“I hate leaving you, Tara.”
“Because your being here kept me safe?” I saw him flinch and regretted the words as soon as I said them. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I deserved that.” His voice was clipped, but in the same way he didn’t know me well enough not to doubt me, I didn’t know him well enough to know if he was hurt or angry.
He held up the tube. “I wanted to ask…You don’t have to say yes, but the painting. Can I still have it?”
“It’s yours, Knox. I painted it for you.”
“Thank you.” He looked up at the sky and then back at me. “There’s so much—”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing.”
“Tara, I care about you. More than that.”
I put my hand on the door. “Don’t do this. Don’t embarrass yourself further. Goodbye, Knox.”
“Wow. Okay. Goodbye, Tara.”
I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and went back to where my father sat. From the window, I could see Knox studying the farmhouse. It was as though he was taking one last look at a place he’d never see again.
I’d hurt him with my cruelty. While part of me wanted to race outside and beg his forgiveness, another part knew it was pointless. We were from two very different worlds. How many times had I thought that once Knox got to know me better, he’d realize I wasn’t as interesting as he thought? He’d said that I’d figure out I was way out of his league.
He was so wrong; it was the opposite. Knox was one of the good guys. People like Ava and Aine, Quinn, and even Penelope deserved the good guys. I didn’t. I was a spoiled rich girl whose daddy took care of my every material need and want. I’d graduated from college, but the first real job I’d had was the few days I worked with Pia in the winery tasting room.
I thought back to what Knox had told me his friend said. They’d survived a plane crash; they should go out and grab every bit of happiness they could.
Well, I’d survived two kidnappings. Instead of grabbing happiness, I had to make a life for myself where I could be happy. Be fulfilled. Find a way to be more than I was, so the next time I met one of the good guys, maybe I’d believe I deserved to be with him.
It was too late for Knox and me. In the short time we were together, we’d seen as much of the worst in each as we had the best.
I’d never forget him, though, and I hoped he’d never forget me. That’s why I wanted him to take the painting. Something to remember me by. Something I was good enough at that he’d admired me for it.
I brushed away my tears as I watched Knox drive away.
“Sweetheart?” My father held his hand out to me.
“It’s okay, Daddy.” I sat on the floor and rested against his leg. He stroked my hair.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked a few minutes later.
“All the things I want to do with my life now that I’ve finally woken up enough to realize what’s possible.”
“Everything is possible. You’re extraordinary, Tara.”
I smiled up at him. “You’re the only one who’s ever thought so.” That wasn’t exactly true. There’d been a time Knox thought I was extraordinary too.
28
Tara
Three months later
“Knock, knock.”
“You can come in, Pen.”
“Oh my God, I love it. Even more than the last one.” She spun around and looked at the row of paintings that were lined up against the far wall of my studio. “I don’t know, it’s too hard to decide. I love them all equally.”