Reckless In Love (The Maverick Billionaires #2)(86)

But she was no longer focusing on him. She looked at the stallions, then her hands. “And there’s my classes. If I want to teach in the fall, I need to put my syllabus together.”

God, he was such a fool. Last night she’d fallen asleep in the car on the way back from another event. She hadn’t woken even as he carried her into the house, not when he undressed her, not when he whispered to her and kissed her good night.

How could he have done this to her?

“Maybe you should take a few months off school.” It was the first thing that sprang to mind, a surefire way to stem the flow of lost hours. “You can go back in the spring.”

In an instant, she blinked back into total focus. “That’s your solution? I need to give up teaching?”

“Not give it up.” He felt as though he were watching himself from a distance, shovel in hand, digging the hole deeper and deeper. And yet, he still couldn’t figure out how to drop the handle and call for a time-out. “Just take a quarter or two off while you see how things go and how much time you have in the future. I can’t stand the thought of you burning yourself out and losing even an ounce of your brilliant artistic vision. Anything but that. Tell me what I need to do to fix this, Charlie, and I swear I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

* * *

“You’ve already done so much. And I appreciate all of it, all the doors you’ve opened.”

“Charlie—”

She held up a hand to stop him, both from saying more or coming closer. She was going to break if he didn’t stop. She might break anyway. She was this close to crying. To exploding into a million pieces and gushing until she could fall asleep. That’s all she wanted to do—sleep. Until she stopped feeling like she was a hundred years old.

“I am grateful. But you expect me to slather on all the glitter and let you parade me around among all those people. Night after night, putting on a mask that I’m having trouble fitting over my face. I’m not the glittery celebrity type, and I’m tired of trying to pretend I am.” How could he not see how much of herself she’d exposed for him? “Why can’t you see that I don’t fit into your world?”

“Of course you fit. Everyone loves you. They love your art.” He stretched out his hands to her, and the pain on his face and in his beautiful eyes cut her in two. Worse were his two whispered words: “You’re perfect.”

“No! I’m not perfect.” God, she hated that word! “No one and nothing is. Not even the priceless pieces of art hanging on your walls.” The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. But she couldn’t go on like this. Couldn’t keep pretending when it was ripping her to pieces. “I’m just like a Zanti Misfit, Sebastian. I sneaked into your world and pretended I was like all of you.” She couldn’t bear hurting him, but everything she said was true, and it broke her heart. “The truth is that I don’t want to fit in anymore. I miss my students. I miss working on whatever I feel like working on without worrying about getting paid for it. I love the stallions, but all the other commissions are just busy work. I never thought it could happen, but I’m losing all my joy in this. And do you know what I miss most of all?” Two tears slid down her cheek. “You. I miss spending time with you. Just the two of us getting closer. Sometimes lately, it feels like you’re so far away.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Right here.” Before she could stop him, he cupped her face so gently, so sweetly. “I just wanted to make sure you had the money to take care of your mom. Because you wouldn’t take mine. I don’t want you to ever have to worry about anything. Why do you think I’ve done a thousand drawings of you? I needed to figure out a way to get you there, to keep you safe. But I couldn’t do it, couldn’t figure you out.”

It was like the kids at the group home. His heart was in the right place even as he micromanaged, finding solutions instead of letting them make their mistakes and figure it out for themselves. He wanted all the lines straight—was so intent on everything being perfect, that he forgot magical things happened all the time if only you just stopped trying so hard.

She folded her hands over his and held them tightly. “Do you remember telling me right after we met that you were keeping your eyes open and visualizing what you wanted for me?” Before he could respond, she went on, “I know all you want is the best for me, because that’s exactly what I want for you. But it took me this long to realize that I can’t live the life you visualize for me, no matter how good it might be. I’ll only be happy, truly happy, if I take care of my mother my own way, not your way. And I have to manage my art my way, not yours. I love teaching too, and I hate the thought of not having students to work with this fall.”

She’d been trying to make up her mind all these weeks, but suddenly it was crystal clear. Giving up teaching would be losing an important part of herself. One that was a crucial piece of what made her whole.

“If something else has to go, then it will, because I’m not giving up my classes.”

“I’m sorry.” A tremor ran through him, and she hated feeling as though she’d just ripped his heart to shreds. “I’m so damned sorry,” he whispered.

“No,” she told him. “Don’t be sorry. Not for one single thing. Not for one single moment. I know I’m not.”