"Passed out," he said as softly as the feel of her skin against him. "She never saw a thing. Never mentioned it. She was almost like a shadow around the house."
"That's why you stopped drawing, isn't it? Why you've been hiding all your sketchbooks ever since. Because your father--" She spat out the word in disgust. "--sent your dreams up in flames." She wrapped her arms around him, holding so tightly it felt as if she could weld the pieces of his shattered heart back together by the sheer force of her will to heal him. "Yet you still tried to do everything you could for them."
"I spent my teenage years trying to fix them. I believed that if I poured enough liquor down the drain or got them into rehab or AA, I could change them. I believed I could find something to replace whatever they were missing." He stared at the whiskey glistening on the bricks. "But maybe there's a part of me that's just like my father," he whispered. "Maybe that's what all the parties and galas are about. He needed his parties too, craved them as much as he craved his next drink."
She drew back, gripping his shoulders to force him to meet her gaze. "Don't you ever say that. You're nothing like him. And those parties were all about helping me. There's nothing wrong with you."
"Then why couldn't I fix my parents?" He needed to find a reason.
"It was never your job to find their solution for them." She ran her strong, yet gentle, hands down his arms. "They had to find it for themselves, and they never could. They might never have been capable of it."
He'd never wanted to admit the painful truth that some people simply didn't have the strength to change. People like Bob and Susan had just as many trials in their lives, but they'd never given up. But his parents hadn't even tried.
"They did one thing right, Sebastian. They helped make you who you are. Between them, they raised a man who has the strength, the passion, and the heart of ten men."
"That was Susan and Bob and the rest of the Mavericks." He wanted nothing more than to wrap her tightly in his arms, but he had so much to confess before he could do that. "I tried to do the same with your mother. New doctors, new treatments, as if I had the power to change everything for her."
"I love that you wanted to try. But after we've done everything we can, we have to accept things the way they are and make the most of what we have. I love you for your empathy." As if she'd had a sudden painful thought, she stiffened slightly against him. "I'm so sorry I made it sound like everything was your fault. It isn't. Not even close. I was wrong for fighting you about contributing to Magnolia Gardens."
He ran his fingers through her hair. "I understand your need to take care of that yourself. I pushed all the parties and the commissions because it seemed like the only thing I could do for you."
She rested her hand on his chest, her fingers stroking lightly. "I know. And I was afraid of letting you take over, as if I'd lose my independence." She shrugged. "I've always taken care of my own responsibilities, so it was hard to accept anything from you. But I was wrong. I told you I loved you, but I never turned my whole heart over to you. I was always holding something back, because--" This time she was the one swallowing hard. "It's the same reason I thought I should drop teaching when my art career started to take off--because it's the reasonable, streamlined thing to do. I mean, why would anyone keep a lower-paying job when every hour she spends making sculptures can earn so much more? But I've realized that's who I am. Someone who does things that don't make sense to everyone else, who tosses together those jumbled pieces of life in weird ways no one else could imagine. But it works for me. If I ever tried to change who I am, I'd only be destroying an important part of myself." She trembled in his arms. "Can all those jumbled-up, junkyard pieces of me be good enough for you?"
"Yes, damn it." It killed him that she needed to ask. Didn't she know that she was everything to him, exactly the way she was? "You're the best person I've ever met, the most amazing woman I've ever known." He grabbed the clipboard and this time he made her look at it.
In the sketch, she wore her face shield, her gloves, her smock, her boots. The sparks of her torch flew out all around her, almost like a halo. The lines of the horse she worked on weren't perfect. They were a work in progress. And he saw something he hadn't known he'd added until she made him look. The face shield's reflection showed lines that weren't there yet, the perfect lines that were still in Charlie's head, lines that would eventually grace the horse itself. Because Charlie could fix anything.
"Do you see?" His whisper was gentle, but firm. Determined. For the first time ever, he could see one of his own drawings with total clarity. "Whatever you set out to do, you truly make the imperfect extraordinary. Not perfect, but amazing all the same." He put his hand under her chin to make her look at him. "How could I not love you? How could you ever think you weren't good enough for me?"
She was silent for a long moment, before she finally said, "I wasn't listening to all the things both of us were too afraid to say to each other. But they were there all along and I'm listening now, Sebastian." Her voice beat inside him, became a part of him the way she would always be a part of him. "I wish you'd told me about your drawings, what your father did. It explains so much. He was the one who made you feel you had to be perfect, that your art had to be. And he made you think that the truth you tell in your drawings is bad, when the exact opposite is true."
He nuzzled her hair. "I'm sorry. You asked, and I tried to pretend it wasn't a big deal. But I will always tell you everything. No more secrets. No more hiding. And I'll always listen."
"Then let me tell you what I'm going to do," she pushed on in a low, seductive, mesmerizing tone. "I'm going to teach my classes in the fall. I'm going to put the other commissions on hold while I finish the chariot race for your building's grand opening."
His blood pulsed wildly. "And then?"
"Remember, I'm a Zanti Misfit. With me, you have to expect the unexpected. So after our grand unveiling, I want to wing it." She smiled her gorgeous, beguiling smile. "Being without a plan and letting the unexpected happen won't send our lives down the tubes. In fact, something tells me that's when things are going to become more magical than ever. You see, I've decided to stay for keeps. You're not getting rid of me. And we'll figure out how to make this work. Together."
She leaned close to brush her mouth across his. She couldn't know how he'd longed for that when he believed he'd never feel the sweet caress of her lips again.
Lord, he wanted nothing more than to take everything she was offering--her complete and unconditional love. And yet, beneath everything, there was still that one unavoidable fact. His way of life was toxic to her, and he'd never forgive himself if he continued to hurt her.
So instead of losing himself in her kiss--in her--he forced himself to speak the truth. "What if I do it again? What if I push too hard? What if I hurt you?"
Always doing the unexpected, she smiled. "We're both clear that I don't want to be the glitter girl you want me to be. But I do want you. And I get that figuring it all out might be messy. It won't always be easy to decide where I should draw the line on my junk and where you should draw the line on your parties." She pressed a finger to his lips when he began to open his mouth. "And you aren't like your parents, craving the next party. For you, there's a purpose for it."
No, he definitely didn't crave it the way he craved Charlie, her touch, her kiss, her.
She gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders. "But life and love can be messy and hard. That doesn't mean we chuck it in. We aren't Whitney and Evan. We certainly aren't your parents. We're strong enough to keep at it until we find the right compromise." She barely took a breath as she said, "We won't always be perfect, but we can make this work. We can be magnificent, because what we have is the best thing I've ever known. You are the best man I'll ever know. And I refuse to give up on you. So are you going to give me up without a fight? Or are you going to walk the mile right beside me every step of the way, no matter how hard it is?"
He felt what she was saying deep in his marrow. Come on, baby, fight for me like I'm fighting for you.
His parents had never fought for each other. But he and Charlie weren't his parents, damn it. With her by his side every single step of the way, the ghosts of his past couldn't have power over him. Not when her love for him--and his for her--was a billion times stronger than anything else in the world.
"I told myself I needed to let you go. That it was the only way to keep you safe. To make you happy. But damn it, I could never have done it." He framed her delicate face in his hands. Except that there was nothing delicate about Charlie. She was strong, independent, talented, stubborn. And she was perfectly imperfect. He loved her more than anything in the world. "I'll never stop fighting for you, Charlie. And I'll never stop loving you. Not for one single second. No matter what."
Then he lowered his mouth to hers, sealing his promise with a long, slow, lusciously sweet kiss.