With an oversized feather flopping to one side of his puffy hat, he gives a lopsided, half-hearted smile. “Hi.”
Realizing my mouth’s dropped open, I snap it closed. “I was just calling you.” I hold up the phone as if in proof.
“Oh, sorry. I don’t have my cell with me.” He glances down at his legs, clad in black, then pushes his black glasses higher on his nose. “No pockets,” he says apologetically.
My gaze follows his to the contour of his long legs, muscles outlined by the black tights he wears. A look that adds to his masculinity rather than takes away from it, but why dress up like this? With his Buddy Holly glasses, he does make an adorable Prince Charming.
“What are you…” I peer beyond him. “You didn’t really ride a horse here, did you?”
“No, of course not.” He clears his throat. “I mean, no. I drove here.”
“In that costume?” What a hypocrite I am. I’d done the same thing less than three weeks ago. But I’d had a good reason. Still, heat crept across my face. “Why?”
“I know, I look ridiculous. Whoever heard of a Prince Charming with glasses?” The usual sparkle leaves his dark eyes, rounded in fear. His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “I came here to tell you that I know I’m not perfect. Far from it. I make mistakes, and am likely to keep making them. But I’ve known since the first time I saw you that we’d have something fantastic. It took a little longer for the ‘click’ to register with you, but I don’t think you can deny it either. We work. We’re good together.”
Oh God, is he really saying what I think he’s saying? My mouth goes dry. The air thins, and a slight dizziness hits me. I find myself shaking my head and saying, “No.”
He plants his shiny slippers firmer against the step, and his jaw line hardens, Clint Eastwood in black-framed glasses. “I’m not going to let anyone stand in the way.”
Even me? I struggle with the instinct to challenge him. Kip isn’t trying to steal my freedom. In my heart, I know that. Fear mounts an obstacle between us, but I don’t know how to scale its heights. I don’t even know how to turn this conversation around.
“No.” I shake my head, frustrated. This is not how this is supposed to go.
“I…” He searches my face, then heaves a sharp breath. “Sorry. No matter what you say, I know I’m not wrong about how good we are together. But I also won’t force myself on you.” He pulls the idiotic hat from his head and turns to leave.
Fear of another sort sends thorny prickles through me. I grab his dangling sleeve. “No.” He isn’t getting away that easily.
He half-turns toward me again, clearly confused. I catch my lip between my teeth to stem the flood of emotions threatening to burst out.
His expression softens, and he faces me fully. “You can’t say no to both. Either you want me or you don’t. You have to decide. But don’t take too long.”
Ugh, that saying again. My hands turn to fists, ready to pummel something. “Why do you always say that?”
He crushes the hat, large as a sofa pillow, against his royal blue vest. “Fair enough. It’s time I told you why. My wife, Justine, was a wonderful person. Not just intelligent, but wise in an old soul kind of way. When she gave me advice, I listened because she always turned out to be right.” A kind of wonderment softens his words. “When we both knew there wasn’t much time left, I stayed with her as much as I could. We did whatever we could to make the most of it. I’d read to her. Or we’d put on a favorite CD and listen, holding hands.”
Hearing him talk about his wife both tortured and comforted me. I love that he was head over heels for Justine, but can’t help feeling a little envious of their happiness.
“Because you loved each other very much.” Even to myself, my voice sounds strained. Defeated. I cast my gaze down so I won’t have to see the love shining in his eyes—for his dead wife.
“That’s not why I’m telling you. I need you to understand. When I say, ‘don’t wait too long,’ I’m not nagging you to hurry up. It has nothing to do with me waiting for you, or vice versa.” His face flinches, as if in pain. Then he heaves a breath, and appears to gather himself up. “Justine said those words to me the day she passed away. She knew me better than I knew myself. She knew I would have puttered around my garage, and slogged through each day missing her.” He rasps the words, gritty with agony.
I’m caught up in the swell of his raw emotions, and blink back tears. “She didn’t want you to be alone too long.”
