Page 15 of Beards and Broken Hearts

“So, we have choices,” she tells me, pulling me out of my comfortable seat and pushing me down the hall toward the door that leads to the cellar.

“I could handle a few bottles. Daphne doesn’t have to come down there,” I protest, but Grandma already pushing the poor woman through the door frame. Daphne looks over her shoulder, already on the steps, and shrugs. Her eyes seem to say, let’s just get this over with.

“I don’t mind helping,” she says awkwardly, likely not excited at the thought of being alone with me. Not that I can blame her.

We descend the stairs, and I hit the light switch that aluminates the entire cellar. It’s a huge space spanning the width of the house. Daphne takes slow steps toward the many aisles of wine racks, peering at the tags.

“It’s a bit overwhelming, I know. My grandfather was truly passionate about his wines. He spent countless hours building this cellar and collecting his favorites from all over the world. But he rarely ever drank them.”

“That’s amazing,” she says, continuing to scan the bottle labels. She stops and turns to me. “I was sorry to hear about his passing, Layton,” she whispers, as if she knows it’s a sore subject.

Her kind words cause a familiar ache in my chest. “Thanks, Daphne.”

She smiles sadly, and it strikes me that I have her all to myself right now, and the words of apology I had swimming in my head last night come forth, just as jumbled as ever. I clear my throat, anxiety brewing in my gut. But I feel like if I don’t give her some kind of explanation right now, I’m going to combust from the tension alone.

“Listen, Daphne, I owe you a lot more than an ‘I’m sorry’ for how things ended between us, but I feel like I should start there. I am truly so sorry for hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Layton. You had your grandma do it for you,” she says in a calm, gentle tone that fills my stomach with sludge.

I nod, feeling the bile rise, but keep going.

“I’m sorry I was such a coward, then. Truth be told, I never wanted things to end between us, but when my grandfather died, I didn’t take it well.”

She listens intently, and I decide I owe her the truth. “We were out fishing together on the dock when he suddenly had a heart attack. At that moment, everything changed for me. I shut down emotionally and pushed everyone away. If it weren't for already graduating, I would have failed that too, because I really didn’t care. That was my attitude for the following years - not giving a single fuck about anyone or anything. Eventually, I managed to pull myself together, but even then, I couldn't stop thinking about you. But I couldn't face you after how terribly I had treated you. A part of me believed you would never forgive me, so I didn't even try to reach out. I want you to know that my feelings for you were always genuine back then, Daphne. You were constantly on my mind, and I never lied to you. It's something that I deeply regret now - not coming back to make things right with you. I was an asshole, and I am truly sorry for everything. You deserved better.”

She stares at me for what seems like hours but is probably only minutes. Maybe even seconds. Long enough to raise my blood pressure and make my hands sweat. I just hope that what I said, or even bringing it up again, doesn’t make her feel sad all over again. It’s true what I said. I’ve never lied to her. She’s the only woman on this earth I’ve ever loved, and I know I royally fucked up. I just hope my words can give her some peace because she was never anything but good to me, and I hate that I never went back to her. She expected me that summer, and all I did was drink nonstop at my cousin’s house. The following year wasn’t much different.

But I never stopped thinking about her. Never let myself move onto any real relationships with a woman because part of me was still in love with Daphne. Looking at her now, at the emotions swirling in her eyes, makes me want to walk up and take her in my arms. My fingers itch to touch her skin. I’ve gotten little to no sleep since the night her bird attacked me, and she stormed back into my life like a freight train. Even if she hates me, I’m done denying it. I’m happy to see her again. I haven’t felt this alive since I said goodbye to her all those years ago. When I promised to go back and that we’d live the rest of our lives together. I broke my own heart when I didn’t keep that promise, and I’ve been damaged ever since. Now I stand here, a broken man, waiting for her to say something, anything to fix my broken pieces or leave me to rot without her for the rest of my life.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that. It’s one thing to lose him. It’s another to watch him leave like that.”

She’s sorry? My heart pulls so tight in my chest I reach for it as if I could keep it from exploding. But rubbing my chest doesn’t help. It’s words I needed to get out.

I laugh, but emotion is lodged in my throat. “It’s not your fault. None of what I did was.”

“Thank you for telling me. I forgive you, Layton.”

My eyes shoot from my boots to lock on hers. Daphne’s calm and serious without an ounce of pity, just understanding and genuine forgiveness that I don’t deserve.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I’m starting to understand more, and besides, we were kids,” she says with a shrug, as if it’s all in the past. Is everything in the past, though?

I take a deep breath and let it out. Letting the tension fall away. Her words sink into my bones and make me feel her kindness wash over me. I don’t deserve it, but I’ll take it. I never thought she’d forgive me, but she did. Still, is it too much to hope she might want more from me again? I guess there’s only one way to find out.

CHAPTER NINE

Daphne

We bang against the door with no response from the other side. After our much-needed heart-to-heart, a talk I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for since I was eighteen, we grabbed two bottles of wine each and climbed the stairs. When we made it to the top, the door was locked.

“Grandma, this isn’t funny! Open up!” Layton shouts.

“We talked. It’s all good,” I add.

Layton continues to beat the door, but after a few minutes, I get tired of standing, so I climb down the stairs and sit on the couch next to a bunch of barrels.

“I have a feeling we’re going to have to wait her out on this one,” I yell to Layton, and he finally gives up and joins me. To my surprise, he sits beside me on the couch, not in the nearby chair. Things feel strange between us now. There’s genuinely no more animosity between us, and yet we’re still strangers in a way. We haven’t known each other in so long. We’ve changed and grown into the people we are now, and I’ll admit I want to know this version of him.

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