Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“I do.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Callie Ironside, you have loved that boy since the moment you set eyes on him. And he has loved you back all these years too. I remember the way Lewis watched you after what happened with Nathan, and I remember thinking how I’d never seen a little boy look so ready to jump in front of a moving bus for someone. And that’s how it’s always been between you. When you moved, he moved, and vice versa. Like two halves of a whole. Neither complete without the other. Even though you were kids, I always assumed you two would be forever. I don’t know what happened when you were eighteen. I wish I did.”
Her words made my chest ache even harder.
And so I told her.
Everything.
About how I’d felt him growing distant, pulling away, how I’d tried pathetically hard to keep him close, only to overhear his conversation with Fyfe.
As I spoke, Mum poured our tea and made up a scone for me. She pushed the tea and plate toward me as I relayed my last conversation with Lewis. “Am I to feel guilty that I attempted a relationship when he couldn’t?”
Mum gave me a chiding look. “I love you, Callie, but let’s be honest. You’ve never, not once, attempted a relationship with anyone else.”
I sighed. “You know what I mean. I at least attempted companionship. It’s not my fault he couldn’t.” Though I felt wretched about it. “He was the one who left.”
That was when she pursed her lips so hard, they bled of all color. My stomach knotted. “What? I know that look. You don’t agree?”
“Can you handle some blunt honesty right now?”
Indignation made my skin hot. “From you, always.”
She nodded, her warm brown eyes sympathetic. “I think that technically Lewis left … but that you didn’t give him much of a choice.”
Renewed guilt flushed through me.
“I think that understandably, you were deeply scarred by Nathan. That a father could do that to his kid …” Her mouth wobbled, as it always did when she spoke about my birth father. “And I think that a consequence of everything you went through is that you demand absolute love, loyalty, and certainty from the people you give your heart to. And so far, it’s been easy. Your dad and I adore you, and you’ve never doubted it.”
“Is it wrong to want that kind of certainty?” I shrugged helplessly.
“You should always demand love and loyalty, my sweet girl. But truly giving that back to the people who give it to us means being able to recognize when their mistakes or weaknesses are not malicious. To understand and to remember they’re human, and humans are not perfect. To love them on their worst day. Now, if someone is constantly making those mistakes or hurting you, then, of course, I would want you to rid yourself of that person.”
“But Lewis …?”
Mum reached over to take my hand. “Was a boy. A boy who grew up in a tiny village where everyone knows him … and I don’t think questioning whether this was the place he wanted to be was a capital offense. I think most kids at that age would have concerns, thoughts, curiosities, a desire to explore. And I don’t think having a brief uncertainty about whether a teenage romance had a future is a capital offense either. He was steadfast and loyal, and he made you feel loved. And I think the very first time he messed up, you weren’t very forgiving. I’m sorry, but that’s what it sounds like to me, baby girl.”
It was everything Lewis said to me in the bakery two weeks ago. And it was everything I’d said to myself over the years but refused to deal with because then it would mean that losing Lewis was my own fault.
A sob threatened to burst out of me, and I was almost choking trying to keep it in. I let my hair fall over my face as I turned to look out the window and silently cried.
“Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry.”
I waved Mum off, trying to pull myself together.
For the past two weeks, Lewis had done as promised and given me space. Maybe in that time, he’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. I’d broken up with him in what amounted to a teenage temper tantrum because I’d needed more than anyone our age could have given, all because my real father was a sociopath who’d messed me up. Then I’d spent the next seven years dodging truly meaningful relationships because I reckoned if Lewis Adair wasn’t capable of loving me the way I needed, then no one else had a snowball’s chance in hell.
As it turned out, he had every right to be angry with me. And yet he was still ready to forgive me because he loved me.