“Fuck you.”
Creed smirks. “You’re not my type, mate.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m a bit wary of listening to relationship advice from someone who hasn’t been in one since you dicked over my sister.”
He pinches his lips into a tight line. As always happens when I bring up what went on between my sister and him. Which is why I don’t mention it often.
“You know damn well that’s not the case. I never made your sister a promise I had no intention of fulfilling. Not like you did with Nora. Going back on a promise? Not standing up for what you believe in? That doesn’t sound like the Anders I know.”
I grind my teeth, my jaw ticking in an attempt to keep my emotions in check. But something inside of me snaps. Everything I’ve kept from Creed for months burns like lava as it flows from me.
“That’s because the Anders you knew is dead, Creed! The Anders you knew used to be able to run. Could fly a fucking helicopter. Could fire a rifle and hit a target 300 meters away. Now I can barely even hold the thing steady, and that’s on a good day. My legs and hips are constantly sore from just walking. Oh, and this morning? I had to sit down to take a bloody piss because I was so damn dizzy. So excuse me if you don’t think I’m the same Anders. I’m not. The sooner you wrap your head around that fact, the easier it’ll be when part of your job assignment is cleaning up my shit and piss.
“You can stand there and judge me for not doing enough to keep Nora here, like everyone around me seems to think. But at least I saved her from spending the rest of her life married to a goddamn cripple.” I slink to a nearby chair, collapsing into it, fighting against another dizzy spell. They seem to be happening more and more lately, especially since Nora left. I lower my voice, sounding defeated. “I sacrificed my happiness so she can have a chance at being happy. So she could be free.”
“Anders…,” Creed begins, slowly walking toward me and sitting in the chair beside mine. “You don’t believe that, do you? Do you honestly think she wouldn’t be happy with you simply because you don’t live up to this ideal of perfection you have in your mind?”
“You don’t know what it’s like, Creed. To want to make love to your fiancée and aren’t able to. To feel like half a man. Not even. To feel…” I shake my head, gradually lifting my gaze to his. “To feel like a fucking burden.”
“I won’t say I know what you’re going through, because I don’t. I have no idea what it’s like to constantly have my body betray me. But I do know that Nora doesn’t care about that. Hell, she found it in her heart to forgive you even after everything you took from her. That’s how deep her love for you runs, Anders. She doesn’t care if you’ll be stuck in a wheelchair one day.”
He licks his lips, studying me for a beat. “Do you remember your last night together in Los Angeles after driving Route 66? How you asked me to arrange a private showing at the drive-in.”
I swallow hard. “I do.”
“And what movie did you ask they show? What movie was absolutely non-negotiable in your mind?”
“An Affair to Remember,” I say grudgingly, sensing what he’s getting at.
I’d originally requested that movie because the main characters fell in love while traveling. Much like Nora and me, they came from different worlds, had other commitments and obligations. But regardless of all the complications, they fought to make their dreams a reality. Nicki Ferrante even promised to start painting again, despite destroying all his previous work because it didn’t meet the level of perfection he’d hoped to attain. Those were the lengths he was willing to go to in order to pursue his dream of being with Terry McKay.
But now, the story has a deeper meaning than just two strangers falling in love aboard an ocean liner.
“In the final scene,” Creed continues, “when Nicki Ferrante sees Terry McKay and finally realizes why she doesn’t get up from the couch, does he simply shrug and say, ‘Well, it’s been swell, but have a nice life, you daft cripple’?”
I chuckle, grateful for the break in tension. “No. But—”
“But what? This is different?” he taunts, knowing precisely what my argument will be. “A few of the details might be, but the gist of it remains true here, Anders. He didn’t care she couldn’t walk. Didn’t care she was stuck in a wheelchair. That she might be a ‘burden’ in some people’s minds. What did she tell him?”
“Creed…,” I beg, the mere thought of those words like a knife to my chest.
“What. Did. She. Say?” he repeats, firmer.
I blow out a long breath. “‘If you can paint, I can walk.’”
“Exactly. What happened the night of that accident was a tragedy. But that’s precisely what it was. An accident. You weren’t drinking. You had what we now know was an MS flareup, which caused you to momentarily lose your vision. I can’t guarantee how the police will respond, but I’d be hard-pressed to believe they’ll hold you accountable when any accident is involuntary. When you didn’t even know you’d caused that crash until a year ago. So, for the love of Christ, stop moping around here because some crusty old men told you to. Do you remember what happened the last time you stopped doing things the old way?”
I blink, not answering.
“People fell in love with Nora. The entire country went nuts over the idea of you two together. You may think your hands are tied, but I have no doubt if you broke a few more rules…” When he narrows his gaze, there’s no question he’s referring to sitting down for the interview with Carly Hart, “they’ll do so all over again. Everyone loves a story of redemption and forgiveness. And that’s certainly what yours is. Sometimes you have to break a few rules to break new ground. It worked before. It can work again.”
I look straight ahead, mentally going through everything that’s transpired since I left New York. The engagement leak. Being reminded of the laws of succession and the Royal Marriages Act. Nora agreeing to marry me in two months instead of next year, as we’d planned. Nora going through all her princess training without a single argument. Rekindling our romance, even with everything else going on. Taking her to Paris, where it all fell apart.
But despite it all, there’s no question my happiest times involved Nora. Making love to her at night after a long day of work. Waking up to her every morning. Photographing her on the balcony of our hotel.
She’s repeatedly told me she doesn’t care about my diagnosis. That she fell in love with my heart, not the body holding it. Hell, she’s shown that to be true. So why was I so eager to throw it all away, especially after everything she gave up for me?
The argument we had in the garden after I missed her first doctor appointment replays in my mind. She’d asked me what I sacrificed in order to be with her. To my utter dismay, the answer was nothing.
It still is.
But it no longer has to be.
A revitalized energy coursing through me, I jump up. For the first time in ages, I don’t waver on my feet, don’t have to hold on to some nearby piece of furniture to steady myself.
With determined strides, I stalk into the hallway, Creed close behind. As I turn the corner, I stop abruptly when I see my grandmother walking toward me.