Page 126 of The Dravenhearst Brides
He froze. “I told you to leave. To run fast and far.”
“Those are the words of a coward.”
He flinched.
“You want me to run because it proves you were right all along, that you’re alone and unloved, and therefore, unlovable. It’s an excuse. You excuse yourself from the hard parts, withdraw to prevent being hurt. But life is messy.” She flicked her wrist, knocking another cat to the floor. “My heart may break, but I am not broken. I’ve never needed you to fix me, Merrick. It’s notfixingI need.” She took a deep breath. “I have only ever neededyou.”
“But why?” he asked, whispering.
“Why does the earth need rain?”
He smiled. A small one. Half a dimple.
“Why does your bourbon need the barrel?”
He grinned fully this time, big and wide.
“Some things,” she finished, “are just supposed to be together. To make each other better. Stronger.”
Merrick picked up the quartz clock on the mantel. He flipped it over in his hand. “If I could turn back time, I would do so many things differently. I would love you differently. Better.”
She caught her breath at the words.
“I’m still learning.” He glanced up at her before dropping the clock. It shattered at his feet, freezing time. “But I’m here, and I’m looking. And what I see isn’t broken. It’s beautiful.”
When his lips closed down over hers, she believed him. She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t hysterical. She wasn’t weak.
She was none of those things so many men before him had told her, had made her believe.
Somehow, he’d seen. And in being seen—exactly as she was—he made her whole.
“It’s not you, Margot, it’s me. I’m the one who’s mad,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m positively mad for you.”
42
December 2, 1933
Samuel,
I have taken the liberty of responding to your letter on Margot’s behalf. It is with a heavy heart I share this news: we are no longer expecting a baby.
Physically, Margot is recovering and doing well, but you can imagine the strain this has caused us both. Your correspondence always means so much to Margot, but I simply could not bear for her to write this note herself.
I couldn’t say it to you with honor and integrity back in June, but I can say it to you now—I’m in love with your daughter, Samuel. So although this letter shares great loss, it shares even greater love. I hope you find comfort in that. I certainly do, every day.
Both Margot and I hope we will be able to visit soon.
Sincerely,
MerrickDravenhearst
Inthedark,dark,dark of the moonless night, they came.
They came as they always did, amidst plummeting temperatures and the quiet slither of silk skirts. From his position at the foot of the bed, Beau growled.
“Look how she sleeps in his arms,” Babette murmured, shaking her head.
“Look how quickly she forgives him,” Eleanor added, tapping her slippered foot.
