by Holly Rayner
“Do you think Lara needs to keep going with English lessons?”
“That’s not for me to say,” Anne says diplomatically.
“I mean, she isn’t fluent yet.”
It’s painful to think of another tutor coming into the house, replacing Emma. I have a feeling Lara wouldn’t like it either. But when we started this adventure, we said the goal was to reach a point where Lara was speaking English fluently. We aren’t there yet. So don’t we have to keep going? I can’t base decisions about my daughter’s education on my feelings for a woman, no matter how overpowering those feelings are.
Anne nods. “I’ve contacted the tutoring agency,” she says. “I let them know we might be looking to hire someone else in the coming weeks, and they sent over a few portfolios. I can bring them for you to look at.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I say. “Thank you. I suppose it’s for the best that we get started looking for a replacement, at the very least. If we don’t end up hiring someone, no harm done. But maybe we’ll find the perfect person for the job.” I sigh. “The truth is, Anne, I think Lara’s lonely. Even if her English was perfect, I think I’d want to bring in a companion for her. She’s growing up, and it’s hard to see her so alone.”
“Loneliness can be a very difficult thing,” Anne says.
She’s looking at me in a knowing way, a way that makes me think she understands it’s more than just Lara’s loneliness I’m worried about. But hiring a new tutor won’t solve my problem.
“Okay,” I say. “Bring the portfolios in. And would you mind looking them over with me? You’re as familiar with Lara’s progress as I am, and I’d really value a second opinion.”
“I’d be happy to help,” Anne says. But she doesn’t move to get the portfolios.
I turn, confused. “Do you have them here?” I ask.
“No, they’re in the kitchen. I printed them off downstairs.”
“Well, go ahead and bring them up.”
She still doesn’t move, just watches me.
I look up at her. “Was there something else?” I ask.
“If you’d allow me to speak candidly,” she says.
“Of course I would. When have I ever discouraged you from speaking candidly?” I ask. “You’re the one who yelled at me when I came home drunk that night when I was seventeen, Anne.”
She laughs. “Somebody had to do it. Your poor mother wasn’t going to, and your father probably would have given you so much hell for it that you’d have been too afraid to ever leave the house again.”
“I was lucky to have you,” I tell her. “I’m glad Lara has you in her life too.”
“Lara’s lucky in other ways, too,” Anne says. “She has a father who appreciates her, and nothing could be more important than that.”
“You think so? I do worry sometimes,” I admit.
Anne laughs. “You worry more than sometimes. You worry constantly. Sending away to America for a tutor because she might be lonely! You know what most parents would do in that situation?”
“What?”
“Sign the child up for a soccer team.”
“Lara doesn’t like soccer,” I object. “She likes ballet.”
“And she has private instruction there, too. Put her in a class, is my point. Let her meet other children her own age. She’s lonely because she doesn’t have any peers.”
It’s a hard pill to swallow—I’ve always wanted Lara to have the very best of everything, and I’ve always assumed that meant individual instruction, so her teachers could focus on her. Have I been wrong in my thinking all this time?
“You’re saying that instead of hiring another tutor, I should put her in an English class.”
“I’m saying that might be a good idea, yes.”
“I’ll consider it,” I say. “You make a good point. It might be good for her to have the chance to socialize with people her own age. To have some young friends for company. She’s so precocious, I forget sometimes that she’s just a child.”
“It can be easy to forget that,” Anne agrees gently. “And maybe it’s also been hard for you to let go of her.”
“What do you mean?”
“You two are all each other has,” she says. “Ever since her mother left. And I know you’d never allow yourself to think of it this way, sir, but you’ve been holding each other back.”
Anger rushes over me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Anne stands her ground. “I know you love her,” she says. “And I know she loves you. More than anything. But it’s okay for you to have lives outside of each other too. It’s okay for Lara to have friends her own age. And you, sir…it’s okay for you to grow attached to people too.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I see the way you look at Emma.”
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. “There’s nothing between Emma and me,” I say. I mean to sound defiant, but it comes out as a mumble.
“Maybe there isn’t,” Anne agrees. “But there could be. She looks at you too, when she doesn’t think you’ll notice. There are feelings there.”
“It’s complicated.”
“But does it need to be?” Anne asks. “Lara’s old enough to understand the idea of her father dating someone, and she adores Emma.”
“She’d be heartbroken if anything developed between Emma and me, and then it ended.”
“Maybe. Is that really enough of a reason to spend your life alone? Not to take a chance on anything? Lara would recover.”
“It’s not appropriate,” I protest feebly. “She’s my employee.”
“Not after today, she isn’t,” Anne says. She narrows her eyes. “Why is she quitting, anyway?”
“You know why. She was homesick.”
“Well, it came on very suddenly.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. It’s not my place to suggest anything. But if you’ll forgive me, sir…I think all your protestations are coming a little bit too late. I think you’ve already fallen for her. I think that’s why you’re spending all your time up here in the office. You don’t want to see her again, do you? You want to hide out until she’s left.”
