I have no words.
“Young lady, I held on to my own dreams too tightly. I let the Winthrope deal come before something far more important—my grandson’s happiness, and yours. I know we joke about him being part grizzly bear, but he’s always felt responsible for taking care of everyone around him. He’s not a bad guy. He simply cares too much.”
Maybe for some people, he does, but not for me.
“I don’t understand. How did your dream come before Ward’s happiness?”
“He did all this for me. I told him to go through with Nick’s scatter-brained idea to propose to you without actually meaning it. It was selfish, and the rest was pure stupidity. I was blind to how intense a sham love could be, and honestly, I thought you two were perfect together. I expected to come home to a real wedding, however, my instincts were dreadfully wrong. What I’m saying is, I meddled, and I messed up everything.”
My eyes are stinging again.
I crane my neck in something resembling a head shake.
“It’s not your fault. We didn’t quit speaking over the fake engagement. We stopped speaking because he’s a—” I’m about to call him a jackass and don’t want to insult his grandmother. “He doesn’t care about me. Not like you think.”
“He does,” she says firmly.
“No, he said so himself, Beatrice. He told me if he were going to marry anyone, it wouldn’t be me. No other way to read that.”
A pained smirk pulls at her lips. “Ward can be such an overgrown moose sometimes, but whatever dumb caveman thing he’s done—I’ve spoken to Ross Winthrope personally. Did you know Ward came clean about the fake engagement?”
He—what? Why?
Because it looks better than another broken engagement?
I mouth a silent “No.”
Beatrice closes her eyes and opens them slowly.
“He confessed to the hoax to clear his conscience, but he said the ultimate joke was on him. He didn’t care about losing the contract. He fell in love with an angel, and her loss cost him everything.”
Holy crap.
I’m being pulled at opposite ends. My heart sinks. I know how cruel the fallout will be if I’m hoping against logic, and yet some small part of me can’t resist.
“Why would he do that?” I don’t think Beatrice would lie about this, but she’s probably confused.
“From everything Winthrope told me and Nick, I don’t think Ward could have faked your engagement if he wasn’t truly happy. If you two weren’t right for each other. He would only go along with the scheme if you were his faux bride-to-be.”
“Really?” I want to slap myself.
Why do I care? This big reveal shouldn’t make me happy. It’s as fake as a three-dollar bill, just like the lie we lived.
“That’s what Nick concluded, and I think he’s right,” Beatrice says. “He knows his big brother.”
“Ward sent me a letter, but I never opened it,” I admit. “Maybe I should.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” I echo, totally surprised.
“Good grief, you sweet thing, go talk to him in person. Sort this out. It’s not going to happen passing notes back and forth like junior high,” she says with a soft grandmotherly smile.
“No promises. Maybe I’ll read it and decide if I want to talk to him...but I don’t think I can handle having my heart ripped out again.”
“Ask yourself one thing,” she says, her scarf billowing in the breeze. “Why would he take the time to write a letter if he simply didn’t care?”
I don’t know.
Maybe for the same reason he wrote Winthrope—guilt.
His conscience can’t carry the load.
“I need to ask you a question. I don’t have the right, but this is my grandson, so I need to know anyhow,” she says.
Jeez. What now?
“Do you love him?”
She’s a hell of a shot. My mouth drops. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Um, I mean...honestly? As much as you can love a guy who runs over your heart in his fancy Tesla, stops to slather it in that expensive scotch he likes and lights it on fire, then backs up and runs over it again.”
Her laugh is too contagious. I can’t help smiling back as she says, “Relationships are hard. We’ve all been there, and someday you’ll be there again. It’s called commitment because you see it through, even when it hurts.”
“But if I read the letter first, at least I’ll know what he’s thinking.”
“You’re all he’s thinking about,” she says quickly.
“He said that?” My eyes go wide.
“He didn’t need to. He’s grumpier than usual. He never leaves the office. I’m not even sure he’s eating unless Grayson shoves a pile of meat in his face. I know he’s lost a few pounds.”
I smile. “We only ate when I got hungry.”
She raises a knowing eyebrow at me.
A moment of silence passes.
“You know where he is now, don’t you?” she asks.
“Um, right. I left my keycard for the office at the penthouse the day I walked out.”