“Charlie and I will remember you as the woman you are today, Ryan Hale. The strong, loyal, protective one standing in front of me right now. This is who you are, who you’ve been, and who you’ll always be—right up until the day you die.”
He didn’t say anything more after that. He just turned down the hall and didn’t stop until he’d almost come to the end of it. Opening a door, he stepped inside, and as I walked in behind him, I noticed a soft glow of light spill into the room.
Other than the glow of the nightlight, it was dark inside the room, but I was able to make out a few things. Like the three-piece matching bedroom set in white, the bed complete with four posters and a canopy. There was a desk lined up against one of the windows looking out front where the fountain was, and a tall bookshelf beside it held a few titles but left loads of space for Charlie to fill. A few footballs were propped up on her dresser, with names scribbled on them that would no doubt make her shriek when she read them in the morning, but there was a good assortment of “girl” toys waiting for her as well. Toys I recognized from the bed of his truck the night he’d first met her. In a week’s time, he’d figured out already which ones were more Charlie appropriate.
“You already made her a room?” My voice sounded off as I moved toward the bed Grant was pulling the covers back from.
He shrugged and stepped aside to let me lay her down. “Of course.”
He didn’t say it as though it had been the right thing to do, but the only thing to do. He said it as though a man who’d just found out he had a seven-year-old daughter had no other option than to invite her and her mother to come live with him, then make a room that was special and unique to who that child was.
God, the ball in my throat that appeared out of nowhere would not be swallowed. Of all the bad decisions I’d made, of all the wrong choices, at least I knew I’d gotten this one right. At least I knew bringing my daughter and her father together was one of the few right things I’d done in my life.
After bundling the blankets around her, I backed away from the bed. She was sleeping soundly in her new bed, in her new room, in her new house. I had a sudden flash of her being all grown up, my beautiful Charlie as a young woman, and the image of it choked me up loudly enough that Grant heard.
“Crazy, right?” He came up behind me, close enough I could feel his chest hard against my back. “Her being here. You being here. I’m still trying to catch up.”
“Me too.” My head tipped back enough to see that he was looking down at me. “But I don’t think I’ll ever catch up.”
“Yeah, me either,” he said, pressing a little closer. “But you’re here, and our daughter’s here. That’s enough for me.”
That feeling was hitting me again—the familiar one from having him close. He was still hardwired to every nerve ending in my body, his touch to my every need.
I couldn’t keep feeling these kinds of things. I couldn’t do that to myself again, but most importantly, I couldn’t do that to him again. Too much heartache and pain had been spilled in the name of our love, and reopening that book would only lead to tragedy. Just ask anyone who’s ever been in love with a person whose body and mind was consumed by Huntington’s.
“You said my room is next door?” I stepped away from Grant and out into the hall. It calmed my mind, but my body remained stirred.
“Yeah, it’s right here.”
Grant’s shoulders were tense as he moved by me, opening the door next to Charlie’s. By the time I’d stepped inside, he already had the lights on and was moving around, closing the blinds after checking that the locks on the windows were sealed.
“This is huge.” My eyes widened as I did a slow turn. “Our last apartment wasn’t as big as this one bedroom is.”
“It’s the master bedroom. It’s supposed to be big.” His shoulder lifted as he opened up a few drawers in one of the large dressers. “I dug out most of my stuff from the dressers and closets, but there’re a few things left. Just toss ‘em into a box or something if you need any more space.”
He moved toward closed double doors, pulled them open, and switched on a few lights. I thought it was another room, maybe an office or something, but no, it was a closet. Like the place where one hangs and stores their clothes.
“There’s a chandelier in your closet.” I motioned at the crystal fixture sparkling inside the mammoth closet.
“It came with the house when I bought it. It’s not like I’m a chandelier-in-my-closet kind of guy.” He shoved a few suits and dress shirts tighter against one of the racks on the wall.