Page 99 of Wallflower
“Hey, Wallflower,” Chord says, popping his head into the room. “I was wondering where you got to.”
I startle, slam my laptop closed, and jump to my feet, then try to pretend I didn’t.
“Oh, hi.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I was just, um, you know. In here.”
Chord gives me a lopsided smile and moves all the way into the room. There’s nothing materially different about him today—he wears a t-shirt and jeans, his hair is neat but a little longer now than it was at the start of the summer, and his feet are bare inside the house—but he’s exceptionally beautiful for some reason, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
He takes a step forward. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yes. I’m great.” I stand and slide my palms down the front of my jeans. “Were you looking for me?”
“Um, yeah.” He crosses his arms, watching me like he knows something isn’t right. “I’m starving, and I noticed you barely ate any breakfast this morning. Do you want to walk up to The Hill for lunch?”
I glance out the window at the view that’s been mine for more than two months. The never-ending blue of the California sky. The vineyards. The gardens. The mountains. The ranch. A whole life. And I burst into tears.
Chord rushes around the desk and gathers me into his arms. “Hey. Don’t cry. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it.” He smooths a palm over my hair and kisses my head. “Tell me what it is. Let me take care of it.”
I cover my face and lean into his chest, the frustration and despair of the last few days crashing against me in a wave of overwhelm. I cry until my hands are wet and his shirt is soaked, and when the tears stop and my breath evens out again, Chord moves his hand up and down my back in long, soothing strokes.
“You have to say yes,” he whispers.
I jerk back and crane my neck to look up at him. “What?”
“You have to say yes to the job in Milan.”
“Chord, no. I—”
“Let’s just talk about it, okay?”
I sniffle, and he takes my hand, leading me through the foyer to the living room, settling me onto the sofa, and tucking me in under a blanket. He holds up one finger, then leaves the room,and by the time he comes back with two steaming cups of tea, I’ve calmed a little, and he knows it.
“Better?” he asks as I accept my mug.
“Yes.” I inhale the steamy aroma of peppermint curling from my cup and let out an exhausted breath. “Thank you.”
“Good.”
He seats himself next to me, then indicates I should swing my legs up over his lap. Soon, we’re snuggled in together, Chord’s large, heavy hand on my thigh, both waiting for the other to speak first. This time, it’s not me.
“I’ve been thinking about this thing with Charlie,” Chord says, surprising me. “With the ranch and the wine and the money. I saved her when she didn’t ask to be saved, and when she finds out the truth, it’s going to hurt both of us.”
Empathy swells in my chest. “You did it for all the right reasons, and when you explain that to her, she’ll understand. She has to.”
His mouth tips up at the corner, like he appreciates my faith but doesn’t share it. “Maybe.” He squeezes my thigh. “But the reason I’ve been thinking about it is because I’ve gone and done the same thing for you, haven’t I?”
Emotion catches in my chest because he’s right, but it would hurt too much to say it. “Chord—”
He clears his throat. “Just be honest, Wallflower. Nothing you say could be wrong, and I’m not going to get upset or angry as long as we’re telling each other the truth.” He smiles encouragingly. “Do you want to go to Europe?”
A single tear tracks down my cheek. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“Okay.” He nods to himself. “That’s okay. So… Let’s talk about it. Let’s figure it out. Together.”
It takes courage to say the things in my head, but I’ve kept my hopes and fears locked away for so many years that, on somelevel, I know that if I never let them out, I’ll also never have the things I want.
“I love you,” I whisper, “but I’ve spent the last ten years loving another person—my dad—more than I love myself, and it didn’t bring me happiness.”
Chord’s brows draw down, and his mouth is flat, but he nods and circles his palm over my leg. “I know. You’ve sacrificed a lot to be the person your father needs.”
