“Nothing, it’s just . . .” She’s afraid to believe in happily ever afters. She can’t read them because after the declaration of love in the last chapter, she’s afraid to see what happens next. She’s afraid to see if they’re still together. That’s why she doesn’t read them.
“It’s just what?”
“Nothing,” I repeat.
“Well . . . shit.”
“Yeah. You’re telling me,” I mumble. The past few days have been miserable. She’s my other half here in everything . . . and now that she’s gone, I’m fucking lost.
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? I can’t fix years of her thinking one way.”
“Sure you can.”
“You don’t know how stubborn she is.”
“You’re telling me you’ve given up? That’s not the man I know. The brother I know.”
“I haven’t given up. I love her, Ledge.” I sigh and run a hand over my stubble. It’s rough. I’m fucking rough. I look like the walking fucking dead. Roddy must think I’m on a bender, still shaken from the chopper crash with my bloodshot eyes and grumpiness.
But I can’t sleep.
I can’t eat.
I just want her back where she belongs.
Here.
With me.
“I just need to give her something to make sure she understands I care about her fear, but that it doesn’t scare me away in the least.”
“If you need our help . . .”
“I know, brother. I know.”
And I did know.
Ellery had been right. Dad’s book was about Dad—his life. His achievements. His failures. His challenges. His relationships with Mom and us. The short amount of time I spent doing the press release put that in perspective for me. Even more importantly, that day helped heal the rift that had formed between my brothers and me.
I know the love he held for me. The love they have for me. And in the end, that’s all that matters.
So when Ledger says they’ll be there if I need their help, I know they will be there. Just like I was when they needed help with getting Asher and Sutton. Because that’s what you do for those you love.
And I love Ellery.
The question is: what do I do to prove to her that I love her and I’m not going anywhere?
When the call ends, when I lie back in a bed that smells like her, surrounded by things that she had a hand in creating, I know I’ll do anything to get her back.
Even walk through fucking fire.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Ellery
It takes everything I have to step out of the car.
The inn is before me in all its remodeled glory. How ironic I stood here months ago with a pocketful of hope and no idea what this chance would offer me—if anything.
It gave me a new sense of myself, a confidence in my professional skills I never knew I had, and now a huge project under my belt that I can use as a reference.
It gave me a chance to see that I’m capable of feeling. Of receiving love . . . and now . . . now I need to steel myself for the person I want to love but am terrified to allow myself to.
And maybe that’s why I’m still sitting in my car, one foot out of the open door, the other in the footwell, as I summon the courage to face Ford for the first time in two weeks. Sure, we’ve talked through emails. Through conference calls with multiple people on the line.
But I haven’t seen him. I haven’t had a one-on-one conversation with him.
Until now.
Today is the contractors’ walk-through. The day where the people who made my dream come to life, get to see the finished product, what their work contributed to, before it opens to the public.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world, even if it means facing Ford before I have answers, or a sign, or whatever ridiculous thing I’m waiting for to tell me it’s okay to love him.
That it’s okay to be afraid but still love him.
I stare at this new beginning for me. Think about the memories we made inside. The partnership I cemented. And I miss him more than I ever thought possible.
“It’s a day for a lot of new things, Sinclair,” I murmur to myself as I take a deep breath and exit my car.
The inn looks incredible. The exterior is stunning with its lush landscape and newly made stone perimeter wall. My smile is automatic. My vision came to life, and I feel a sudden pang of regret over missing the last two weeks here. Over not being a part of the little nuances and problems that probably caused Ford and Roddy to scramble to figure out. Of not being here to finish the job Ford and I started together on a whim.
I just need space.
Isn’t that what I told him the first and only time we spoke after I left? When I told him that I was working remotely with Roddy to make sure my presence was felt in my absence? Isn’t that what I kept saying in my head every night as I cried myself to sleep? Isn’t that what I repeated on the drive here only to have it go out the window the minute I pulled in?
It was so much easier to heed my own request when I was away from Ford. But now that I’m here, and I’m more than certain he’s in there, I’m a mixture of every emotion imaginable as I move one foot after another toward him.
There are still a few things that need to be fixed or finished. Even now, I can’t shut off my brain from looking for them. The right shutter on the fourth floor, three windows over from the right is slightly crooked. A plant near the left corner has already died. The planter by the front door isn’t centered the same on the right as it is on the left.
And there is no signage for the inn’s name.
I guess that would be my fault. He asked and I never delivered an answer. Maybe I felt like I didn’t deserve to, or that he’d moved on and did it himself. Or maybe I was afraid to permanently place my mark on something we’d never share again.
Stop thinking that way, Elle.
Start thinking positively. Take this next step forward. You’ve already negotiated with your stepdad and have officially bound yourself to S.I.N. for the foreseeable future in the hopes that Ford will see you’re ready to commit to something with him.
If he’ll still have you.
I push open the front door, expecting there to be a flurry of contractors and their significant others milling about the halls.
But I don’t see anyone.
I move from one location to the next, the silence of the inn deafening, and I check my phone to make sure I didn’t mess up. That this is the time the invitation said.
It is.
“Hello?” I call out, feeling like a stranger in something I own.
Partially.
Fifty-fifty.
The thought brings a ghost of a smile to my lips as an “Up here” calls back to me.
I make my way to the rooftop bar expecting the party to be up there but walk into a completely empty space.
My breath falters as I hold my hand to my mouth. It’s done and absolutely gorgeous. This was the last place to be finished and so I missed seeing it come to fruition, but . . . wow.
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Ford asks from behind me, and my heart swells in my chest.
I hang my head for a beat, steeling myself for the visceral reaction I know will happen when I see him.
I only last seconds before I turn around to face him. He’s standing in the doorway with a Henley and a nice pair of jeans on. His hair is messy like I like it, and the hope in his smile owns every sad, scared, hopeful part of me.