“No, but she may think that right now.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Liam, but you know I will always be honest with you.” I can tellfrom her tone that she’s upset for me, and that is why I love her so. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you and if you want me to fly over. I don’t want you to be there by yourself and not have anyone there supporting you.”
“I know you and Harriet have plans, and I don’t want to disrupt them, but thank you. I love you. I think I have an idea for the letter, so I’m going to let you go now, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Good luck, Liam, we love you.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Elisabetta
My eyes are heavy. I want to sleep, but my head is full of too many emotions. I lie on my bed, staring out the window, and try to think of happy thoughts. I’m so grateful that Skye and Romeo are here with me, yet I feel so conflicted about everything else. Getting to know my mother has been hard. There are days when she seems well, but there are more days when she is easily triggered and acts out in ways that are confusing to me. My father handles them easily, but they still make me scared and slightly afraid, and I feel guilty for wishing that I had a more “normal” set of parents.
I’m still heartbroken over Liam and try to ignore the way my heart races when I see him at breakfast and dinner. He doesn’t even try to talk to me now. Just sits there and stares at me. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m still dreadfully hurt that he lied to me. That he was going to pretend she was dead, even when he knew she wasn’t. I still love him, of course. I don’t think that will ever go away, and I’m annoyed that I’ve fallen truly,madly, and deeply in love with a man who didn’t have my best interests at heart.
My stomach clenches as Liam’s eyes flash in my mind. He’s always there with me, in spirit, even when I don’t want him to be. I turn over on my side and frown as I see an envelope on my bedside table with my name on it. I reach over, open it quickly, and start to read:
To my darling Elisabetta,
Please don’t rip up this letter. I know that I shouldn’t ask anything of you. I don’t have that right, but I beg you to read this through. I messed up. Royally. If I had a time machine, I would go back to the beginning and do everything differently. Except for falling in love with you. I would never change that.
I love you.
Truly.
Crazily.
With all my heart.
It feels weird to write that. I never thought I’d know true love. Never thought I’d even want it. But I suppose that’s because I never thought people like you existed.
Angels on earth.
I know I’m being sentimental, and I’m sorry if it makes you cringe.
I was thinking about what to write in this letter. Thinking how I could make this all right again. Fix what I broke.
I realize that I can’t. I know I can never take away your pain and what I contributed to that. But I was thinking about something you once told me. About how you felt alone. About how you felt abandoned. How you’d always felt empty inside. How Skye had saved your life. How she’d been the best friendyou’d always needed. About how you missed her now that she’s with Kingston.
And it struck me that you’ve always felt not good enough. Never felt chosen. Never felt like people stuck around. Never felt an overwhelming and all-in type of love.
I’m not a perfect man, which I know you know.
I’m grumpy. Overly consumed with money. A man who has lived his life solely for the pursuit of power and status. Even though I don’t really care about either.
But I will give it all up. Every last penny for you.
I will wait for you forever.
I will always have open arms, ready to hold you close.
Hands to pat your back and smooth your hair.
Lips to kiss away your tears.
I would take your pain away if I could.
But I’m not God, so I can’t.
However, I can walk this path with you and hold your hand. Talk with you. Listen. Love you. Hold you. Help you to understand that your mother and father are flawed people who made decisions they thought were best for you. That life never goes as planned, but that doesn’t mean we give up. No matter how many mistakes we make.