Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(55)

Since it was impossible for her to entertain thoughts of a future with him, her thoughts of Preston were confined to the past. With a perspective that came with time, Elise had been able to look at their courtship and marriage objectively over the past two years, and she’d come to fully understand her raw urge to run to L.A. when the opportunity was offered.

Two years ago, she simply hadn’t been ready for marriage. She’d loved dating Preston, being his girlfriend, even living with him. And she’d been in love with him for certain, but she hadn’t been ready to prioritize her marriage to him over her career. Her Broadway career had barely taken off. She’d invested years of her life—and all but severed ties with her family—in order to be a star, and it was finally on the verge of happening. She didn’t need to be distracted by a hot, loving, thoughtful lawyer who wanted to give her the world. She’d feared him getting in the way of her ambition, or in any way interfering with her career. She’d almost resented the power of his love for her, and hers for him, because it was a weakness that could eventually jeopardize everything she’d worked so hard for.

What had confused things terribly in her head, was that she had been more than ready to lose her virginity to Preston at the time…something her Mennonite conscience wouldn’t countenance without a formal commitment between them. Most girls would have gone ahead and had sex with him as the next logical part of their relationship, but she wasn’t able to do that. So when he’d proposed so romantically, she’d reviewed her feelings—deeply in love, check—and her ever-increasing desire for him—scorching, check—and jumped into matrimony without a sober review of her readiness to be someone’s wife.

It made her profoundly sad to think about all of this, to realize that despite their deep love for each other that their timing had been, once again, epically shitty. Preston had wanted their marriage vows to suddenly mean that they had morphed overnight into this happily bound unit…whereas Elise was too independent and ambitious to let anyone, even her husband, get in the way of her dreams.

Two years ago, Elise Klassan wasn’t ready to be Elise Winslow, and rushing into marriage had been a mistake.

Two years later, with the gift of time and perspective, what she wanted most in the world, was another chance with Preston Winslow.

At some point, she’d realized that her career, which she’d always assumed would be enough, wasn’t enough. Knowing Preston, living with Preston, coming home to Preston, being loved by Preston had ruined her for Hollywood, had ruined her for Broadway…had ruined her for anything that didn’t include him. It wasn’t that she didn’t have talent, she did. She had work and accolade and praise, too. But she didn’t have happiness. Her happiness, with her heart, remained with him.

Coming home to a dark bungalow after a successful shoot felt empty when she remembered the way he’d wait up for her after every show. Celebrating small victories on her own was so depressing, she had stopped celebrating them. Even praise for her work didn’t matter to her anymore; there was no one to share it with her. No one to read to, or sit with on long cab rides. No one waiting outside the soundstage to take her out to dinner, or wrap his arms around her when she’d had a bad day. Without his support and gentle kisses, hard body and deep well of love for her, her success had become all but meaningless. It had been a hard two years of self-discovery and self-recrimination, and what she had realized, beyond any shadow of doubt, was that giving up Preston had been the biggest mistake of her life.

She was finally ready to be Elise Winslow…

…two years too late.

When Elise was so lonesome for Preston she thought it would break her, she would hike up into the Hollywood hills, find a quiet spot, and meditate. Most often, she’d close her eyes and think of her mother back on the farm in Lowville, imagining the advice her mother would give her if they had the sort of wise, loving, mother-daughter relationship that included long conversations about matter of the heart. Sometimes it comforted her. Sometimes it made her feel worse. But it always helped her sort out her feelings.

Sitting on the white leather couch in Gene Miller’s office, Elise closed her eyes, focusing on her mother’s face, and whispered words dropped from her lips: “I still love him, Mama. I miss him awful. And I ruined things between us. Me. I h-hurt him. I pushed him away, Mama. It makes me ache inside to think about what I said to him when he came all the way out here to see me.” Bile rose in her throat and she winced as her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know how to get him back. I don’t know how to say I’m sorry after all this time. I don’t want to give up my career, but I would, Mama. Now I would. I hate it out here. I m-miss the stage and New York and I miss P-Preston more than anything because I was really happy with him, Mama. Really, really happy. I’ve made a mess of my whole life…and I just—I j-just don’t know what to do.”

Picturing her mother’s weathered face, she saw her mother’s eyes soften for just a moment before turning to gray steel. Her no-nonsense voice echoed in Elise’s head: Stop your crying. This isn’t a stage, and as usual, you’re making your life so much more difficult than it needs to be, Liebling.

You say you’re sorry. You ask for forgiveness.

You talk to him. You hope he listens.

You offer honesty. You hope for trust.

You offer love. You hope that it’s returned.