Be What Love Is

by Malouff, Ellie

  Reid taps on his phone a few times and hands it over to me. It’s open to a webpage with a photo of my painting on it and others that were in a series of ballerina portraits.

  “Okay,” I say tentatively. “So what did Damien say about it?”

  “His staff appraised it at eight million pounds.”

  A big heavy rock drops into the pit of my stomach. “Excuse me?”

  Reid smiles, he’s clearly pleased, but I’m not sure why. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s worth millions. Did you know?”

  “I had no idea, not a clue.”

  “How did Trevor acquire it?”

  “He’d always had it. I remember something about how it had been in the family for a long time.”

  “Well, sweetheart, it’s quite a treasure.”

  I smile, but still feel a terrible sense of apprehension. “I suppose it is.”

  “Damien has secured it for us. Best not have it sitting around the house any longer.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea.”

  Reid tucks some hair behind my ear and slides his hand down my arm. He’s a little tentative as he says, “It will fetch upwards of ten million pounds, if not more, at the auction.”

  “Wait. What?” I ask.

  “I know what you’re going to say. I know you love that painting, but you can’t actually pass up on ten million pounds can you?”

  I stand up, needing some space to think. “That painting means the world of me.”

  He stands up too but wisely keeps some distance between us. “I know it has sentimental value, but we’re not talking about a few thousand pounds here. It’s ten million. You’re hearing me, right?”

  “Isn’t it enough? All the money we both have?”

  “Christ, Cara, don’t make me answer that.”

  I’m sick to my stomach because I know his answer is no.

  “I’m not giving it up.”

  He presses his palms together as if to pray and takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart, when we made our arrangement at the reading of the will, we agreed to split the proceeds. We agreed that if there was anything of substantial value that it would go to auction. Clearly, we’re dealing with something of substantial value.”

  “Really? You want to go back to that agreement? Haven’t we become more than that? I thought we were in this together.”

  “If we’re in this together, then you have to understand that we need this money for our future.”

  “We have plenty of money.”

  “No. With the Collins Group deal falling through, I have to put in my own capital. We need that money. Cara, I really must insist.”

  All of the nasty things Victoria and Alexander said last night about Reid come to mind, but I refuse to believe that he would ever go that far.

  “You told me I could keep that painting. When I asked, you said, ‘of course, you can keep it, you don’t need my permission.’”

  “That’s before I knew it was worth eight million bloody pounds.”

  “That painting is absolutely priceless to me, I wouldn’t accept a billion dollars for it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not. I’m completely serious. I’m not selling it, I absolutely refuse.”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Make me do something I don’t want to do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Cara, I don’t want this to get messy. Please.”

  “Messy? Can you please be more clear? What are you talking about? What don’t you want to do?”

  “I don’t want to have to take legal action against you.”

  His words floor me. “You can’t be serious,” I huff.

  He doesn’t meet my eye when he replies, “They bequeathed half the estate to me. That painting is half mine.”

  I erase the distance between us and get right up in his face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I will do whatever I have to do to secure our future.”

  “Our future, ours together?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “There is no future if you take that painting away. Listen to me now, that painting is going home with me and that’s the end of it.”

  “And where is home to you?” he barks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come off it Cara, I can tell you hate it here. How can I be so sure that you won’t take that painting and run.”

  I’m absolutely flabbergasted. “What?”

  “You heard me. How can I guarantee that you’re going to stay here?” He cracks ever so slightly and his vulnerability shows.

  “Reid.”

  “I mean, are you willing to marry me?”

  “What? Are you proposing?”

  “If I was?”

  We pause, for a long moment. I’m so angry at him, but my heart is still attached to his. The idea of being connected to it forever gets me off track. Snapshots of a wedding, making vows, living happily ever after with him rattle around my brain. But reality rears its ugly head, and I’m brought back to the here and now.

  “I can’t even think about this right now, because everything is so messed up.”

  Stiff disappointment settles in his face.

  I go on. “I’m seeing this side of you, this money hungry selfish side, and I don’t know what to think.”

  “This is me, sweetheart. Always has been. When have I ever led you to believe that wealth is not a top priority in my life? Did I ever show you any sentimental side? I told you outright I sold everything I’ve inherited.”

  “Victoria and Alexander warned me about this last night. They said you would take advantage of me.”

  “Oh, fuck them,” he spits.

  I’m afraid they’re right, and if they’re right, I’m not sure I can do this. I turn away from him, but he turns me right back. He’s seething. Looking straight into his eyes, I ask through gritted teeth, “So this is you? A man without a heart?”

  Reid recoils like I’ve slapped him. He points at me. “You know how I feel about you.”

  “If you feel that way about me, then let me keep the one thing that connects me to my grandfather.”

  Reid will eventually bend on this. He’s not a monster. I do know how he feels about me—he loves me with his whole heart. I feel it in every touch. I see it in how he looks at me. He’s being conservative and protective, but he’ll see reason soon enough. He’ll give me this.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do it,” he says and a shudder ripples through me. “Not when that much money is at stake. Not when the Collins Group deal fell through because of our romance. I need the money, and I’m going to have to take it.”

