Chapter Thirty-Four
CALLIE
I hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that—hadn’t meant to bring Stephanie into this conversation at all. But how could I not? She was the woman Davis had pledged his life to, and she was my opposite in every way that mattered.
“Don’t blame Vivian, Davis. She’s not wrong to want a suitable mother for her grandson. And I’m not too proud to admit that I fall short of that definition by a mile. I’ve known it my entire life.” Adrenaline pumped through my heart. “While Clem made daisy-chain wedding rings and doodled her favorite baby name in notebooks, I found my contentment in artistic solitude and nature”—I gestured to the garden surrounding us—“and you know what? Everything was working out just fine for me. I was fine—happy, even. I wasn’t looking for any of this. I never wanted a family of my own.” Until you.
He pointed at my chest. “That’s because you’re afraid of what you want.”
His words shoved me backward, silencing me momentarily.
“What you call artistic solitude, I call fear. That’s the root of it anyway—the reason you never stick around long enough to deal with the consequences of your loving-and-leaving routine.” He pelted me with a look that made my insides shiver. “The only thing that limits you from having a family of your own is the lifestyle you’ve chosen.”
Indignation thrummed in my ears. “My lifestyle is about freedom—being free to choose, free to create, free to love.”
“Free to love?” His husky laugh caused goose bumps to scatter down my spine. “For someone so in tune with everybody else’s feelings, you’re standing in a blind spot when it comes to yourself.” He held up the glasses I’d given him earlier. “Maybe you’re the one who needs these, not me.”
I pointed at him, my hand a trembling accusation. “And maybe you’re the one who needs to take a harder, more realistic look at the future—at what’s best for your son.”
His eyes narrowed into calculated slits. “Despite what you may suspect, I didn’t suddenly forget I was a single father the minute you rolled into town. There was no oversight when it came to Brandon, or lack of forethought by me. Just the opposite, actually.”
Davis’s focus was so intent, so insistent, that I couldn’t glance away.
“It was your increased interest and concern for my son—the way you treated him with kindness and compassion and respect, the way you joked and laughed and understood parts of him that I can’t—that obliterated any doubt in my mind that you are exactly the kind of woman I want in my son’s life. And in mine.” He edged closer. “Falling in love with you was not happenstance.”
Fighting against the acidic burn at the base of my throat, I began to pace the length of the bench, my sandaled feet crushing apple blossom petals and waxy maple leaves. “I told you before I don’t do long term.”
“And I told you that was an excuse. Just because you’ve never done something doesn’t mean you can’t. The question you should be asking yourself has nothing to do with your capability and everything to do with what you really want. Because the freedom you’re pursuing, Callie—you’re never going to find it by running away. You have to be willing to explore what’s in here.” He thumped his chest. “That’s where true freedom is found.”
His words were such a blatant contradiction to the warning that had played and replayed in my mind for so many years. Closing my eyes, I pushed against the image of my father crouched before me, his smooth, freckled hands wrapped tightly around my elbows, his raspy voice a violent tug on my heart as he gave his final benediction: “And remember this—always remember this: For us, there is nothing more important than our freedom. Not even love.”
I could scarcely breathe when I opened my eyes again. Why couldn’t Davis see I was a liability? “I don’t want to hurt you and Brandon.”
The steadfastness of his expression chipped at the ache in my chest. “But you will. Just like we’ll hurt you. It’s impossible to love someone and never feel pain. They’re a packaged deal.” He stepped closer. “But when you’re committed to loving someone—you figure out how to work through the hard times. The painful times. Your sister’s marriage is a prime example.”
“Marriage?” My throat went dry as I recalled Vivian’s statement about a future proposal. “Davis, I’m so far from ready to even think about that type of commitment!”
“Do you see me down on bended knee? No. We’re just talking. This is what people do in relationships. They talk about the future.” He raked a hand through his hair, his tone both dejected and defensive. “But I guess you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because you’re out the door before the word future can even be uttered. Driving to a new city. Looking for a new project to fix.”
I didn’t miss the way he emphasized the word project. “No—that’s not what this has been, not what you’ve been to me.”
But I could tell by his silence, by the disbelief clouding his gaze and the rigid set of his shoulders, that nothing I could say now could bandage up the wound I’d inflicted.
“Davis, I promise you, you’ve meant more to me than . . .” Colors swirled in my vision as air pressed from my lungs. I could no sooner imagine leaving this man and his son behind than I could imagine never picking up a paintbrush again. But I also couldn’t give him what he wanted. I’d already made a vow—to myself.
I inched closer as an unfamiliar compromise leaped from my throat. “Maybe we can just agree to stop talking about the future for now, then. Let’s just go back a few steps to when we were friends and see how things go from there.”
He stared out at the water, saying nothing for so long my throat began to burn with unshed tears. “I’ve played the wait-and-see game before, and I’m not willing to play it again. Not with you. Not when the consolation prize is a postcard with my name on it.”
I couldn’t swallow the devastation I felt at his words.
Achingly slow, he trailed his gaze back to mine. “I love you, Callie. More than I ever believed I could love any woman on this earth again. But I won’t be the only one who chooses this relationship. Not when you refuse to choose anything at all.”
“So you’re saying you’d rather me leave Lenox than . . . than take a step back?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
All summer long I’d watched Davis make compromise after compromise, and now, when I needed one—when I was practically begging for one—he wouldn’t budge. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shifted to face the koi pond once again, but not before I spotted the sheen of moisture in his eyes.