Page 62 of Ms. Fortune

I don’t know why I brought that up first. It’s going to drag us right down to the bottom line of our problems. I had time this morning to figure out how open I want to be, and it’s absolutely all the way. This will either stand or fall with all my cards on the table. I’m not holding back.

“Because I came home from New York to find your blood on the driveway.” My chest constricts, remembering Taylor pointing it out to me. My blood had chilled and then burned at the sight. “The sanctity of that house was violated, and you were hurt there. I don’t want that reminder.”

She gets an odd look on her face that I can’t read but nods. “Okay. That makes sense, I guess.” Her brow furrows with worry. “Will you find another place? Or…?” She cuts off, not listing options.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. I have some traveling I need to do for business coming up, so I’ll have time to think about it.”

She nods again but doesn’t say anything else. This is not how I pictured this going at all.

“Normandy, I’m just going to put everything out there, and if you listen to everything I have to say and then tell me to get lost, I will. But I won’t be able to move forward without telling you some things, okay?” I indicate for us to sit back down at the table.

She sits across from me and says quietly, “I’m listening, Brandon.”

The knots of anxiety in my chest loosen a little, knowing that I’ve got this chance.

“First, I have to tell you that I know I was wrong. I never should have promised you anything I didn’t know for sure I could deliver. I don’t know if it was hubris, ego, overconfidence, or who knows what. I should have been realistic and honest with you about the situation. Not that I lied, because I didn’t lie. I would never lie to you. But I didn’t understand the reality of the problem and thought I had it under control. I was obviously wrong. So, that’s the first thing; I was wrong. I know I was wrong. I am an idiot and am incredibly sorry for being so wrong about something so important like your safety.”

She doesn’t say anything or move a muscle. Just stares at me with blank dark eyes, taking in everything I say. So, I go on.

“Second, I never should have left you alone to face everything on your own. I should have been here with you and not selfishly all the way across the country, covering my own ass while you were nearly killed because of my stupidity and ignorance. I am going to regret that decision for the rest of my life. I do regret that so much more than I could ever express to you.”

Her eyes are welling up with unshed tears, and I dare to reach across and take one of her hands in mine. Her fingers are cold, so I fold them into mine to warm up.

“Lastly, I am in love with you, Normandy. I don’t know when it happened, but I don’t care either. I just know that I’m there. I can’t picture my future without you in it. When we heard that gunshot, and I thought you were dead, my life was over. All I had in front of me were shadows of what life was supposed to be like. Even now, I can’t sleep. All I see when I close my eyes is you hurt, scared to death, and alone, and I can’t get to you because I’m too far away.” I shudder thinking of it. “I don’t want to live without you.”

The tears finally overflow and start to run down her cheeks, and it kills me that I have any part in their falling, that I am any cause for her pain. I reach up and wipe the tears away with my thumb.

“Tell me if there is anything I can say or do to fix this because I will do it. I will do anything to repair the damage I’ve done. But if you really have no feelings for me or want nothing more to do with me, then tell me. It’s not what I want to hear, obviously, but I will respect your decision either way.”

She stays quiet for a long time, staring at our connected hands. The tears have stopped, but I can’t tell what she’s feeling now. I’ve said my peace, and regardless of what happens next with us, I’ll know that I tried my best.

“I can’t sleep either,” she says, still not tearing her gaze away from our hands. “I jump at the slightest noise. Chelsie had to move in with me since I’m too scared to be alone. And I’ve started seeing a therapist to help with all that since I’m such a mess.”

“Don’t say that. You are not a mess. Anyone who went through what you endured would have the same issues. But I’m glad you’re talking about it to someone. I hope it’s helping.”

“It’s going to be a process. There is something that I’ve already figured out, though.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I don’t blame you. I know you did everything you possibly could to save me. Right after it happened, I needed someone to direct my anger at, and you made the most sense to me at the time. I had blinders on to anything bad that could happen and bought into your confidence. Because I wanted to believe the platitudes. I should have been realistic, knowing it would never go as smoothly as we hoped. That was a pipe dream. I can’t blame you for my choices.”

“I am ready, willing, and able to accept any and all blame if it means we can start over.” I can feel the undertow of the tide shift around us, and a glimmer of hope bubbles to the surface. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Well, you need to stop blaming yourself too. It’s not helpful.”

“The best I can do is work on that.”

She squeezes my fingers. “That’s a good start.”

“What else?” Now that we’ve chosen the road less traveled, I want to map it out.

“There’s something we never really talked about before.”

“What’s that?” We’ve had a lot of great discussions. I can’t imagine something major that we missed.

“Well, you primarily live in New York, and I live here. And now you’re selling your house…How are we going to make this work?”

My heartbeat picks up. We’re talking logistics. This is fantastic.

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