He nods. “I didn’t fully understand the meaning of what she said until I met you. It might sound crazy, but the same sense of urgency came back. Like the big clock of the universe was winding down, and I was running out of time.” He ventures a step closer. “You give me such a great feeling when I’m with you. You make me remember who I really am. Remember all the things I’d planned to do, but I let years slip by without doing them. It’s like a miracle to find someone you finally want to share everything with.”
Hearing him express what I’m feeling is the real miracle. I’m not sure I can answer without bursting into tears. After a sharp breath, I say, “So you tell me not to take too long.” The thickness of my throat sounds in my words.
“It’s the very heart of accepting someone. Enjoying your life. Opening yourself to happiness. Now, in this moment. Because when I look back, I find way too many times when I let special moments pass. Life’s so short, Claire.”
“And you want me to feel the same way?” Everything in me is screaming at me to trust him. I don’t want the past to keep its stranglehold over me, to ruin my future. But it’s so damn hard to wrench myself free of twenty years of betrayal.
“I do. I want you to go to bed looking forward to waking up the next day. I want you to be excited about life again, about sharing things you like, to have that crazy euphoria take you over the moon with something as simple as a smile.” The glow in his face fades. “If I don’t make you feel that way, it makes me sad, but I understand. But I still want all that for you. It’s important for you to have that in your life. You deserve nothing less, Claire.”
I steeple my hands across my nose, but tears still well. “No one’s ever said anything so romantic to me,” I manage to whisper.
“I can’t understand why not. You’re amazing. But if you don’t feel the same about me—”
“I do.” I grasp his hands, desperate to keep him there. For him to hear me. “I do. I want you, Kip. What I don’t want is the fairy tale. You’re a wonderful Prince Charming, and any girl would be lucky to have you, but Prince Charming is a myth that no little girl should fall for. I want the real Kipling Baldwin. The real you.”
His lips quirk downward. “You’re right. This isn’t me. I don’t normally hide behind some silly mask to say what I really mean.” He appears sickened and miserable.
Have I done this to him? Made him resort to extreme means simply so he can openly speak his heart? That’s not how I want our relationship to be. Neither of us should need to hide our true selves, or our true feelings.
A squeeze of his hands, and I raise them to my mouth and press a kiss there. “I haven’t made it easy for you. I’m sorry. I let my own stupid fears hold me back and…” I steady myself and hold his gaze. “I love every minute I spend with you. It scares me how much I love it because I’m afraid something will come along to steal it away. But I’m not going to let fear stop me from being with you. Or anything else.” A smile breaks through my fear, and the last of the wall between us crumbles away. “Besides, Prince Charming only played the lute, if anything. I want a guy who can rock my socks off with an electric guitar.”
The sparkle returns to his eyes, lighting his face. He slips his arms around me. “I’m more than happy to do that. Come home with me and dance your heart out.”
“I am so ready.” Nothing will stop me now. Not even me. All my grandstanding, my arguments about not rushing so I could be sure he’s trustworthy, are bunk. No one gets a guarantee, and we’ll both make mista
kes. But Kip is worth risking my heart for.
He looks deep into my eyes with a mix of such yearning, satisfaction, desire, love and wonderment that my heart might actually melt. It’s the look I’ve craved for so long. Best of all, he sees the real me.
“Claire Sims,” he says softly.
“Yes?” I press against him, my body hungry for the warmth he never hesitates to share. The warmth I’ve been waiting for all my life.
He leans his forehead against mine. “You always manage to surprise me in the best ways.”
Sniffing away the last of my tears in a cleansing breath, I let unrestrained happiness wash over me. “I try to keep things interesting.”
A smile, then he sobers. “I promise I’ll try to do the same for you.”
Easing away, I sweep my gaze pointedly down his costume. “You already do. And while I certainly appreciate the effort you put into all this, you didn’t have to dress up like Prince Charming. I already knew you’re way better than any royalty.”
He presses his mouth to mine, and I throw my arms around his neck and hold tight.
I’ll never envy a fairy tale princess again. I have something so much more precious than a story-book happy-ever-after.
I have Kip.
~~~
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