But I was. I had my memories in order and my mind in place. There was no explanation for how I was reacting, which was flustered and almost delighted by his words. We’ve always had an intense repartee between one another that never gave us time to consider one another as anything else but word-sparring partners.
Right then, the light on Livingston shifts. I see past the teasing, his womanizing ways and the charm I’ve watched him reserve for the world. I know he’s not giving me that charm now.
He stares at me with a naked vulnerability, and a hunger that takes my breath away.
He leans in so our faces are inches apart. “Could you love me?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rainey
My fingers tightly curl around the railing as I shake away the memory. I was foolish then to ever give weight to his words. He didn’t know what he was saying. Shortly after our conversation in the hallway, Livingston’s memory came back. No one knew why, or what brought about his memory. Maybe time is what his brain needed to heal.
His entire family was elated, and even more so to realize that Livingston could answer a burning question for them: who attacked him. Which in a surprising twist was one of Nat’s good friends, Scarlett Gould. It was a case of mistaken identity. She was after Étienne the entire time.
In the midst of all this celebration, I smiled. I was truly happy. But my heart twisted and tugged as though it was being tormented. I was going to lose my time with Livingston, and I didn’t want that. Perhaps I cared for him more than I realized. I knew it was unfair of me to hold hurt against Livingston when he didn’t know he caused it. So I pushed the time out of my head as best as possible. If it didn’t exist for Livingston, it wouldn’t for me. That was easier said than done.
I want to ask why he doesn’t love me, but I don’t. It’s easy to admit your love for someone. Far harder to ask why someone doesn’t love you back. No one can do that and walk away with their pride intact.
Tears fall down my face. In a hurry, I brush them away but they seem to keep coming one after the other.
You played a dangerous game, and you lost.
“Rainey. Please, stop!” Livingston reaches me and grabs my arm, turning me around. He opens his mouth but stops when he sees my glassy eyes. He reads into my tears as something else entirely. “What happened? Did that fella make an advance toward you?”
With the backs of my hands, I wipe the tears and shake my head. “No. Loras was a perfect gentleman.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how to make you happy!” Livingston drags his hands through his hair and turns to walk away from me, then comes right back. It’s like there’s an invisible rope tied between us. We can only walk so far before we’re yanked back to one another. “Rainey, I can’t …” His words fade as he stares at me with agony in his eyes. “You overheard me speakin’ with Nat. Does this have to do with the telegram? Because I’ll let you read it. I’ll tell you what Étienne said.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply before he reaches into his back pocket and produces a folded piece of paper. I take it from him and read through it.
TRIED CALLING STOP
EXAMINED FINAL LEDGER STOP
TODAY THE TEMPERATURE WAS HIGH STOP
CLOSE TO ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN STOP
GIVE EVERYONE MY LOVE STOP
E.
Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. “What is this? What is Étienne talkin’ about?”
“When we have to pass important information on, this is our subtle yet creative way of communicatin’ to each other. He was informin’ me that he finished lookin’ through your family’s accounts. There’s no money, and it was worse than we thought. The accountant wasn’t attentive with the bookkeepin’. It will take a lot more than your dowry to pay off your family’s debts.”
“How much?”
Livingston hesitates for a moment. A flash of pain enters his eyes. “One hundred and fifteen thousand dollars.”
A shallow breath escapes me. All this time, I’ve been hoping we owed far less or that the accountant was wrong in his estimation, but this was worse than I could ever imagine.
“I wanted to wait until after we were back in Charleston to tell you. Not here. But I don’t want you to think I’m hidin’ somethin’ from you.”
Right then I realize that Livingston truly doesn’t know that I heard what he said to his sister.
“Dammit! I don’t know want to do.”
I stare back and take a deep breath, trying my best to gather the courage for my next words. “Tell me why you can’t love someone like me,” I blurt.
His head rears back as though I’ve struck him. “What?” he says, his voice ragged.
It’s out, and now there’s no going back. I need to keep going. I need answers. “I heard you tell Nat you couldn’t love someone like me. Why? Why did you say that?”
The rain beats against my body. The material of my dress is heavy and itchy. My hair has fallen and hangs around my face. Livingston’s hair clings to his forehead with the ends curling out. Droplets of water gather to the edges of his perfectly molded face before they fall away.
I cross my arms and forge ahead. “Was I merely like every woman you’ve been with?”
A look of horror crosses his face. “Absolutely not. You’re more than that. I—”
“Because I love you,” I say in a rush. My heart is beating so fast my entire body shakes. I’m surprised I can get the words out. “I don’t know how I let this happen. But it did, and I do. And I thought you should know the truth. I love you, and I believe these strong feelin’s won’t go away anytime soon.”
I exhale and wait for Livingston to reply. But he just stares at me with his mouth partly open, and his brows furrowed. I hate this silence. It’s maddening.
“Livingston, say somethin’.”
He shakes his head ever so slightly. The bewilderment fades from his eyes. “If I was to ever want to hear those words, I’d want them to be from you. But Rainey—”
I lift my hand, cutting him off. I take a step closer to him. “Please don’t say you love me as Miles’s little sister or Nat’s best friend. Do you love me?” I repeat, emphasizing every word by tapping his chest, where I know his heart still beats.
I want him to speak, whether good or bad because Livingston is so remarkably skilled at responding with his body. There’s never any need for words. But my question is worthy of an answer.
I am worthy of an answer.
Livingston captures my hand, linking our fingers together, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. The longer he remains silent, the further my heart breaks. It’s an interesting thing. The breaking of a heart is never heard by another soul, except for the person it belongs to and the one doing the breaking.
“Rainey, we both know how temporary life is no matter how permanent it may seem.”
He delivers his words with a conciliatory tone that, at first, I don’t sense the rejection weaved throughout them. I rather he was blunt and to the point.
Inaudibly, I swallow and remind myself not to cry. “So you will spend your life alone, keepin’ the company of people who have zero substance and no love to give rather than findin’ people who want to love you and believe in you?” I say, my voice croaking at the last words.