Honor

Chapter 76

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

E vie

I stare at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. He must sense that because he repeats it, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I say because those words have been living in my heart for weeks. “I do love you.”

He kisses me softly. It’s tender and contains just a whisper of what I now know he feels for me. “I need to explain about Charlotte and Randall because I get why you thought I was a ruthless bastard the other day.”

“Well, to be fair, I’ve thought you were a ruthless bastard at other times, too.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Understood.”

“I know Vidori is the most important thing to you.” I take a breath as soon as the words rush out of me.

Still holding my face in his hands, he looks into my eyes. “It was for a very long time. You’re most important now. You. Just you.”

Speechless, I feel my bottom lip tremble from pure emotion.

He kisses me again. “I spoke to Randall right before I came here. I told him about my plans to buy out Azelius and Emmel’s. I tried to tell him I no longer wanted either because those deals would always be a reminder of the first time I let you down.”

Stunned by that, I take a deep breath. “You’re willing to pass on big deals like that for me?”

“You’re most important,” he repeats. “That’s never going to change.”

“Okay.” I smile. “I’m most important.”

He nods. “As it turns out, Randall understood it all from a business aspect, but neither of those companies is leaving our favorite couples’ hands.”

“No?”

“Randall’s sisters will run the spa. Charlotte and Randall are going to work together at Emmel’s.”

I’m tempted to tell him that could mean I’ll end up leaving Vidori to work at Emmel’s when my contract expires, but this is not the time. Besides, nothing is set in stone yet.

“I’m happy for them,” I say, and then expand on that, “I’m happy for everything for them. The wedding, the house next door, and that they’ll build Emmel’s into what Charlotte envisions together.”

“I’m happy for them, too.”

I glance at his face, noting how brilliantly blue his eyes are. “How does it feel to be here, Reid? In this house?”

His chest heaves slightly when he exhales. “Strange.”

“How so?” I press, curious to understand every emotion he’s feeling.

“I come here very infrequently.” He punctuates that with a tap of his fingertip on the face of his watch. “The last time was months ago, maybe even a year ago.”

I can’t say I’m surprised. The home must contain so many memories that once he steps inside, he feels suffocated by them.

“Being here with you is different, though.” He reaches for both of my hands. “This may sound ridiculous, but I feel safe here today. I’m not overwhelmed. I’m not as sad as I usually am.”

I squeeze his hands. “I’m glad.”

He glances around the room. “I didn’t move a thing after my grandmother died. Wait, that’s not true. I did move one thing.”

I don’t say a word because I can see he has something to add.

“She always put her earrings in this small glass bowl on the bathroom shelf each night before bed,” he explains. “I took one home with me to keep in my bathroom the day after she died. That happened about a year after Buzzy’s heart attack.”

My heart aches at the reminder of the single earring sitting in the dish in his bathroom at home. It’s a reminder of his grandmother. Her death came so soon after he lost his grandpa.

I ask a question that I suspect I know the answer to. “Is that what you called your grandfather? Buzzy?”

“Yes.” He acknowledges with a faint nod. “Everyone called him that. He died on his way home from work. Someone on the subway recognized him and called my grandma. I think a piece of her heart died that day, and she never recovered.”

I close my eyes to ward off the rush of emotions I feel. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words feel insufficient. There’s so much that I want to say, but I don’t know how to express any of it.

“In many ways, losing them was almost harder than losing my parents,” he admits. “I hate that I didn’t fully appreciate my grandparents when they were alive.”

“Sometimes death sharpens the lens,” I repeat what my mom said to me after a friend’s pet died when I was a kid. I didn’t understand the wisdom of the statement then, but I think I do now.

“It sure as hell did for me.” He glances at me. “I’d give almost anything to have one final day with Buzzy. I’d spend every second of it holding his hand and telling him what he meant to me.”

I squeeze his hand again. “You can tell me what he meant to you. I know it’s not the same, but I’d love to hear all about him.”

“You’re coming home with me,” he tells me as we exit the house. “I insist, Evie.”

“I’d like that.” I have my key out of my pocket before his is in his hand. “I’ll lock up.”

He doesn’t say a word as he watches me secure both locks on the front door. In what is likely an unnecessary move, I reach over to flip open the lid of the rusty mailbox to check inside. The movement is too much for the last remaining nail. It slides out, and the box tumbles to the ground.

Horrified, I almost push Reid off the concrete steps in my rush to grab the mailbox to check for damage.

His laughter fills the night air. “It’s a goner, Evangeline.”

I scoop it up and assess it. He’s right. What I didn’t notice earlier is that the bottom of the mailbox is covered in so much rust that there are a few gaping holes in it. “I’ll get a new one.”

I expect him to tell me not to bother, but he nods. “A new mailbox for the new paint job.”

Still holding the mailbox, I look up at him. “The house is getting a new paint job?”

“New paint, a new roof.” He descends the concrete steps until he’s standing next to me. “You’ll help me put together a list of what the house needs to bring it back to its former glory.”

I love that he’s not asking. He’s not ordering me to do it, either. It’s a clear assumption that I’ll help. He’s right. I will. “Of course. Do you have plans for the house, Reid? Will you sell it once it’s fixed up?”

“I do have plans.” He scans the exterior of the house again. “None of them include selling.”

I don’t press for more because he’ll tell me when the time is right. All I can hope for is that his plan for this house somehow includes us.

Us. I could definitely get used to that.