“I really suck at this,” I muttered.
Here I was, happily falling for Hope, and she thought I was looking for the end of the line.
How could she not know I was completely in love with her?
Hope was the only thing that mattered. Not the money or Sawyer Enterprises. Not this fucking house or my family. Not even the town.
I wouldn’t let the town sink for my own sake, but to keep Hope safe, I’d do anything.
I’d burn the whole fucking place to the ground if it would keep her out of danger.
I’d fucked around long enough, assuming I could protect her, assuming whoever was after us would give up. She could have been killed today. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I stared at her, trying to think of what to say. If she didn’t already know, then words weren’t enough. I thought I’d been showing her how I felt, but obviously, I’d been fucking that up.
I could stand here and tell her I loved her all day, but the words wouldn’t make her believe it if my actions hadn’t gotten through.
I stared up at Hope’s warm eyes and I knew.
I knew what I could say. What I could do.
Every step of Hope’s life had been arranged by someone else, for their motives. Their interests. She was thirty-one years old, and I wondered if anyone in her life had ever asked her one simple question.
“What do you want?” I asked, holding her eyes with mine. “If you could have anything in the world for yourself, what would you want? What’s your dream?”
She stared at me, mute, and I read the fear in her eyes. If she couldn’t trust me even this much, I really had fucked everything up.
I stood and crossed to her, kneeling in front of where she sat on the couch, taking her hands in mine. “Trust me, Hope. Trust me enough to tell me your dream. The thing you want more than anything. Forget the will and this town and what people expect. Tell me what you want.”
Hope sucked in a breath, opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I squeezed her hands tighter. “I promise, Hope. You can trust me. With your dreams, with your heart. Please.”
A tear spilled over her cheek. “Don’t you get it? It’s the same thing. My dreams and my heart are the same thing. And I—” Her voice cracked and she broke off. It was enough. The little she’d said was enough.
“I love you, Hope. In one way or another, I’ve always loved you.”
More tears. Then her eyes fell and she whispered, “It’s the baby. You said you didn’t want the baby, but now—”
“It’s not the baby, Hope.” I released her hands and stood, facing away before turning back to her. All I could give her was the truth.
“I’ve been thinking about a family with you pretty much since we left Harvey’s office the first day. The only reason I said I didn’t want a baby was because of this exact situation. This was my nightmare, that you’d think I only want you because you’re pregnant. I didn’t want you to feel like a pawn. I wanted to wait so you’d know I wanted you. Just you. Not as a package deal or a way to save my inheritance. How can I prove that it has nothing to do with the will and everything to do with you?”
Hope stared up at me in mute wonder. Of all the things she’d been thinking, that I was in love with her clearly had not been on the list. Hope. Usually so observant, but she had a huge blind spot when it came to her own self-worth. I was going to spend a lifetime teaching her exactly how amazing she was.
“I can’t prove that I love you,” I said. “You have to believe. Tell me what you want. If there’s any chance I can give it to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make your dreams come true.”
“Anything?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as if considering. Didn’t she know? Surely, over all these years, she’d stored up a dream or two.
“Anything, Hope. Whatever it is, I’ll find a way to give it to you. It’s about time you got what you want for a change.”
“And if I want to leave you? To be on my own for the first time? What then?”
Chapter Forty-Three
Griffen
Her words stabbed straight through my heart. I knew that was a risk when I’d asked. She’d spent her whole life being organized by other people. Maybe her wildest dream was just to be on her own.
I tipped my face to the ceiling, searching the plaster for an answer. None came. I went for blunt honesty.
“I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say ‘Yes, even that’. I can’t. I can’t say those words. Don’t ask me to.” I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “But I’d do anything to make you happy. Anything. So...” I shrugged. “I think it might kill me to watch you leave. But if that’s your dream....” I swallowed again, my throat so dry it clicked.