Chapter Thirty-Three
The distant ding of the elevator sounded down the hall on a muted ring of hope. Brie turned her head, her optimism long faded. The repeated ding over many hours had signaled the return of what felt like every person who lived on the floor—except Ryan.
Her heart caught, squeezed when he rounded the corner. His head was down, shoulders lowered in a dogged expression of exhaustion that soaked through her. Sympathy wound with fear, but it didn’t rouse the overstated emotions that’d consumed her when she’d arrived. Her tears had drained her energy, leaving her empty when they’d dried.
Time had muted her initial panic. Contemplation had softened her personal beratements. Logic had dulled her fears until there was only mellow acceptance left.
He’d either listen to her or not. He’d forgive or not. Understand or...not.
Her heart gave another clench at the thought. She wanted to believe that what they had was strong enough to survive her mistake, but that belief had wavered the longer she’d sat there.
He lifted his head. Slowed. Her chest tightened, held.
His guard went up with a visible tensing of muscles and flattening of his expression. Weariness lined his face, though. The weight of the day pressed on him in a way she’d never seen before. Not even after an eighty-hour work week.
He’d removed his tie at some point. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, his sleeves rolled up. His suit jacket was tossed carelessly over his shoulder. The rumpled state of his hair proclaimed the multiple hand swipes it’d endured since she’d last seen him over seven hours ago.
She swallowed, her own expression immobile. Her heart wept, though. Tears rolled from it in silent mourning for what she’d done to him.
He continued forward, his eyes never leaving hers as he approached. Nothing changed on his expression, though. Not a flicker of his thoughts came through to give her a hint of what was next. She had no idea what showed on her own face. Doubts raced, questions flew, and her fear rose once again to choke her with all she could lose.
He came to a stop beside her. Fatigue flowed off him as he stared down at her. She could only look up from her seated position and wait. Did he see how sorry she was? Did he want to hear her explanation? Her apology?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, desperation and remorse thrown into each soft word. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” But she had. The visual proof of how much tore at each little piece of her heart. “It was about me. Not you.”
The air vibrated with the awareness that never left with him. It hummed over her skin and screamed the discord. It sat on her conscience along with the guilt that’d berated her since the moment she’d dismissed him.
His sigh came from somewhere deep when it fell out. The echoing silence of the hallway magnified each hard thump of her pulse as she scrambled to interpret it.
Then his expression softened. His eyes closed. His head fell forward just a tad. Hope leaped in her chest before he turned away. That same hope crashed in a burning heap when he pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his door.
Her mouth moved, words formed, but refused to come out. Panic clashed with her growing resignation to leave her frozen. She tried to swallow, but there was nothing there. She tried to catch a breath only to come up empty.
He looked back to her, extending his hand in silent expectation. Could he... Was this... That same wonderful awareness sped down her arm to embrace her heart the second she grasped his hand.
He helped her stand, her throat parched for words that would make things right before he led her into his condo. The silence slapped out at her, but with it returned hope. The synchronized tap of their shoes on the hardwoods welcomed them into the darkness as he drew her down the hallway to the kitchen. Only there did he drop her hand.
She tried to speak again, yet the timing wasn’t right. Not now. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. That knowledge eased into her understanding on the whispered notes of comfort.
This was them.
There’d be no emotional outburst from him. No accusations or loud condemnations. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t shut her out, and he wasn’t now. He was simply collecting himself.
She owed him that time.
Relief wove through the pain binding her heart to allow a long, slow breath. He set his jacket and briefcase on a bar stool, tossed the keys on the island. He ran a hand through his hair before he moved to the fridge. The bright light glared briefly through the space when he opened the door to grab a bottle of water.
She blinked, waited.
The urban location meant that full darkness never fully descended, not with the plethora of windows in the dining and living area. She was used to this too. He often moved around the apartment using only the glow from outside.
After hours of uncertainty and dread, a tentative peace settled into her when he grabbed her hand and drew her into the living room. Sorrow was still there, along with regret, but gone was the numbing fear that she’d lost him.
