Page 92 of The House Guest
She pulled back and wiped her eyes.Fuck.I was really messing with her mind. That only validated the fact that I needed to give her space.
“You have my number. You know where I live. I’m not going anywhere, Primrose.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
A moment later, she disappeared out the door.
As she drove away, I tried not to think about the fact that I might never see her again. Instead, I had to believe.
When Benjamin walked in a few minutes later, he found me staring blankly into the fire.
“What happened, Dorian?”
My gaze stayed fixed on the flames. “I decided we should go back to California.”
“Why?”
“It’s too much for her. I’ve said what I needed to. Now I need to give her breathing room. She needs time to digest all this.”
“When are we leaving?”
I finally turned to him. “Tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That this isn’t the outcome you were hoping for.”
“It’s not over yet. I feel it in my heart. I just don’t know if I’m gonna have to wait three years or thirty. But I’ll wait—at least until she tells me it’s over and decides to marry him.”
“Is that being fair to yourself? If she remains unsure, you just stop your life for the next six months or whatever? What does that even look like?”
I shrugged. Any life outside of one with Primrose seemed remarkably unimportant right now. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far. But one thing about growing up and maturing is realizing that it’s not all about me. Her little girl needs to come first. Whatever Primrose needs to do for her daughter is what she’s gonna choose. And I’m okay with that. Because I love her. And I also love her daughter because she’s a direct extension of her mother. I need to follow my gut here. And my gut is telling me to physically walk away, even if my heart is still with her.”
Benjamin placed a hand on my shoulder. “Okay, then. I’ll start gathering our things.”
CHAPTER 25
Primrose
An all-consuming energy followed me around the rest of that afternoon. Rosie colored in the living room after I picked her up from school, and I went into the adjacent sunroom and picked up my brush for the first time in forever. I’d had all of the equipment set up for a while now but rarely touched it. Yet today, Ireallyfelt like painting. It seemed so natural once I started the first strokes.
When I began, I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. But gradually the canvas transformed into a scene from my past. It was the pool at the mansion, lit up at night with multicolored lights. It wasn’t clearly identifiable as the pool, as it was more abstract, but the colors were exactly as I remembered them. The image embodied the nostalgia I felt as I thought about Dorian returning to California tomorrow. This wasn’t my best work, but it reminded me why I’d always created art: to express myself. I realized it had been hard to do that after my breakup with Dorian because I’d felt dead inside. Being around him again hadlit the fire that had been missing—in a different way even than my daughter being born. Dorian had come all the way out here, risking his own heart to make sure I knew I mattered to him. Yet I’d given him nothing back because I was too afraid to feel anything. The cornucopia of colors I’d just created reflected the chaos inside of me.
I stood back and looked at the painting. In the process of creating it, I’d gotten some clarity. Before Dorian left, I owed him honesty. I had no choice but to catch him before he flew to L.A. if I wanted to make sure I didn’t leave anything unsaid. I certainly hadn’t been able to express myself this morning.
Casey was working late tonight, so I asked Lucy if she’d be willing to watch Rosie for me. Thankfully, she said yes without inquisition, although she had to be at work for her evening shift pretty soon, so I didn’t have much time. I told her I had some personal business to take care of and would fill her in later.
After I dropped Rosie at Lucy’s, I sat in my car and texted Dorian.
My hands shook as I typed.
Are you still here?
He responded almost immediately.
Dorian: Yes. Our flight isn’t until early afternoon tomorrow.