“You make me sound so weak.”
“I didn’t say that,” Anne says, crossing her arms over her chest, her stance making it clear what she thinks of me.
“It’s not like you think,” I insist. “I did try to talk to her about it. And London…that was supposed to be our moment. That was supposed to be my chance to win her over. It just didn’t work out the way I planned.”
Anne nods, her expression softening. “I knew something happened between the two of you in London,” she says. “It was obvious on the second day, when you could barely look at each other.”
“You really see everything, don’t you?”
“Not everything,” she says. “I didn’t know what had happened. I don’t know what she’s thinking. But you, Tomas…you I know very well.”
She so rarely uses my first name that it catches my attention. I look up at her.
“I’ve never seen anyone affect you the way Emma has,” she says. “Not any of the women you’ve dated. Not even Lara’s mother. And I think if you let Emma walk out of your life today, it’ll be the biggest mistake you ever make. I think you’ll live to regret it.”
“I do want her to stay,” I admit, pressing my fingers into my temples.
It feels good to finally admit it, but it’s difficult at the same time. It’s as if part of me has been denying, even to myself, how badly I want Emma around. Now there can be no more denying it. I’ve released it into the world by speaking the words, and it’s real.
“You have to tell her,” Anne says.
“I have told her.”
“Have you?” she presses. “You’ve opened up to her about everything you’re feeling?”
“I told her I’d never felt this way about any other woman.”
&nbs
p; Anne sighs, shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound real, Tomas,” she says. “I’m sure other men have said that to her before. That’s what every man says to a woman when he wants to make her feel special, whether she actually is special to him or not.”
“Then what difference does it make?” I ask. “What difference will anything I say make? You’re saying the problem is that she doesn’t trust me, not that I haven’t given her enough information.”
“I’m saying the information you’ve given her isn’t enough to convince her,” Anne says. “You need to find your own way of telling her how you feel. Something she hasn’t heard before. Something that lets her know what she means to you and doesn’t sound trite.”
“But how can I do that?” I ask. “I don’t know what to say to her, Anne. Whatever it is, I’d do it. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“I can’t tell you what to do,” she says. “You have to figure it out for yourself, I’m afraid. That’s how these things tend to work.”
“I’m going to lose her, Anne.”
She rests a hand on my shoulder. It’s comforting, and for a moment I remember what it felt like to come to her with my problems when I was little. She always had advice for me, always steered me toward a solution. I depended on her more than anyone. It feels strange to be her boss now, even though the relationship between us has never really been like that.
“I don’t think you’ll lose her,” she says.
“But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get her to stay.” I feel helpless.
“I think you do,” she says. “I think if you think about it long enough, it will come to you. You love this girl, right?”
“I do.”
“Then you’ve probably gotten to know her quite well without even realizing it. You probably know exactly what would make her happiest. Look inside yourself, Tomas. I’ll bet the answer is already there. If you’re meant to have it, it will come to you.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say.
She smiles, collects my coffee cup, and departs, leaving me more confused than ever.
Chapter 15
Tomas
The tutoring session passes, minute by agonizing minute, and I haven’t moved from my office.
I feel hyper-aware of every tick of the clock. Thirty minutes left to go in the lesson. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Every minute that goes by brings me that much closer to letting my last opportunity with Emma slip through my fingers.
And yet I still haven’t moved.
Why?
Because I don’t know what to do. Anne was wrong. I don’t know how to win Emma over. It isn’t coming to me the way she promised it would. The answer seems as elusive as ever.
Ideas break over me like waves, each one cooling the fever of my rising panic, only to recede as I realize that they’re no good at all. Everything I come up with is terrible and useless, doomed to failure. My first thought is to run down the stairs and into the library, to interrupt the tutoring session and declare my love for her right away. But that’s no good. I don’t want to interrupt the time she’s spending with Lara. It would be disrespectful, and it would take away from something that should belong to my daughter. No matter how much I want Emma, I can’t bring myself to do that.
She’s heading straight for the airport after the lesson. Maybe I should offer to drive her there myself? But no, that’s stupid. That would put a time limit on our conversation, force her to make a quick decision. That’s not fair. And it probably wouldn’t work in my favor, either—if she has to decide quickly, she’s likely to default to what she’s already planned to do.
Can I get her to delay her flight somehow? Well, of course I could, but I don’t think I could do it without lying to her, and I definitely don’t want to use lies to navigate this moment. I could go to her honestly and just ask her to reschedule the flight so that we could talk, but the moment I did that she would know what the talk was about. And we’ve already had that conversation. She has no reason to give me a second chance. I’m sure she’d just assume everything would go the same way it did before.
And what do I know? Maybe it would. Do I really have anything different to offer, anything new to say? That’s what Anne was really getting at, wasn’t it? That if I loved her enough, I would find the right words to say to convince her of my love.