He sat on the couch, head falling as he set the water aside. He seemed to sink into the cushions in a display of vulnerability he showed to so few. Did he know that? Were his defenses a conscious action or purely reflexive based on years of needing to protect himself?
She sat her purse on the coffee table and lowered herself onto the couch beside him. Another piece of her heart broke, yet it was woven into a bigger blanket of understanding. He did hurt. He did love, and he cared far more than he let anyone see.
Her love for him deepened in that moment. He had no reason for letting her into his home after the way she’d treated him, yet here she sat.
Tears stung her eyes and tickled her nose. Explanations throbbed in her throat yet in her heart, she understood he didn’t want them. Words were empty if they weren’t backed by actions.
He’d taught her that on that long-ago night when he’d wrapped his arms around her and somehow touched her heart.
She eased his hand from his lap, clasped her own around it. Warmth flooded her on contact. She inhaled, savored it. The gentle squeeze of his hand shuddered over her on another wave of relief.
Her head fell forward. Tears slid down her cheeks in a mix of gratitude and shame.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Every drop of her misery was poured into the words. She squeezed his hand, silently begging him to hear her. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I panicked. I was trying to protect you from—”
A sharp tug on her arm had her falling into him. He released her hand to wrap his arms around her, drawing her to his chest. She squeezed her eyes closed, lip quivering as she held back the sob scrambling to break free. She refused to dump that on him. Her guilt was her own to bear. Her own to resolve.
“My mother,” she mumbled against his chest.
He rubbed a hand over her hair before he lifted up to press a kiss to the top of her head. Her heart contracted around the love bursting from it. How? How had he forgiven her when she’d barely gotten an apology out?
But it flowed through her, that gentle quiet that breathed his meaning into every fiber of her being. It eased through her pain and grazed by her guilt before whispering over her heart. He loved her—still.
“Thank you,” she whispered, making a quick swipe at the tears on her cheeks.
This was love. Real love. The kind that made mistakes and forgave imperfections. The kind that understood when one stumbled and offered support instead of ridicule.
His arms tightened around her for a long beat before he released a tired exhale. His voice was low when he said, “You forgave me for something far worse.”
She frowned. “I did?”
His soft puff of amusement ghosted through her hair. “I was certain you’d never speak to me again after you found out I’d been in the Boardroom with you.”
“Oh.” She’d forgotten about that. Another wave of gratefulness crept through her. “I’m so glad I did.”
“Ditto.”
She sucked in a deep breath to fill herself with his scent that was now home to her. The light fragrance was darkened with the underpinnings of stale smoke and sweat, but it was still him.
“How long were you out there?” The deep vibration of his voice rumbled through his chest even though the words were barely audible.
“A while.” Would it help to admit she’d been there since early afternoon? No. “You wouldn’t answer your phone. Carla said you called in sick.” When he’d never done so before. That bit of information was provided to her on a questionable note and implied reprimand.
“I needed some space.”
“I know.” Which was why she’d waited. “Can I explain?”
“Will it help?”
“I don’t know.”
He dragged his hand through her hair, let it slip through his fingers. The comforting touch melted through the chill that’d gripped her to remind her how close she’d come to losing this—him.
“I deserved better than that,” he said. There was no anger in his tone, just tired truth.
“You did. You do.” She shifted around to see him. The hurt remained in his eyes, but it was littered with old pain she longed to heal. “And I will.” She sniffed back a new wave of tears.
His calm regard was almost worse than a round of angry yelling and harsh accusations. The silence exposed more of her own guilt without the relief of fake indignation or defensive walls.
“I’m sorry,” she told him one more time, the words for her as much as him. “In my head, I was protecting you. I know that sounds crazy, but my mother had her claws drawn the second she spotted us, and I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready to share you with her. Not yet. Not when—”
She bit her tongue, squeezing back her fears. When what? When... She swallowed. “When I’m ashamed of who I am with her.” There was the deep dark truth. It swarmed over her with its crushing admonishment. She hated the person she became to please her mother.
She’d been raised to believe that the person she was free to be with Ryan was the one she should be ashamed of. But she wasn’t. She’d never been, not even that very first time.
