Well Met(92)

“Simon?” I could only stare at him. He looked so different. He looked like that serious, judgmental dickhead I’d met on day one, who told me I’d filled my form out wrong. Except that man had worn a disdainful expression. This man was just the opposite. He looked at me as though I were the only thing that mattered.

“Emily.” His gaze roamed over my face as though he hadn’t seen me in weeks, but he didn’t move toward me. I remembered I was mad at him, that we’d broken up, but I was so stunned to see him completely stripped of his pirate persona, that none of that seemed to matter. Not when he was looking at me like that.

“But Faire’s not over.” I gestured at his outfit, as though I were imparting new information he had missed. “You weren’t at the chess match today.” Also vital intel he probably didn’t know.

He nodded slowly, solemnly. “You’re right.”

“But . . .” Too many thoughts were in my head at once, and they all wanted out at the same time. “Why aren’t you in costume?” He’d told me how precious those days he spent as a pirate were to him. Why had he cut that time short?

“I’m proving a point.” Now he moved toward me, just a step, his eyes still on me. “You gave me a lot to think about, you know, last week. And you were right.”

“I was?”

“You were.” He took another step toward me. “About a lot of things. But the most important thing is that my brother is gone. Nothing I do will bring him back.”

“Oh.” I sucked in a little air through my teeth. That hadn’t been the nicest thing I’d ever said. “I’m sorry. I was—”

“Completely right. You made me see how much I’ve been stuck in this loop. Sean died, but I’m the one who became a ghost. Micromanaging this Faire, not letting anyone breathe, including myself. And the worst thing, the absolute worst thing I did that night, Emily, was make you think you didn’t matter. That you weren’t good enough. That a Renaissance faire—that anything—was more important than you. I’m so sorry, Emily. No one should make you feel like that.” He didn’t reach for my hand, although I wanted him to more than anything. “I did a lot of thinking over the past few days, and I’m stepping back from Faire.”

“What? No.” I shook my head. “You can’t quit Faire.” I looked around guiltily at our friends who were gathered around us. “He’s not quitting Faire,” I told them. Chris pressed her lips together to hide her smile.

“I didn’t say I was quitting,” he said. “I’m stepping back. Letting more people help out. Mitch, for example, is excited to take over some of the organization next year.”

“Okay. I didn’t say I was ‘excited,’” Mitch said from behind me. I could practically hear the air quotes. “I said I’d help out. What exactly do I have to do?”

Someone shushed him; it sounded like April. “Be quiet, Kilty.” Definitely April.

“The point is,” Simon continued as though Mitch hadn’t interrupted, “it’s time to let other people be in charge. I can honor my brother more by letting go of the past and living my own life. And Emily . . .” He was so close now, his eyes searching mine, and I was as caught in his gaze as I ever was. “The only thing I’m sure I want in that new life is you.” He took my hand, and our fingers threaded together instinctively. I held on tightly because, despite everything, I’d missed him so much. “Everything that makes up my life—my job, my house, even Faire—I didn’t choose any of it. I didn’t get a chance to.” He pitched his voice low now; his words were for me alone. “They all happened, were passed on to me as something to take over. And I took them over because I thought I should. But then you came along, Emily, and you weren’t a should. You were a want. Being with you was the first thing I wanted, the first thing I chose for myself, in years. And I fucked it up so completely that night.”

“No.” My heart ached for him, for his past, for those obligations that had been heaped on his shoulders. Our fight seemed insignificant in comparison.

“Yes.” But Simon wouldn’t let me put myself second this time. “I did. I put all those shoulds ahead of you, and I deserved it when you walked away from me. But you still told Chris I needed help. You knew what I needed when I didn’t even know what to ask for. I hoped that meant there was still part of you that cared. That I could get a second chance to tell you how much you mean to me. Not for what you can do for me, or for Faire. But for who you are. And for who I am when I’m with you.”

“But . . .” This close, his clean scent surrounding me, it was hard to think. “Are you sure about this? I know how much you love Faire.”

“I do.” He nodded in agreement. “I love Faire. But I don’t need Faire. I need you, Emily.” He reached for me then, his palms cupping my face. “I love you.”

I caught my breath at his words, my throat closing in a sob. My heart was so full I was sure my love shone in my eyes, but in case he couldn’t tell I whispered the words back to him. “I love you, Simon.”

He closed his eyes, and relief smoothed across his features. Then he cleared his throat. “So . . .” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a length of golden cord.