“Two months, Ashley,” I say. “Two months. That’s all I can offer.”
She reaches behind her and unclasps the necklace. “Then I can’t accept this.” She hands it back to me.
“Yes, you can. I want you to have it.”
She shakes her head. “I’d give it more meaning than it has. You should keep it. You may”—she pauses, gulping—“find someone else you’d rather give it to.”
I won’t. No one else will ever wear this piece. It’s Ashley’s. It’s stunning on her, but that’s not the reason it’s hers and hers alone.
It’s hers because I’ll never love this way again. Not in this lifetime or any other.
The love I feel for her came quickly, like an arrow to my heart. Like a vise around my soul. It sneaked into me when I let my guard down for a millisecond.
I won’t let that guard down again.
“It’s yours,” I say simply.
“No.” She closes my hand around the garnets.
I place the necklace back into the velvet box. Whether she takes it into her possession or not, it’s hers.
It always will be.
“Maybe someday you can give it back to me,” she says. “If we choose to go beyond these two months.”
I simply nod. Is there harm in letting her think there’s a chance? Perhaps there is, but I can’t help myself. I want to please her. Her happiness means more to me than anything.
Even my own.
Oddly, I’m not being altruistic. Happiness has never been in the cards for me, and I accepted that long ago.
If it were, though, Ashley’s happiness would trump my own. Absolutely. I know this without question.
Which means I’m truly in love.
God help both of us.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ashley
Giving the necklace back to Dale was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I don’t say that lightly, as I’ve gone to bed hungry and cold more often than I prefer to think about.
I remember those times as if they were yesterday. Such is the life of a synesthete. We’re stuck recalling even the most horrid points in our past because of the overwhelming sensory detail of each one. Senses make memories, and since my senses overlap, I remember almost everything.
So yeah, I recall with every sense I have those horrid times during my youth.
And still, I can say with utmost certainty that giving that necklace back to Dale was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
I don’t even have to consider the reason. It’s love, of course. The love I feel for Dale is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and if it ends, I’ll break inside.
The necklace, though beautiful, would be a reminder of the love I’ll carry forever for a man who couldn’t ultimately commit to me.
That’s why I can’t keep it. Not now. Perhaps not ever.
I’ll hold out a glimmer of hope, though.
He loves me. He truly loves me, for he wouldn’t lie to me.
Maybe, just maybe, he’ll want to commit after these next two months are over.
Over. God. That word. It slides into my heart like a greased blade.
Dale places the velvet case back in his top drawer, and then he turns to me, his eyes unreadable. “The necklace is yours, Ashley, no matter what.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he gestures me to stay silent.
“Whether you and I are together now or in the future, the necklace is yours. I feel it deeply in my bones. It’s meant for you. No one could look as dazzling in it as you do. My mother certainly couldn’t have.”
“Your mother must have been beautiful,” I say.
“She was, in her way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t really remember much about her physical attributes. I told you once that Aunt Mel had me draw a picture of her, which helped a little, despite my nontalent for drawing. She had brown hair and brown eyes.”
“She must have been beautiful,” I say. “Look at you and Donny.”
“She didn’t have green eyes,” he says, his voice monotone.
“Green eyes are a recessive trait,” I tell him. “A brown-eyed person can produce a green-eyed child.”
“You took genetics?”
“No. Anatomy, to fulfill a general science requirement in undergrad. But I figured that was common knowledge.”
“Is it?”
“You didn’t know?”
“I knew. My father told me long ago, when we were still kids. Still, I always assumed the green eyes had come from my birth father. You know, since Donny and I both have them and our mother didn’t.”
“Oh.” He knows his birth father’s eye color because he met him recently. Jade told me, and I can’t break her confidence. “Well, you never know.”
“I suppose not.” He stares at the open door of his bedroom that leads back out to the hallway. His voice, still wine-red, sounds wistful, like a breeze is carrying the vivid color away from him.
Away from us.
Crap. This is my fault. Dale opened up to me. Admitted his love for me. Gave me a beautiful gift that I shoved back in his face.