A few hours later, while strolling through the cobblestone streets of Canterbury toward the old Cathedral, Stella said, “Baby, are—” she cleared her throat. “Are you mad at me because I decided to break it off with you?”
He stopped walking and wrapped his arms around her. “How can I be mad at you, love? Your worries are natural. But we need to talk about these things with each other. You know, I had an interesting thought the other day.
“We wear so many different masks throughout our lives, it’s easy to hide behind them. We disguise our fears with anger. We fake laughter when we want to cry. But worst is the shield of ambition. In our yearning for success, we’re often denying ourselves the one thing we really want. Don’t get me wrong. You know I love my work, but it means nothing without you. From now on, I’m fighting for what I want. And I want you, Stella, because without you, my life is empty.”
She nodded. “I love you so much, it sometimes hurts so much it scares me. I was scared today. But I promise you I’ll be strong and won’t doubt my own feelings again—or yours.”
“Before I go to Paris, we’ll have a plan in place—one that works for both of us. We’re in this together, my angel.”
That night, their lovemaking was more intense than it had ever been. It wasn’t a race to reach climax. They showered each other with love. It was sensual and raw, seeking and reassuring, full of emotions and promises.
Much later, safe in David’s arms, Stella remembered her vision of walking on a beach in France with David and their children. She allowed herself to imagine baseball practices and dance recitals. A house full of laughter and love.
She touched her pendant. Like Naomi, she would never take hers off.
Could she truly allow herself to dream this precious dream, to open herself fully to their possible future?
CHAPTER 40
David—October 2018
D
avid turned on some jazz and poured himself a glass of wine. He had a few bottles left from Stella’s visit, and it wasn’t worth shipping them home. While he sipped, he imagined her here with him. The combination of earthy aromas of wet leaves and faint floral smell of roses made him smile.
Stella sometimes tried to pick out certain taste notes in a wine, but had a rather unique way of describing them. “I smell horse barn,” was his favorite.
He stood in front of the cold fireplace, scanning the living room. It was finally time to pack up and prepare for his return to the States, to Stella. Just as in every other city before, he hadn’t accumulated a lot of personal items. Long ago, he learned to travel light.
Since Stella returned home, he had often replayed their day in Dover in his mind. She had been on the brink of breaking up with him. Had almost turned the tables on him. He admired her for having the guts to do it in person, while looking him in the eyes.
When he realized what she was about to do, he couldn’t breathe. His heart had skipped a few beats before it picked up again at record speed. He wasn’t surprised at all that she had doubts and fears. It wouldn’t have been normal if she didn’t question what happened between them.
Every time when he made love to her, he saw her trust and her love for him in her eyes. And her silent plea that she was enough for him. She didn’t seem to realize the question ought to be whether he was enough for her. Would he be able to give her what she needed?
What she didn’t know was, she had shared some of her terrors with him almost every night, when deeply rooted fears took hold of her. She often whimpered his name, her mumbled “Why?” and “Where are you?” shaking him to the core. And all he had been able to do was hold her, and slowly guide her out of the nightmares. Their middle of the night lovemaking was when they bared their souls and became one, until the world around them didn’t exist.
His gaze fell on the object on the table. The book was identical to the one he gave Stella three years ago. But inside his were two other items: a photograph of them, and a copy of his damned letter. A letter not even written by hand, but typed on his computer like a routine cancellation notice for a boring magazine subscription.
Why did he save a copy of it? To remind himself of his own stupidity!
He didn’t need to unfold the letter.
He remembered...Every. Single. Devastating. Word.
Dearest Stella,
I’ve been in Budapest for a few weeks now. Aaron is telling me already about other offers and gigs all over Europe, and he even talked about going to Sydney. It is thrilling—and humbling—to think about singing at the biggest and oldest opera houses. But it also makes me think about us. Where do you and I fit into this life?
We’ve been together for two years now, and under different circumstances, this could be the time to take our relationship to the next level. Yet I don’t know what my future holds, where I will be next, and I can’t offer you any stability or certainty.
When I left America, you said you’d wait for me. We thought I’d be gone for six months. When I visited you in May, and told you about going to Budapest, you took it in stride that I would stay here for at least another six months, maybe longer. But, Stella, I can’t make any promises anymore.
I don’t have the right to ask you to wait for me any longer, because it isn’t fair to you. I’ll have to let you go.
Take your love for me and give it to another man, one who can be there for you and give