  “Then you’re going to lose me,” I reply, my voice shaking.

  “Over a canvas with some tacky ballerina on it?”

  “Yes, Reid. If you don’t understand this about me, then you don’t know me at all.”

  He takes two steps at me but stops. “You know what I think? I think you’re using this as an excuse to run away. I think you don’t like London and instead of giving it a proper shot, you’re running scared.”

  “It’s true, I don’t like it here. I don’t want to live here, but I’ve been willing to uproot my life, give up my internship, and move here despite that. Would you do the same? No. Because when it comes to you, you’re clearly incapable of bending to what I need.”

  “Are you serious?” he shouts. “I’ve given up so much for you. I’ve jeopardized my business to play house with you out in the countryside this summer. I lost one of the biggest deals we’ve ever sought because I couldn’t walk away from you.”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t my fault. Are you taking Victoria’s side on this?”

  “She’s got one thing right, ever since you walked into my life everything has changed. I’ve lost all sense because of you. I was right when I said loving you was against my better judgment.”

  “Well, I’m so sorry,” I sneer sarcastically. “You
know what, you can have all the proceeds from the house. I don’t want it. I never really wanted it to begin with. This isn’t me. This life, this posh existence. I’m a simple girl from San Diego. That’s where I belong, that’s the life I want.”

  “Without me in it?”

  “I wanted a life with you, but not this one. Not one that strips my soul right out of me. If you really love me for me, you would understand this.”

  “Cara—”

  I don’t give him the chance to complete his sentence. “I’m sorry, Reid.”

  He stops and just stares at me, long and hard, Finally, he says, so quietly, “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. I opened my heart to you, when I never wanted to love again, and you’re leaving me.”

  There are no words to describe the guilt and sorrow that floods me. Tears form in abundance, and I start to cry. “I never wanted to break your heart, but you’ve broken mine.”

  “Please, Cara. Understand that I’m in a real bind here.” He drops to his knees and takes hold of my hands. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me. I love you.”

  “This isn’t what love is. Not when you choose wealth over my feelings. I’m sorry, but you haven’t given me much choice here. If you insist on selling that painting, I can’t stay, because I will resent you forever.”

  Reid continues to hold my hands in his, and it reminds me of the first time we met, the first time we touched. Even at this moment, it’s as electric and magnetized as it was that first night. He’s processing all of this. I pray he comes out on the right side of this situation. I pray that our love is strong enough.

  “So, can I keep my painting?” I whisper.

  His eyes lower and he looks at our clasped hands, mine follow. Suddenly, they lose all form of connection, and his skin turns cold. He drops my hands and stands up. As I watch him move away from me, he looks different to me. His face is stone, his eyes are empty. Everything I know about him has changed. He’s shut off, and I’m reminded of the photos in Anna’s albums. My Reid is gone.

  “I’m sorry, Cara. Your grandfather’s business needs the capital. I have to do it for Trevor.”

  My heart crumbles into a million pieces.

  “If you think that, you didn’t know my grandfather at all.”

  My phone rings loudly. It’s a harsh interruption. He doesn’t stop me from going to the nightstand and picking it up. He doesn’t ask me not to answer it. He doesn’t care at all. It’s over.

  It’s Julie. I answer the phone. “Hi.”

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Did you find my mom?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.

  “No, not yet. She wasn’t there, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m coming home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Unhappy Endings

  Reid

  She’s gone.

  I should be devastated. I should be crippled by that familiar hollowness within me. I’m not. There’s nothing. I feel nothing. Nothing but a cold lifelessness, as if everything that made me feel alive has been sucked out of my body. All of my feelings have been stripped, and there’s nothing left but cold hard metal.

  Cara left, and I didn’t chase after her. I let her go, knowing that my heart went with her. Never again will I dare to love.

  I didn’t even hear her leave. I stood at a window in the great room and stared. At some point, maybe an hour later, I turned around, and she was gone.

  Now it’s night, and I’m not sure how the day escaped me. I remember drinking a bourbon, neat. I remember reviewing my accounts, processing my holdings, and running reports. Sustenance was delivered. From what I recall, it was tasteless.

  Victoria invited herself over, and we discussed the expansion. At least that’s what I chose to focus on. There was a lot of talk on her end, but I only listened to the numbers and what it would take to achieve our goal. She emphasized that we need a quick turn around on the auction, and in particular the Degas painting. I agreed to her strategy and wrote Damien an email, copying Victoria, that pushed for a quick auction date. The sooner my inheritance is converted into liquid assets, the better. She left after that. I’m not certain at what time.

