The Wrong Gentleman

I hoped she wasn’t here to say goodbye. To say that she couldn’t live with the uncertainty of being with a man who had broken her trust, no matter the reason. “You look beautiful,” I said, almost stuttering. Her blonde hair was down, her jeans clung to her hips, and there wasn’t a trace of makeup on her face.

As she walked toward me, her beauty was almost overwhelming. Breathtaking. And it shone from the inside. I knew how kind and sweet she was. How the smile covered up the pain she carried. I’d hate myself forever if today was the last time I saw her.

“I changed when I got back from work,” she said and then hung up. She was so close I could almost touch her.

“I should shower,” I said.

“I can wait.”

“But I’m not sure I can.” I pulled out the plastic key card from my shorts, opened the door then held it for her, gesturing for her to go inside. Did I want to shower before I heard what she had to say? I didn’t want her to change her mind and leave while I was in the bathroom. I didn’t want her to leave at all.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she wandered into the room.

“Are you always this tidy?” she asked.

“Even before I joined the military.” There were few signs that anyone had checked into the room. My toothbrush was in the bathroom but everything else was put away out of sight. “But you’re a neat guest, too, I seem to remember.” That first night in her hotel room had told me a lot about Skylar, but I could never have predicted I’d end up here, needing her like oxygen. “Take a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

She shook her head and took a seat on one of the two beds. “I’m good.” She drew in a breath. “Thank you for giving me these few days.”

My gut churned. That sounded ominous. She didn’t look like a woman who was about to tell me she was ready to take a chance on a guy like me. “Skylar, I want to give you everything you need.”

Her smile was reticent and unsure.

“I know it’s difficult to believe,” I continued. “And I’m not suggesting I’m perfect; I’m just saying give us, give me a—”

She held up her palm, and I stopped talking. Last-minute speeches were over.

“I’ve lived the last ten years determined not to repeat my mother’s mistakes,” she said. “I didn’t want to waste my life on a

man who promised me things that he couldn’t give me or told me he loved me but showed me something different.”

I winced, hating myself for not being able to take away the pain she so clearly felt.

I wanted to tell her how it would be different with me. How I would never treat her like that, but I held back. She came here to talk, and I wanted to hear it.

“The last few days, I’ve realized something. A few things, actually. I’ll never get over what happened to my mother. Never get over finding her and then being told that it was my father who had killed her. It will stay with me my whole life.” She paused. “But I realized that I’m not supposed to get over something like that. So there’s no point in running anymore.” Her voice wobbled, and I wanted so badly to reach out, touch her, comfort her, make it better, but I resisted.

“My need to survive, a desperate drive to put a roof over my head and food in my stomach was really the only thing that mattered to me for a long time. Until you.”

I searched her face. What was she saying?

“I’ll never be my mother. I’ve already had a different life. I’ve learned the lessons of my past. I’m a better judge of character. I’m not as weak. And despite the fact that you hurt me, I think I’m in love with you.”

I tried to steady my breathing. It was no good. My self-control was shot. I stood. “What did you say?”

“For the first time in my life, I’m in love. With you.”

It was as if I couldn’t get oxygen into my lungs quick enough. I cupped her face, then pulled her up to stand. “I know that feeling. I love you so much that the thought of being away from you is terrifying. I’d rather take a bullet.”

She slid her hand over my shoulder, hooking her thumb underneath my t-shirt and stroking it over my scar. “No more bullets.”

“Does that mean you’ll come to London with me?”

Her eyes welled with tears, and for a second I thought she was going to say no, but she nodded. “I’ve never been.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist and lifted her, desperate to get my fill of Skylar. She was coming to London. I hadn’t lost her. “I thought you might tell me no,” I said, setting her back on her feet.

“This is early days, Landon. There are no guarantees. Neither of us are good at following our feelings. I just know that you coming here . . . It means a lot that you’re prepared to fight for me.”