But what are those words? I still don’t know. I was as open with her as I knew how to be. I told her I was falling in love with her. I told her I’d never felt this way before. I don’t know how I could have been more open, more vulnerable. Anne says I need to tell her something she hasn’t heard before, something that sounds real and genuine, but everything I told her was completely from the heart, and I don’t know what else I can say.
Maybe I’m not ready for this after all.
Anne’s words play through my head. The answer is already there. If you’re meant to have it, it will come to you. She’s been with me all my life, and she’s never steered me wrong before. What am I supposed to think? I’m sitting here and the answer isn’t coming, no matter how hard I search for it.
I’m not meant to have it, then. That must be that.
And as little as I want to admit it to myself, it does make sense. Emma is a beautiful, smart, self-reliant woman, and what am I? The Playboy Prince. The famous philanderer. What do I know about love, about relationships? What do I know about committing to one woman and giving her everything she deserves?
Emma is right to stay away.
She’s wrong to think that my feelings aren’t real—they are, I know that for certain. But she’s right to be wary, to keep her distance. Because I have no experience, and I’m bound to be terrible at this. And I can’t allow someone as wonderful, as perfect as Emma, to be the person I get my education on. Emma isn’t the girl you date first. She’s the girl you date last. She’s the one the guy ends up with.
And I don’t think I’m the guy.
It kills me. I want to be that guy so badly. But look at what’s happened every time I’ve tried. Every time I’ve been open about my feelings or tried to make a move, it’s only pushed her farther away. And that isn’t because she just doesn’t like me. It’s because my romantic maneuvering is so awkward and clumsy that it’s putting her off.
What clearer sign could there be that I’m not ready to navigate a relationship? She deserves better.
She deserves a man who will make her feel like the only woman in the world. As far as I’m concerned, she might as well be—from the moment she re-entered my life, I haven’t so much as thought about anyone else—but I clearly haven’t done a successful job of making her feel what I’m feeling. Her attention is still on my past, on the many women I’ve dated before. I wish there was some way to make her understand how little those interactions meant, how hollow they all were. How different my feelings are for her.
When I said I had never felt anything like this before, I wasn’t just adhering to cliché. Quite literally, I have never experienced this feeling before in my life. It consumes me. And now that I know it’s real, now that I know this is something that happens to people, how am I supposed to let it go? How am I possibly going to live without it?
And yet, even as that thought comes to me, I know that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to let it go. Let her go. Because my pursuit of her is tormenting her, and I love her too much to keep going.
Is Anne right about Lara? Has she been holding me back from learning how to love a woman? If I’d never had a daughter, would I be capable of winning Emma’s heart?
No. I don’t think that’s right at all, actually. Anne is wise, and I respect her for her wisdom, but in this she was wrong. Lara has taught me everything I know about opening my heart to another person. Before I had a daughter, I actually was the Playboy Prince, flitting from one woman to the next without a care and thinking that was a life. It was very different after Lara came along. I continued to see women, yes, but it was some strange mixture of habit and lonelines
s—a loneliness I’m only just now coming to understand—that kept me going. I never felt satisfied in that part of my life.
Maybe Lara is the only one I’m capable of loving. Maybe I just don’t have the ability to open my heart enough to anybody else.
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. Anne must be back.
I look at my watch and realize with a jolt that the tutoring session is over. If Emma hasn’t left already, she’s surely on her way out the door. I’ve missed my chance.
“Come in,” I call, certain that Anne has come to tell me off. I hope she won’t be too harsh. I hope she’ll be able to see on my face the turmoil I’m in.
But to my surprise, it isn’t Anne who comes through the door. “Daddy?”
Lara. I hold out my arms to her, and she runs across the room and climbs into my lap. She flings her arms around my neck and lets out a sniffle.
“What is it?” I ask her, rubbing my hand in slow circles on her back. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head and sobs.
“Lara, tell me what’s going on,” I beg, starting to worry. It’s unlike her to fall apart like this. Even when things don’t go the way she wants them to, she’s usually very composed. It’s a part of her maturity. Right now, though, she looks like any other heartbroken little girl, devastated that the world isn’t working out the way she’d like it to.
“Emma says she’s going away forever,” Lara chokes. “She’s going back across the ocean to America and we’ll never see each other again.”
“Oh, honey.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”
“But why does she have to go?” Lara cries. “I was good in my lessons, wasn’t I? I studied really hard, Daddy, I promise. I can work harder if I need to.”
“No, no,” I say, my heart feeling like it’s about to shatter. “It was nothing you did, Lara. You didn’t do anything wrong. You know Emma isn’t upset with you.”
“She seemed upset,” Lara sniffles.
“Did she?”
“She was quiet all day. She smiled at me, but she seemed distracted. It was like she was already gone.” Lara’s breath shudders. “I thought she was going to stay with us forever.”