  The clock says it’s past one in the morning. Instead of going to my bedroom, a place I haven’t been since morning, I open a high profile client’s file and write a recommendations report. It’s dry, conservative even, but more or less guarantees a return on investment of 1.4%. For comparison’s sake, I pull up a quarterly report written by Trevor nine months ago. His strategy was bolder than mine, risky even, but he figured a 5.6% return on investment. Digging in, I check that their actual ROI exceeded his prediction.

  This is usually when the frustration sets in, the doubting voices that I’m not good enough to follow in his footsteps. That doesn’t happen. I send the report to the clients, copy the necessary associates, and shut my laptop.

  It’s been long enough. I go to my bedroom and assess the mess. The bed is unmade, the sheets twisted and clumped, a stray pillow lays in the middle. My clothes from yesterday are still on the floor, and so is a dainty piece of sheer red fabric. Her lingerie. I stare at it from my vantage point across the room. There’s a tiny flutter in my belly and its the first thing I’ve felt since Cara left. I push it away with practiced ease and blink a few times. Something so vibrant as that lingerie doesn’t fit in here. I march across the room, pick it up, and deposit it directly in the bin.

  I pull out my phone and shoot off an email to my cleaning service. I need you to come clean today. I’ll pay the rush fee.

  I grab one of my sharpest suits and my toothbrush. Then, I call for my car service and go to Montgomery and Lewis for the rest of the night.

  Cara

  The warmth of San Diego wraps itself around me like a comforting hug from an old friend. I glory in the embrace as much as I can muster, considering how sleep deprived and emotionally strung out I am. My eyes gobble up the palm trees that line the street across from the airport terminal. It’s startling and confusing to be home again.

  I spot Julie’s rusty green Jetta from a distance. Everything that follows next is a blur. Her frenzied stop, her hurried exit from the car, her arms around me. My tears. I don’t remember getting my suitcase into the car. I don’t remember the drive home. I slip beneath the surface of my grief. It’s dark and blue and viscous. It muffles every sound, including every question that she tries to ask me.

  I miss him already.

  But the way he was, cuts me so deeply that it makes me physically ache. My stomach. My lungs. My eyes. My mouth. Everything hurts.

  For the next twenty-four hours, I stay huddled under the blankets on my bed. I know I need to track down my mom, to make things right with her, but I’m not even sure I can stand. Julie checks on me often and the look on her face speaks volumes about her concern. She isn’t one to sit by idly, so it doesn’t surprise me when there is a knock on my bedroom door, and she says, “Cara, your mom is here.”

  I get up and open the door to find my mother on the other side. She is a sight for sore eyes. “Mom,” I say and throw my arms around her. She’s apprehensive at first, but she puts her arms around me too and squeezes me tightly.

  “Cara, my girl,” she whispers sweetly.

  “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” I reply and start to cry.

  “Sssh, hush now.”

  Julie gives us a small smile as she backs away and leaves us to it. I barely notice because I can’t take my eyes off my mom. I missed her face. So much like mine, only aged with time. She looks good, with rosy cheeks and a little bit of makeup. She’s wearing an outfit I’ve seen her in a hundred times before, a grey cardigan sweater over a striped t-shirt and jeans. Her straight brown hair is swept back by a silver barrette on each side of her head.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, genuinely happy to be in my mom’s arms.

  “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you,” she says and leads me over to my bed. We both sit down and then sh
e takes hold of my hands.

  “I’m so sorry,” I start up again.

  “Cara, stop. Stop apologizing. I’m the one that needs to apologize to you.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn. You know me, I retreat when I get upset, but Julie knocked some sense into me.”

  “She has that ability,” I say with a small smile.

  “I also want to apologize for being so cross that you went to England. You’re a brave young woman, Cara. I couldn’t be prouder of you,” she says with her eyes averted.

  Wow, that was not what I was expecting in the slightest. “Um, okay. Thank you.”

  “You see,” she starts again, “I got a letter from my dad.”

  “Oh, the one that Mr. Leeds sent.”

  “Yes, and so I was going to do what I always did with his letters. I was going to send it back.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No. Not this time. I was even at the mailbox, holding it in my hand, ready to let it go, but I couldn’t,” she says through welled up emotions. “So I took it back home and put it out of sight. I didn’t open it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it yet. And then I found out that you went to England and I was so mad at you, Cara.”

  “I’m sorry you found out like that,” I say sincerely. “I should have told you from day one.”

  “It’s okay. How could I blame you? I don’t exactly handle this stuff well.”

  We let the truth of that statement settle between us.

  “I was ready to write you off. I felt like you betrayed me.”

  “I know,” I admit.

  “But I get that you didn’t. It wasn’t your fight, Cara. I’m sorry that I kept you away all these years.”

  I’m unable to hold back the tears that slip down my face. It means the world to me that she's validating my feelings.

  “I went through the past few weeks feeling terrible about you and feeling regretful about my dad.”

  “Really?” I never knew her to be regretful, ever.

  “Of course. He was my father. Deep down, I still loved him very much,” she answers and gives me the saddest smile. “When I truly felt at my lowest, I was finally lifted up again. I got an email from Gavin Melville.”