Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I want to reach for him and tug him against me, but I hold back. “What do you mean?”
He motions with his hand. “By leaving behind everything that’s important.”
“Are we talking about the boat?”
“And the house. But most of all, you.” He dips his head. “I’m so fucking sorry for making your life miserable.”
“Babe, we’ve been through this. None of this has been intentional.”
“No, but…” He puffs out a breath. “Being back in LA made me realize…that I don’t want to be without you anymore.”
“Neither of us ever wanted that.” My heart thumps wildly. “But life is more complicated than that. Love is too.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t’ve been.” He briefly balls a fist, then releases it. “I could never fully fathom that my family has a history here. I never felt like I was part of that legacy. But cleaning out my grandfather’s house made me appreciate him more, appreciate this place.”
“I’ve always hoped you’d get to that point. After all, you kept your family name, even if you thought it was for different reasons.” When his lips part, the tightness in my chest lifts briefly. “But nothing I said seemed to convince you that you belong here.”
“You’re right. I couldn’t see it. Or, at least, I wouldn’t let myself see it.” He stares into the distance. “Then it hit me that I don’t belong in LA either.”
I frown. “No, I don’t believe you do.”
His eyes spring to mine. “Why didn’t you tell me that? You made it seem like I needed to leave in order to—”
“Because you do belong in theater in some way, shape, or form.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Your acting is great, and LA has the most opportunities to help fulfill your dreams.”
“Maybe those dreams have changed. Or were misplaced to begin with.”
“Not sure I follow. What about the part in Cold Blade?”
He averts his eyes. “I turned them down.”
“What?” I straighten at the news. “Why? Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
He shakes his head. “I thought it was. Turns out I was wrong.”
I brush a trembling hand through my hair. “I…don’t know what to think.”
Micah is silent for a long moment before his gaze meets mine again. “I realized that I feel the most peace and contentment when I’m with you.”
“Micah…”
“Please, let me finish.” His breathing is labored as he tries to get his thoughts together. “I feel similarly when I’m on this boat or fishing. But the most unexpected revelation I’ve had is that working with Ms. Hart and those kids was deeply fulfilling.”
“I could tell it was,” I reply in a hoarse voice. “But I didn’t think it fit with your goals in LA.”
“I thought I had something to prove. That I had to make it in Hollywood.” He grimaces. “Because if I didn’t, then leaving you wasn’t worth the risk.”
“Babe, you didn’t need to prove anything except that you were going after your dream, no matter the outcome.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I jeopardized this.” He motions between us. “Our life together. And I hate that I ruined that for you. All these years, I’ve grieved what we once were.”
“Hey, I made my own decisions. We were in this together.”
Micah sits heavily beside me, and we fall into silence, each lost in our thoughts. I lift my wine and down the rest of it. I grieved us too, but now I want to embrace whatever this has the potential to be, even if it terrifies me.
“So what now?” I’m finally brave enough to ask. “You sold your grandfather’s house—”
“Technically, no. The house can’t close because there’s a hitch. That’s the reason I’m in town.” He eyes me. “Well, one of them.”
“What sort of hitch?”
“The title can’t be transferred to the buyer if there’s a property dispute that hasn’t been legally resolved.”
“Dispute?”
He arches a brow. “Remember the leaf-burning neighbor?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. Filed a complaint about the property line, and it never got decided.” He smirks. “Can’t help thinking Grandpa is interfering again.”
I huff out a laugh. “I regret not thinking he had it in him.”
Micah grins. “Maybe his bark wasn’t worse than his bite.”
“So if the house isn’t closing…”
“That means I still own it. I plan to speak to Chuck about it. Rocco too.”
“Are you sure about all this?” It’s too difficult to even accept Micah is here right beside me, let alone that he’s considering staying. “What if the same problems creep up? You don’t have a plan when it comes to your career—”
“I do, actually,” he blurts. “It involves revising what success and contentment mean to me. Fishing again, maybe teaching theater in some capacity—or at least being involved in smaller productions in the general area. If Ms. Hart was able to make a career of it, then maybe I can too.”
“Fuck, Micah, you have thought this through. You sound surer of yourself than I’ve ever heard you.” My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, willing the tears away. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”