A shudder raked her, the guilt building in layers over her remorse.
“Brie.” The empathy in his voice gutted her further.
She shook her head. “No. This isn’t about me. This is about you. About what I did and how I hurt you. You never hid me. You’ve never made me feel bad about anything. Not the Boardroom. Not the wild public sex or my professional reserve or my work ethic or intelligence or our relationship or...anything.” Her voice dropped on the last word, her burst of indignation fading with it.
And with it came another note of clarity: If all of that was true, then what did she really have to hide from him?
He might have secrets in his past that she was still uncovering, but she’d been hiding her present from him, and that was so much worse. “I’ll introduce you,” she said in a rush. “You can come to brunch, or we can have coffee or—”
He laid a finger over her lips to silence her rambling. Compassion and sadness blared in his gentle touch and tender gaze as he cupped her jaw. The darkness masked the color of his eyes but not the sincerity. Each gentle swipe of his thumb on her cheek was a small stroke of acceptance and forgiveness.
“I thought you understood by now,” he whispered. “I love every part of you, Brie. Full stop.”
“But you haven’t seen all of me.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I could argue that.”
His dual implication pulled a smile from her. “I was being serious.”
“So was I.”
The fact that he could joke, that he was joking with her, was just one more thing that lifted her heart and let her believe in what they had.
“I’ll meet your parents when you’re ready.” He brushed his lips over hers. The impact rammed through her to obliterate the crushing weight of her admission. He searched her for a long moment before he sat back, drawing her down with him until she was cuddled against his chest once again. The steady beat of his heart slowed her own until she finally relaxed into the calm.
“I don’t ask for much,” he said after a while, his soothing strokes on her arm never stopping. “I expect even less. My parents ensured that I understood nothing was freely given, even love. Especially love.” He huffed a bitter laugh before he went on. “I’m going to make mistakes too. I’m going to react based on my past, and you’re going to have to remind me that this is the present.”
“Is that what happened?” she asked. “My rejection reminded you of theirs?”
He was silent for a moment before a low “yes” came out.
The admission added another punch to her guilt. “I honestly didn’t intend that.”
“I know.” He drew his fingers through his hair in that absent way she loved. “But it still hurt. And,” he went on before she could apologize again, “it took me a while to sort through it.”
“Where’d you go?”
“To a bar.”
She frowned. “You don’t smell like liquor.”
“I didn’t drink.” He took a breath. “I wanted to. I thought about it. But I promised myself I would never be him.” Contempt edged his tone as he spit out the last words. “Only to wonder if I’d become a shinier version of the same bastard.”
His self-deprecating snort cut through the room. There was that hurt boy she wanted to hug and soothe. She was years too late to reach the boy. But the man...she had him.
“Why would you think that?” she probed.
“In case you missed it, I’m not really known for my warm and shining personality.” Sarcasm laced every word and brought a smile to her lips.
“You’re plenty warm with me,” she told him, serious. “But I’m not so sure about the shiny part. Can you describe it for me?”
He swatted her hip in joking reprimand. “Behave.”
“But if I’d done that, we wouldn’t be here right now.” And that thought brought a wave of thanks to her mother. Without her dogged demand for perfection, Brie never would’ve dared to be imperfect.
“On second thought...” He slid her around so quickly she could only gasp and hang on until her back was on the couch. That devious grin she loved curled over his lips as he came down on top of her. “Go ahead.” He claimed her mouth in a long, slow kiss that took away the doubts and fears that’d festered all day. His breath heated her lips when he whispered, “Be very, very naughty, Brie. I’ll be right here with you.”
And he was. He had been since she’d made that wild, daring step into the Boardroom, and he was still here. “Thank you,” she whispered. For loving me. For understanding me. For letting me be Brie.
He dropped another kiss on her lips, the touch so gentle, so tender it spoke directly to her heart before he whispered back, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her grin lit up her face as she drew him into a kiss, beyond grateful they’d found each other. She’d gone into this crazy wild adventure under the safety of blindness, only to be grateful for how much Ryan saw.
But she saw him too, and she’d never let him doubt that again.