It’s beautiful. It’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. He must’ve done some serious work because it all looks like it’s brand new, like it was picked up from the day it was built in the twenties and deposited right here, a hundred years later. I can barely believe it, and suddenly that sign outside, the sign withmyname on it, it feels like too much.
“You came.”
His voice hits me in the chest. It’s him, really him. He’s standing in the shadows of the stage and the acoustics in the place make everything he’s saying drift out like he’s looming right next to me, whispering in my ear. I shiver and bite down on my cheek hard, trying to get myself under control. I step forward, into the center aisle, and walk toward him.
The lights come on. They snap into existence and I blink a few times, steadying myself on a chair. He comes out from the wings and stands on the stage, looking at me with haunted eyes. His clothes are dirty, stained with paint and dusty from work, and his hair is pushed back haphazardly. He looks exhausted, but good, with the beginnings of a beard on his masculine jaw. There are ladders leaning against the walls and building material stacked all over, but I get the sense this is a project nearing completion.
I pause halfway toward him. He reaches the edge of the stage and stops. We stare at each other and a million questions rush through my mind, but all I can think about is him. Finally, it’s Baptist, the man I’ve been dreaming of for the last month, the man I keep wanting so badly it kills but won’t let myself ever quite admit how bad it’s gotten. Baptist, the father of my child, the only person to ever get me off and make me feel truly alive, the only person to ever break my heart so thoroughly and deeply.
He’s here, standing there, looking at me with those haunted eyes in this place riddled with the ghosts of his past.
“I like the new name,” I say and bite back tears.
A small smile slips across his lips. “Your dad wasn’t sure you would.”
“You talked to my dad?”
“Yesterday. He stopped by here and gave me a lecture on doing the right thing. You know, he’s a real piece of work, but he cares about you in his own twisted way.”
I laugh bitterly. “It’s too late for that.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Fuck him.”
I grin for a second and almost forget why I’m here but slowly my smile fades away. He stares at me, looking like he wants to break himself into pieces, and I don’t know what I want. I’m caught between running to him and running away, just like he did.
“Why?” I ask, almost whispering. “Why all this, Baptist?”
He hops down off the stage but doesn’t come closer. We’re on more of a level now, but he’s still so big and broad, so much bigger than I remember. I want to feel those arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against him, but the dark and bitter look in his eyes keeps me rooted to the floor.
“I can make excuses,” he says softly, voice still carrying in the empty theater. “I can tell you that Cowan got to me. He made me think I was worthless, that I’d only ever hurt the people around me. But that’s only partly true. He didn’t put those thoughts in my head—I’d been having them for a long time already, he only drew them out and amplified them. I could say he’s the one that made me run, but it’s not true.”
“Then why?” I step toward him, heart racing. Some of my sadness is replaced by anger as I remember that day. “Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you do anything?”
His hands ball into fists. “I had toshow you,Blair. It wasn’t enough for me to come back crawling on my hands and knees to beg your forgiveness. I had to do this.”
“Rename the theater after me? Why did you think that would matter?”
He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t only rename it. I also wrote out the ownership documents in your name. Blair, this place is yours, not mine. You own it.”
I let that sink in. The idea is so absurd that I laugh, unable to help myself. He doesn’t smile, only watches me as I turn around in a circle, staring at the beautiful building, trying to come to grips with its majesty and history, and failing, because it’s so damn absurd. This place is mine? This place is him, it’s all him, from the floor to the ceiling.
“This isn’t mine. How can you say it’s mine?”
“Because I did this for you. I bought it back from Crawford and rebuilt it from the ground up. Even if you don’t want it, the deed is in your name, and all the profit will go into your pocket. I did this for you, and for my baby.”
He steps toward me. I stare at him and the rage hits me again. “Don’t. Don’t come closer. You can’t say this is your baby because you ran away.”
“I’m sorry, Blair.” He says it so quietly, so deeply, that I want to throw myself at him and kiss him. “I fucked up. I know I did. But this place, it’s for you and for my baby, for both of your futures. Even if you hate me, and you have every right to, I’m going to spend my life in this theater running it and making sure it generates all the money and support you’ll ever need. And hopefully, I can bring our child here, and give him or her the childhood they deserve, full of wonder and magic and joy. That’s why I did it. I had to prove to myself that I’m not worthless, that I don’t only hurt people, that I can do something good for once in my life and make the best of an awful situation. That’s why I’ve been gone this last month. I couldn’t apologize in words. I had to show you I mean it. I’m so sorry, Blair. But this is yours now.”
I shake my head, tears running down my face. “No,” I say.
It’s like I’ve stabbed him. His expression twists and he turns away, looking out at the seats, anywhere but at me. “Okay. I understand.”
“No, Baptist. No, you asshole. You fucking asshole.” I advance on him now, jaw tight. “You don’t get to disappear from my life for amonthright after I tell you that I’m pregnant and think it’ll be okay.”
“I know that.”
“I told you I’m pregnant with your child and you walked away. You ran off and disappeared! I thought you were dead, I was fucking worried about you, and here you are in some fucking theater acting like you’re a home improvement guru talking about giving me a future and—” I stop inches from him, breathing hard, so mad I could punch him in the throat. The bastard, the fucking bastard, he doesn’t get to do this to me. He doesn’t get to come back into my life and expect things to be all right, because they’re not all right. “You left me when I needed you the most.”