Page 64 of The Forbidden Bride He Stole

“From what? You cared for every single person in your life diligently. Without fail. You are one of the truest, most loving people that I know. If you need redemption, if you need forgiveness, it is not from anyone around you. It’s from you, Apollo. I think you might be the only one yet who is not confident you deserve love.”

“She said I was too much for her.”

“Did she say that?”

“She was afraid she could not handle me.”

“Listen to her. Don’t take it personally. Listen to what that says about her own feelings. I love my wife, and she came with her own specific set of baggage. Sometimes her baggage and mine don’t play nicely. And when that happens, she has to listen to me, to where I’m coming from and why I might take something a certain way when she doesn’t. And I have to do the same for her. What is she really afraid of? I sincerely doubt it’s you and your brokenness. She’s probably afraid of loving you more than you love her.”

“I don’t want to live without her.” He felt like he was staring into an abyss. “I am actually tempted to go and walk off a pier.”

“Please don’t do that. Please think about what you’re saying to me. All the things in your life are worth less without her in it. What do you think that is?”

“I didn’t like the café I went to in Paris because I wantedherthere.”

“If you don’t even like a croissant without her there to taste it with you, I think you can pretty safely say you’re in love.”

“What do I do?”

Cameron laughed. “Apollo, you and I have been through some pretty hideous things. One thing we always did, though, was fight. To live, to grow, to have more. To have better. Don’t fight any less for the woman you love than you would have for money.”

“But... Money is only money. This is...”

“Nothing less than your whole heart. Perhaps you are too much for her. Perhaps you are damaged. But it would be better if you were honest. And said that you love her anyway. And then let her decide.”

“That sounds painful.”

“It probably is. But you should do it anyway. Because the alternative is... Wanting to walk into the sea.”

His friend hung up then, and he simply stood there. He wandered the streets until the sky turned gray. And he found himself standing in front of St. Patrick’s, just as the doors opened for the day.

There was no early entry or VIP. He came in with everybody else who was waiting to take their place before they went to work.

He thought of what Cameron had said to him, and as he walked deeper into the cathedral old words from his childhood echoed through him. He did know an explanation of love. It was patient and kind. It didn’t envy, it wasn’t boastful. It wasn’t self-seeking. It didn’t keep track of wrongdoing. It had seemed, to him, a list of impossible tasks. To love like that was to die to everything within yourself. And nobody could do that all the time. And what he had always seen as a barrier suddenly made sense to him. Every person in the whole world would fall short of such an ideal. People did it anyway. They loved and gave love imperfectly anyway always.

A shaft of sunlight came through one of the impossibly blue stained-glass windows, and it was like a light coming on in his soul. He was broken. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t love.

Cameron was right. He always had. The thing that had caused him to be the worst versions of himself were his denials of love. Considering manipulating her, making her his through blackmail, that didn’t come from love, but from his need to deny it. His need to protect himself.

He knelt down on one of the cushioned benches, his legs just giving out. And that was when he heard footsteps behind him. A figure knelt down beside him, and he turned. Hannah.

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. And then she pressed her head to his shoulder, her body shaking as sobs racked her figure. He held her. Until the storm between them subsided, because his own rose up like rain and poured from him just as it did her.

“It seemed like the right place to go,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he whispered. There were no declarations then, no words.

It was a prayer between them. And it joined all the hope, sorrow, and faith that had already sunk into these old stone walls. And something about that made him feel new.

They stayed there like that for a long time, and then he took her hand and brought her to her feet, leading her back outside. They had been in a cocoon in there, and all the silence dissolved the minute they were back outside, people on foot rushing around them, trying to get to work.

“There’s a lot to say,” she said. “But I suppose the most important thing is that I love you.”

He closed his eyes, and he felt it. That he didn’t have to wonder anymore. What it meant. “I love you too,” he said.

She didn’t argue or bring up the fact that he’d said he couldn’t do that. He appreciated it. But he wanted to explain anyway. “I couldn’t understand the idea of love because I had decided that no one could love me. And that no one should. I am deeply ashamed of the things I’ve done. I felt like I had broken myself. That everything that was wrong with me was something I had done. It was a pain I had caused. And that meant I didn’t deserve to be healed. If I had just gotten a job when I ran away from my mother, I would just be one of the many people in this world who had a parent that neglected them. I didn’t. I made a different choice. The choices I made hurt me. They left me feeling used, they left me feeling assaulted. They left me detached from myself, and most of all, ashamed. I could not fathom love because I cannot fathom anyone loving me.”

She shook her head. “I do. And I’m sorry. You were never too much for me. I needed... I needed to know you could love me. Because I spent so many years being lonely. While everyone prioritized their own needs over mine, I just needed to know I wouldn’t be lonely like that again. I’m sorry I said you were too broken. I love you broken. I just want you to love me broken too.”

---