at first, thinking that I might be falling in love with you. But I’m not afraid anymore. I want to share my life with you, to have kids with you, to do everything real married people do.”
“This feels like a dream.” But it wasn’t. The man she loved, the man who loved her, wasn’t a figment of her imagination. The hands that held hers were strong and solid, flesh and bone.
“Will you marry me a second time? Will you return to Ireland with me next year on our anniversary and have the ceremony your family wants us to have?”
She nodded. “I’d marry you a million times more.”
She fell into his arms, and they held each other. He kissed her, his mouth warm and tender against her own. Nothing had ever tasted so good or seemed so right.
After they separated and she caught her breath, he asked, “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen I can use?”
“Yes, of course. But what for?”
“I want to write something down for you.”
She couldn’t begin to guess what he was up to, but she would soon find out. She went over to her stationery drawer and retrieved a felt-tip pen and a small lined sheet of paper, tearing it from a notepad. “Will these do?”
“They’re perfect.”
He put pen to paper. But it only took him a matter of seconds. He folded the note and gave it to her.
She eagerly opened it. Along with today’s date and his signature, the letters IOU were written on it. “I don’t understand. What do you owe me?”
“I’m going to write you a poem, like the ones you used to write to your fantasy husband. I can’t guarantee how long it’ll take me or how good it’ll be. I’m not much of a writer. But I want us to have a tangible connection to that time in your life, and that’ll be my way of doing it.”
Allison could have melted like a teenager at his feet. No doubt about it, he was the hero she’d dreamed about since she was a girl. He absolutely, positiv
ely was.
“I need you,” she said. Here and now and naked beside her, she thought. “Will you lie down with me? Will you hold me and touch me?”
He took her hand in his. “You know I will. I need you just as much.”
She led him to her bed, and they removed their clothes. The tears she’d cried were gone now. In their place were warmth and happiness.
They turned down the covers and slid beneath them. She luxuriated in the masculine beauty of his body, in the familiarity of it. He whispered in her ear, telling her that he loved her, and hearing him say those three little words thrilled her to the marrow of her bones. She repeated them to him and felt the same wondrous thrill of saying them.
There was no actual penetration. But they made it work anyway, pleasuring each other with hands and mouths and being wildly creative. She didn’t have a supply of condoms at her apartment. He hadn’t brought protection with him, either. But he had love on his mind when he’d arrived at her door, not sex.
She adored him even more for that. There was nothing sexier than a man who was thinking about love. Nothing more perfect than knowing you were part of his soul.
* * *
Hours later Allison went home with Rand, marveling at his determination to share his life with her. He opened the safe in his bedroom and tore up the prenuptial agreement she’d signed, tossing it in the air and making confetti out of it.
She smiled at his boyish enthusiasm, the shredded document fluttering around them. “You’re being crazy.”
“Yeah, but it’s a good kind of crazy.” He returned her playful smile. “I want everything I have to belong to you, with no barriers between us. Speaking of which, we need to get rid of the doors between our rooms and make this one big master suite.”
Allison nodded her approval. There was nothing better than being happily married, than knowing her joy in Texas was just beginning. “I think I’d like to try my hand at driving the American way, too.”
He swung her into his arms. “You can do anything you want.”
She squealed as he spun her around, and when his stomach growled, they both laughed. “Maybe I better fix us something to eat.”
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