But to my surprise, he was none of those.
Instead, he smiled. “You’re finally free.”
“Free.” I tested the word in my mouth, on my tongue. “I’ve forsaken everything, but somehow, I can’t summon any regret.”
“Then you know it was the right decision.”
“Quitting?”
“I’m glad you told her you quit, but she fired you. It was a choice, but your fate had already been decided. What I meant was Marcus.”
And that was the truth, the reason I couldn’t seem to feel sorrow or loss. Because of all I’d gained.
“I approve of any man who inspires you to stand up to her. I’m sorry for the chance you’ve lost to make a difference in that company, but somehow, I think you’re going to make a difference no matter where you go.”
“I wonder where that will be. Where I’ll go?” I asked myself as much as him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Oh, yes you do.” He leaned in, covering my hand with his. “You’re going to live.”
Tears nipped at my eyes, but before I could speak, he patted my hand and said, “Come on. Let’s get you packed.”
Companionable silence fell between us as I followed him up the stairs and to my room. While he retrieved my suitcases from the closet, I took a look around, uncertain if I’d ever see this place again. My plants and my flowers, all collected in the bay window. My books and my knickknacks, the documentation of my entire life. This room was my sanctuary in this house, the place where my happy memories lived. I wondered if it would be seized, liquidated, but wondering was all I could do. I knew too little of that world to do anything more than guess.
Dad opened up a suitcase and laid it on my bed, and I began to clean out drawers.
As he gathered my favorite books, he said, “What now? Where do you want to go? My apartment in SoHo? Take some time to regroup.”
My cheeks flushed. “I thought I might stay with Marcus, if he’ll have me.”
He looked down his nose at me playfully. “I’m going to need to formally meet this boy.”
“You will, don’t you worry about that. I take it you’re not staying here?”
A shadow passed behind his eyes. “Only long enough for a few parting words with your mother.”
My hands paused mid-fold. “Because you’re going to the apartment?”
“Because I’m going to file for divorce.”
I blinked, a smile rising on my face. “Really? You’re really going to do it?”
“Really. I’ve had enough. And I think that day I’ve been wishing for, the day when you were safe from her, is finally here,” he said proudly. “I’ll have the rest of your things brought over to my place, and your room will be waiting.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you. You aren’t the only one who’s gained your freedom, and you’re not the only one who gets to live. So let’s make the most of it, shall we?”
And with a long embrace and a few tears, we would do just that.
23
Emancipation Day
MARCUS
I’d paced a nearly visible rut in the floor, I’d been at it so long.
From the second Maisie texted me with the briefest and broadest of explanations, I’d walked the stretch between my living room and the front door like a caged animal. Her message had been coupled with a request to stay with me, which I’d agreed to with more enthusiasm than I should have been allowed, given the circumstance.
I didn’t know much, but what I did know was that it was bad. Catastrophic. Her mother had found us out and shredded Maisie’s life to ribbons and bits, her future and security wiped away in a matter of minutes, by way of a few weighty words.
And it was all my fault.
We should have been more careful. I should have protected her. I could have stopped all of this had I not been so thoughtless, so self-serving. And now, she’d lost everything, just like we’d feared. Like we’d planned.
But now that it’d happened, the reality was far more gruesome than I’d imagined it would be.
And the timing couldn’t have been worse. With mediation approaching, with the lawsuit still up in the air, my family could very well pay for the grievance—I had no doubt Evelyn Bower was loading her cannons with devious and dishonorable fodder now that a Bennet had stolen her daughter from her.
It was incredibly dangerous and potentially detrimental.
The only hope, the only brightness in the thick of this storm was that now, Maisie was mine, and I’d take care of her better than anyone could.
My hand slipped into my pocket, finding the velvet box where it’d been for a week, thumbing the curve, turning it around and around without purpose as I worried over her.
I didn’t know why I’d been carrying it around with me everywhere rather than leaving it at home. Perhaps it was the comfort I felt when reminded it was there. The ring in that box was a promise. It was a future—our future. It was what I wanted, the thing I’d known since she first tumbled into me.
On paper, it was illogical. There was no reason to rush, no point in doing anything rash. We barely knew each other regardless of how right it felt. It was ludicrous to even consider making this promise—the promise—until our hormones and infatuation simmered down. Until we had a chance to live together. To be together openly, to see how we grew together when we had the real space to.
There were rules, rules I’d always believed were the only way.
But that was the thing about Maisie.
She defied all rules. All logic. All things I’d thought should be and would be and could be, she superseded.
I knew without a doubt that this was it. What she and I had together was undeniable. The alternative—living the rest of my life without her—was beyond my imagination. I could think of nothing she could say or do to change that. She had my trust, and she had my love, the words synonymous and definitive. And so, last week, before either of us had admitted our feelings, before I’d known how she felt, I’d walked into the jeweler knowing one thing for certain.
I loved her, and one day, I’d make her mine forever.
I’d wandered around the glass cases in the quiet shop, peering into the glowing displays until one winking diamond caught my attention, stopped my feet. Simple and beautiful, timeless and sparkling, it sat in that case, angled right at me as if to say, Here I am. The knowledge that this was the ring had struck me as fact, and that was that.
It’d been in my pocket ever since. Sometimes in my pants pocket—its preferred spot so I could fiddle with it—but more often in my inside coat pocket where she couldn’t easily figure out what it was, should she notice it. The when was distant enough, because despite my eagerness, I knew a good time from a bad one. And this was not the right time. Once we were past the lawsuit, once her mother and the Bower mess was behind us and we had time to ease into a relationship free of constraint, then I’d ask. And God help me if she said no.
Because there would be no getting over her.
I sighed, turning the box around again in my hand. She’d be here any second, and the realization had me hurrying it into my coat pocket and removing said coat, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs at the island.