He could have experienced those same things with her without the layer of lies between them. He could have been next to her while she discovered her inner strength without hobbling her along the way.
Because he had been telling the truth. She stood on her own two feet, even when he wasn’t completely honest with her. Watching that confidence crumble was almost worse than knowing he’d fucked this up beyond all reason.
Not to mention he had to call and report in—something he’d avoided up to this point, mostly because he didn’t want to face Flannery’s wrath. If the man didn’t know what happened between them—and that was doubtful at this point—Luke hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell him.
Which was cowardly as fuck.
If he couldn’t deal with confronting Flannery, then how the hell was he supposed to prove to Alexis that he was serious about her? Steeling himself, Luke dropped onto the bed in his hotel room and dug out his satellite phone.
It barely rang once. “I wondered when I’d hear from you.”
There was nothing in Flannery’s voice to tell him which way the wind was blowing. But the lack of panic told him all he needed to know. “You’ve talked to her?” She was okay. That was all that mattered.
“You have some serious balls to call me and demand to know a damn thing about her. Why don’t we talk about the fact that you abused the hell out of my instructions? What part of ‘protect Alexis’ translated into ‘fuck her’?”
“Don’t talk about her like that.” He shoved to his feet and paced around the bed and back again. “I didn’t plan on things playing out this way, but I’m not going to apologize for it. I care about her and, yeah, I fucked up, but I’m going to find a way to make this right. I’m not letting her go without a fight.”
He expected Flannery to lay into him, or at least rip him a new one. But the man just hissed out a breath. “What makes you think she wants anything to do with you?”
“She probably doesn’t. And if she tells me that after I pour out my heart”—did he actually just say that shit?—“then I won’t bother her again. But I have to try. I can’t let things stand as they are.”
“You’re serious.”
“As a fucking heart attack. She got to me, man. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I’m a goner where she’s concerned.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Even if she decides to give you a second chance, that doesn’t let you off the hook with me—or Avery and Drew.”
He didn’t give a flying fuck what they thought of him. Alexis was the only one who mattered. “Just tell me where she is. Give me a chance to at least try to fix this.” He didn’t have the first clue how he was supposed to do it, but he couldn’t walk away now any more than he could before.
Then it hit him. He didn’t need Flannery to tell him where she was going, because he already knew. “She’s going to Verona, isn’t she?” If she was feeling half the heartbreak he was at this point, she’d want that reassurance that love wasn’t all a shit show. Hell, he’d like a little reassurance right now, too.
“Yeah.” Flannery hesitated. “Good luck.”
Luke hung up, his mind already on his destination. Verona. Juliet’s Wall. He had to admit there was something that hit him right in the chest at the thought of never seeing her again. He wasn’t the type to write love letters to a woman who would never receive them, but after the last few days, he understood the urge. At this point, he’d do that and more to make her sit still long enough to listen to what he had to say.
First, he needed a fucking train ticket.
Alexis sat on one of the benches in the little courtyard and stared at the wall peppered with more letters than she could begin to count. Thousands of lovers pouring out their hearts to Juliet. She wasn’t sure if it was romantic or horribly sad. In her current mood, she leaned toward the latter.
Hadn’t she learned the hard way that life was more than willing to pass you by if you sat back and waited for something good to come? That’s all she’d been doing for the last fifteen years, letting life guide her and, as a result, pass her by. If she’d been more proactive—more willing to put aside other people’s expectations of her—would she be happy now? Maybe she would have found a man who was actually worth her love and settled down. The cancer… That was no one’s fault. It still would have come no matter what choices she made. But it didn’t have to be the destroying factor it’d turned into. She’d let the loss of her ability to have children take away everything else good in her.
No more.
She wasn’t willing to sit back and wait. How many of the people who wrote these letters felt the same hopeless abyss she currently had fighting for dominance inside her?
All she could focus on was her memories of Luke and the realization that he’d been right—the way she’d grown had little to do with him. Yes, he’d made her body come alive and maybe acted as a catalyst to channel her returning self-confidence, but she would have gotten there on her own.
And the things he’d said to her…
She wanted what he’d been promising. She wanted it a lot. More than that, she deserved a man who wouldn’t look at her and see all the places she was lacking. Luke saw her faults, but he also saw things worth admiring—all the good, the bad, and the ugly—and he didn’t think she was a giant disappointment.
He was right.
She could face that now, could step away from the constant weight of other people’s expectations. Which left the question—if she wasn’t living for other people’s needs, what did she want?
The answer was easier than she would have guessed.
She wanted Luke. She wanted the bickering and the long, sweaty nights spent in his arms, and the soft moments when they both lowered their battered emotional walls.
“Darlin’…”
For half a heartbeat, she thought she was hallucinating, but then Alexis looked up…straight into the sea-green eyes she’d become so familiar with since Cork. Still, she could hardly believe it. “Luke?”
He went to his knees in front of her, his slight grimace the only indication of how much the move must have hurt his old injury. “I’ve been waiting for two days for you to walk into this courtyard, darlin’.”
Two days? She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “Hear me out. Please. I’m sorry. Christ, Alexis, you have no idea how sorry. I never should have lied to you about why I was here, but I swear to God, I never lied about anything except the Marines, and if you give me a chance, I’ll never lie to you again.” He slipped something out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.
She frowned. “What’s this?”
“You said Juliet’s Wall was filled with letters written to lost loves.” He held her gaze, never wavering. “So I figured it was only right that I bring one of my own.”
She stared at the paper. It had been ripped out of some hotel stationery and folded several times. From the creases, she got the feeling that Luke had opened and refolded it repeatedly since he wrote it. He wrote me a letter, a letter in a place meant for lost loves. Does that mean…? “Luke—”
“It’s for you, darlin’. It was always for you.”
Hesitantly, she unfolded it, her heart in her throat as she read. It was short and to the point, just like Luke.
Alexis,
If I’m handing you this letter, chances are that I’ve already told you how badly I fucked up and how desperately I want to make it right. But I’ll say it again. You’re the first woman who’s looked at me and seen that the man is more than the scars of his past. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t turn away. You just accepted it all and turned it into something to be proud of. You humble me, darlin’. Being around you makes me want to believe in fairy tales and true love, and gives me the strength to want to face my past and my fears—everything you’ve done since you got off that plane in Cork. I don’t deserve you. But if you give me a chance to make things right, I’ll spend the rest of my life working to be a man worthy of you.