17
ANYWHERE
My hands shook, fluttering the letter like a leaf in the wind.
Directly in front of me was a door. Faded green, battered metal. To either side of the door was a narrow window of reinforced safety glass. So dirty as to be nearly opaque. Yet I could just barely see through it, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of believing what I saw on the other side. A long, low shape. A car.
I stood slowly, the letter fluttering to the threadbare carpet of the stairs. A step down, a second, a third and a fourth. The cold metal knob twisting in my fist. Hesitating, a riot of conflicting emotions giving me pause.
Behind me, a door opened. “Key? You get lost out here? I saw your car pull up, but you never came in—” Layla’s voice couldn’t break through my trance, but I heard her nonetheless. I heard her steps on the stair, heard paper rustle as she picked up the letter. Moments passed, long enough for her to skim it. “Ho-ly shit. ‘Embroiled in the beauty of your soul.’ Who the hell says something like that?”
I heard her come down the stairs, felt her beside me. My hand shook as I gripped the knob, yet I couldn’t open the door. “Roth,” I whispered. “That’s the kind of thing Valentine says to me.”
“Goddamn. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” She peered out the window. “Is that—? It is! That guy! Harry! He’s out there.” Layla stared at me in horror. “Girl, I love you. You’re my sister, the only family I give two shits about. But if you don’t get your fine white ass out that door, I swear to Jesus, Mary, and all the saints that I’ll never forgive you.”
“You think I should go with him?”
Layla put her hand to my forehead as if checking for a fever. “Kyrie. Babe. He’s embroiled in the beauty of your soul. Of course you should go with him. You’d be a fool not to.”
She pushed the door open and shoved me through it. I was force-marched by my best friend over to the long, white Bentley limousine. She waved to Harris. “Hey, there, Harry. She’s just nervous.”
Harris frowned. “Miss St. Claire. Miss Campari.”
Layla kept marching me directly to the passenger door. Harris just barely got there in time to open the door for us. “Miss Campari, I don’t think you should—”
“It’s fine, Harry. I just want to see my girl off.”
“My name is Harris.”
Layla eyed him up and down. “Sure it is.” She took my face in her hands, squishing my cheeks. “This is what you want. Give yourself permission to have it.”
I stared into Layla’s eyes for a long moment, then, tearing up, pulled her in for a hug. “What would I do without you, Layla?”
“I really don’t know, but it’s a good thing you don’t have to find out, isn’t it?” Layla squeezed me one more time, then pushed away. “Now go. Before I whack you upside the head and take your place, you lucky bitch.”
I licked my lips, hesitating still, knowing that if I got into the car, everything would change again. Yet…it already had. It had just taken me a long time to catch up. But really, there was no other choice.
I clutched at Layla’s hand. “Thanks.”
This time, she didn’t make a snarky comment. She just smiled at me and nodded.
I met Harris’s eyes briefly, seeing relief in them. “Miss St. Claire. I’m glad to see you.” He nodded at me.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just smiled at him as steadily as I could. I didn’t know what was happening. Was Roth really in this car? Or was I about to embark on another mysterious journey to who knows where? It was near the end of September, and I remembered him saying he traveled from September to November.
In the end, all I could do was duck my head and slide into the soft cream leather. I honestly didn’t expect to see Roth. Yet there he was, at the far end of the car, breathtaking in khaki chinos and a forest-green Henley, the sleeves pulled up around his elbows, the fabric stretched tight across his chest and molded to his broad arms.
“Valentine….” I breathed. My chest was tight, my lungs refusing to work properly, my heart pounding like tribal drum.
I saw Layla out of the corner of my eye, peeking in to get a glimpse of Valentine. “Holy shit. You were right, Key.” She pecked me on the cheek, and then winked at Valentine. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I can keep a secret.” And then she was gone, but not before leaving my letter from Roth on my lap.
Roth didn’t move for several seconds. The door closed, and then I heard the driver’s-side door swing up and close. The engine was a gentle, distant rumble, the sense of motion vague. His eyes were windows to the sky, blue and pale, but they were guarded.
Neither of us spoke for nearly five minutes.
Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. I lifted the letter. “What you wrote in here…you really meant it?”
His brow furrowed. “Of course.”
“You said…you said you love me.” I didn’t dare look away from him, didn’t dare move or breathe.
“I do. Deeply.” He said it so casually, as if that wasn’t the most impossible, inexplicable thing in the world. As if hearing him say that didn’t rock me to the core.
His eyes were hot and intense on mine, flicking back and forth, searching, hoping. Yet his body language was hard and closed off, arms crossed over his chest, one leg hooked over the other.
“I don’t…I don’t know what to say, what to do.” I tried a deep breath, let it out shakily. “I’ve been…so mixed up, Roth. Nothing makes any sense. I can’t let go of what…what happened. What you told me. Yet I can’t let go of you, either.” I stopped, expecting him to say something.
“Go on,” was all he said.
I cleared my throat, folding the letter and idly sliding my finger along the creases. “There’s something I probably should tell you. Something that…that was true before you told me about my father.” I kept my gaze locked on his, refusing to even blink. “I love you.”
He let out a long sigh. “You love me.”
I nodded. “Yes. But I—I don’t know how to reconcile that with everything else. I lost my father because…because of you. I know it was an accident, and I believe everything you told me. But I’m still…messed up about it. A little angry, I guess. I mean, I struggled. I suffered, Roth. Alone, scared, barely making it. Trying to be an adult when I should’ve been a clueless college girl, getting drunk with my sorority and hooking up with frat boys. But none of that changes how I feel about you.” I set the letter aside. “I’ve been in circles about this over and over. And the only conclusion I can come to is that…I belong to you. I just don’t know where we go from here. I…I don’t know how to resolve this. I love you, Valentine. I do. I want to be with you, but I just don’t know if—if I can.”
Roth didn’t answer for several long moments. Finally, he slid across the seat until he was beside me. “I won’t let you go again, Kyrie. I will not. I can’t change the past. I would if I could. I would give away every cent of my fortune if it meant sparing you the pain you’ve endured. But I can’t do that. All I can do is make you a promise.” He paused for effect, his gaze roiling with emotion. He took my face in his hands. “I love you. That’s not the promise, though, that’s just a statement. The promise is this: I will do everything in my power to make this right between us. To make it work. I can’t change the past, but I can shape the future. I can shape our future. Whatever that looks like, whatever it takes, wherever it takes us, I will love you and I will be there for you.” His lips met mine, kissed me gently, deeply.
When we pulled apart, I looked into Roth’s eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. Truth. Honesty. Vulnerability. I’d been blindfolded the first time I met Valentine. I’d had no idea what I was getting myself into. This time was different. This time, I had my eyes wide open.
THE END