Page 60 of Knot Your Romeo

The fire pit behind my cottage casts flickering shadows across the garden as evening settles over the estate. I’ve been at this for an hour now, methodically burning every trace of Kate’s presence in my life. Photos, letters, the expensive perfume she left behind—all of it feeding the cleansing flames.

There’s only one thing left.

I look up at the wind chimes hanging from my porch, their gentle melody filling the night air. Kate had hung them there during our second summer together, claiming they’d help metrack wind patterns for the gardens. We both knew it was just an excuse to mark my space as partly hers.

For three years, I couldn’t bring myself to take them down. They were my penance, my reminder of what I’d lost, what I’d failed to keep. But now, standing in the warm glow of the fire with Kate’s ghost finally banished, I realize they represent something else entirely. They represent my inability to move forward. My commitment to living in the past rather than building the future I deserve.

I reach for my phone, my fingers hesitating only briefly before typing out a message to Jolie.

We need to talk. Can you meet me by the lake? It’s important.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, then immediately start pacing around the fire. What if she doesn’t come? What if she’s already moved on completely, found someone who isn’t carrying enough emotional baggage to sink a ship? What if I’ve waited too long?

My phone buzzes almost immediately.

Jolie: I can’t. I promised my mother I wouldn’t have any contact with you or your family.

The words hit me hard, but I force myself to type back.

Please. Just this once. I have something that belongs to you.

Jolie: I never left anything at your cottage.

My heart, I want to write, but even in my current state of emotional revelation, I’m not quite that dramatic.

Something I should have given you weeks ago. Please, Jolie. After tonight, if you want me to stay away forever, I will.

The minutes stretch endlessly before her response comes.

Jolie: The old oak tree by the water. Twenty minutes.

I bank the fire carefully, making sure the last of Kate’s belongings are nothing but embers before I head toward the lake.

My hands are shaking—with nerves, with hope, with the terrifying possibility that I might actually get this right.

The moon is full tonight, casting silver light across the water where Jolie and I first kissed. Where I first tasted what it felt like to be chosen rather than settled for.

The memory of that afternoon—her soft lips, her trust, the way she’d looked at me like I was everything she’d been searching for and now gives me the courage to keep walking.

She’s already there when I arrive, standing at the water’s edge with her arms wrapped around herself defensively. The moonlight catches in her shorter hair, emphasizing the elegant line of her neck, the determined set of her shoulders. Even angry with me, even trying to protect herself, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Thank you for coming,” I say quietly, stopping a few feet away to give her space.

She doesn’t turn around. “You said you had something of mine.”

“I do.” I take a deep breath, letting the words I’ve been practicing spill out. “My complete honesty. My trust. My willingness to fight for us instead of against my fear.”

Now she turns, her amber eyes reflecting the moonlight.

“Eli—“

“I burned everything tonight,” I interrupt, needing to get this out before I lose my nerve. “Every photo, every letter, every reminder of Kate I’ve been clinging to for three years. I should have done it the day she left, but I was too much of a coward.”

Jolie’s expression softens slightly, but her posture remains guarded. “Why now?”

“Because losing you hurt worse than losing her ever did.” The admission tears from my throat, raw and honest. “Because I realized I wasn’t mourning Kate. I was mourning the version ofmyself that existed before she left. The man who believed he was worthy of love.”

“You are worthy of love,” she says quietly.

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