the matter. He was running away, not setting up a life.
I was done—officially done. He could leave. Fine. I couldn’t stop him, and he already knew how I felt. But I didn’t have to stand here and help him do it.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t today.” I averted my stare and walked to the couch to grab my purse.
When he reached for my wrist to still me, I turned to meet his eyes, and his face crumbled.
“Don’t leave like this.”
I lifted my chin to tell him what I honestly felt in my gut. My voice breaking, I begged him, “Don’t leave at all.”
“You know it can’t be like that.”
He made no sense.
“This is your decision, Connor. Single-handedly yours.”
When I yanked back my hand, slipped my purse over my shoulder, and walked to the door, he yelled out, “Charlie, I love you!”
I heard the wretched brokenness in his tone, and it hit me directly in the chest. I gripped my purse strap tighter and turned to face him.
I wanted to tell him that these months had been the best months of my life. I wanted to tell him that he’d made me believe in myself again, in my ability to paint and create and have faith that others would enjoy my art. When my father had died, it’d seemed that all I’d worked hard for and done according to my craft was pushed to the side, where it wasn’t admired or sometimes even acknowledged.
I wanted to tell him that I’d never felt a love like his, and I’d never been this in love before, where my insides wanted to burst from elation from being loved by him and able to love him.
But love was unconditional. I knew this. I had grown up in a household that taught me this, and as our eyes locked, a deep, overwhelming sadness began to take over.
“And you know I love you too. But you have to stop saying those things because …” My tear ducts welled up with tears, and I blinked up to the ceiling, hoping they wouldn’t fall. “Because I know you love me, but you, right here, are telling me, I love you, Charlie, but you’re not enough to stay.”
The tears fell anyway. When I turned and placed my hand on the doorknob to leave, Connor called out to me, and by the choked way he uttered my name, I knew he was crying too.
He’d already made his decision to leave.
And I wasn’t going to help him pack up and do it.
I had more self-esteem and self-worth to know that I was enough. I might not be enough for Connor Colby, but I would be enough for someone else. I’d be enough for someone else to stay.
Connor
The next day, I was not a joy to be around. I’d packed up my office. Weirdly, being here for only a few months, I had boxes of stuff to bring to New York.
I peeked up when Kyle strolled in.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I heard World War III happened in the boardroom.”
There was an edge to my laugh. “Yeah, not my proudest moment.”
Looking back in hindsight, I wished I could have held back my temper a little bit. There had been a lot of F-bombs dropped in front of the other board members, which wasn’t exactly professional.
Kyle plopped down in his regular spot in front of my desk. “Mom and Nana gave Dad a little beating with words.”
You would think that would give me satisfaction, but it didn’t.
“So, you’re really leaving.” Kyle picked up my stapler, as though he were going to steal it.
And I placed more files into the box. “Yeah … why?” It wasn’t like he hadn’t known this.
“I didn’t think you could do it. I mean … not with Charlie here.”
At the sound of her name, my stomach dropped. My eyes flipped to meet his, and I swallowed. “She knew I was leaving from the start.”
“You didn’t see this, huh—you falling for her?”
I shook my head, focusing on the task at hand, stuffing more items into the moving box, but seeing nothing, only witnessing her tears streaming down her beautiful face when she’d left my place.
I could have predicted everything else, like the fact that my father would reject any idea I placed in front of him. But I’d never predicted Charlie.
“I’m going to miss you, big bro.”
My eyes met his then. “You need to visit more. I have a few contacts out in New York who own a couple of retail stores. You can always move