“I believe you.” Her eyelids drifted shut then opened, glittering with what Ryan hoped was love. “You gave up your half of the house for me.”
He shrugged. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
He shifted on the bench, wishing he didn’t have to share the parts of his life that shamed him. But if he’d come clean with her prior to the fundraiser, they could’ve avoided the entire fiasco and spent the remainder of last night making love. He owed her the entire truth even if it meant she’d never look at him the same. Even if he lost her.
Unable to witness the disappointment in her eyes, he lowered his gaze to her lap. “A couple of years ago, Uncle Alexander’s home nurse got sick while on shift and had to leave. My family called his other nurses and the agency, but no one was available. Since I was home from college for the summer, my father told me to go sit with him. I went over and helped Uncle Al to bed then went downstairs to watch television. My girlfriend, Samantha, called and invited me to the bar. I figured my uncle was asleep for the evening and the night nurse would get there within a couple of hours. So I took off and forgot my cell in the house.”
He stopped to take a breath and couldn’t help but look up at Portia to gauge her reaction. What shined in her eyes blew him away—understanding, forgiveness, and love. It gave him the courage to continue. “When I came home the next morning, my parents were waiting for me in their kitchen. Apparently, Uncle Al woke up, thought he was camping, and built a bonfire, lighting up some paper in a trash can. Luckily, the night nurse showed on time to get him out of the house and call the fire department. He was in the hospital for days from the smoke inhalation. He could’ve died.”
“And you think because you made a mistake you don’t deserve the house,” she said softly.
“I shouldn’t have left him alone. It was all my fault, and I disappointed my parents.”
The grip on his hand tightened. “That’s not true. Last night, they mentioned the fire. They’ve never blamed you. It could’ve happened even if you were there. And as evidenced by his Will, Uncle Alexander never blamed you either. You’re the one who can’t seem to forgive yourself.”
Was that true? He thought back on the last three months and how he’d shut down any question Portia raised about how he’d lost his fortune. Had he done the same with his family? Of course they’d been angry and disappointed in him when he’d left Uncle Alexander alone in the house. But he hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out if they’d forgiven him. He’d immediately dropped out of school and donated his money, which instead of proving his contrition, fed into the image of a spoiled degenerate. Portia was right. If his family could forgive him, wasn’t it time to forgive himself?
“Everything I had was given to me. Unlike you, I didn’t have to worry about a roof over my head or food in my stomach, and unlike Braden, I had two parents always around and ready to bust my ass if I didn’t do my best. Samantha and I weren’t meant to be, but she did teach me humility. I wanted to prove myself and be more than a bank account. I needed to show my parents, my uncle, everyone, I could succeed on my own, so I donated my entire trust fund to the Children’s Hospital and the Make a Wish Foundation. Samantha and I dropped out of school and applied to volunteer for Habitat for Humanity in Africa. Right before we were supposed to leave, I got a ‘Dear John’ letter. She took off without me claiming she didn’t think I could handle giving up my lifestyle.”
Portia’s eyes flashed with fury. “That bit—I mean, that’s horrible.”
His little pussycat bared her claws on his behalf. He stifled a laugh and threw his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer. “Yeah it was. I’d lost all my money, dropped out of law school, and got dumped by my girlfriend all in the same week. When my parents assumed I’d done something stupid with my money, I just let them.”
Her soft hand cupped his cheek. “Why? They would have been proud of you for donating your money. What was wrong with telling the truth?”
“At first, it was my pride. Then I got angry. I’d tried so hard to make amends for failing Uncle Alexander and it backfired on me. No one believed I could make it on my own. In a way, they were right. Instead of going back to school or figuring out what I wanted to do with my life, I moped around for two years, waiting for something to fall into my lap. And then you did.”
He brought his hand to the top of her head and gently unbound her ponytail, swallowing hard when her tresses tumbled down her back as it had in the elevator three months ago. Only this time, he plunged his hand into the thickness, sliding it between his fingers. “When you’ve got money, it’s easy to think it’s not important because you don’t know any different. Even when I’d lost it all, Braden let me move in with him and gave me work. I thought I was tough because I wouldn’t take a handout from him when in truth, I wouldn’t have managed without him. But you’ve gone without a roof, without food. You understand. I love you, Portia.”