Reckless In Love (The Maverick Billionaires #2)(88)
Like his father, Sebastian thrived on his events. That’s where he made his contacts, did his business, lived his life, all in the public eye. And that had been fine until he’d become driven by the relentless need to sell Charlie’s magnificence, to sell her art.
The stark realization that he might be more like his father than he’d ever thought possible made everything painfully clear for Sebastian. He’d vowed he would stop screwing up, and yet he kept on doing it, kept on driving Charlie, deciding what was best for her. And he couldn’t stop, despite all his promises, because he didn’t know how.
Charlie deserved all the happiness and all the joy in the world. Sebastian couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her destroyed by his choices or his desires. And yet that was exactly what he was doing, dragging her into his world and tearing her apart. But it was his world, it was how he lived. He didn’t know any other way. For her sake, for the sake of her art—because Charlie lived and breathed her art—he had to walk away. He couldn’t get down on his knees and beg her to come back to him. He couldn’t let her see his heart break open and his guts bleed for her.
He’d thought it had been hard to leave his parents, but this would be light years worse. No wonder his father had never cut his mother loose, though he had to know he was destroying her. Just as Sebastian had come close to destroying Charlie, forcing her from party to party, one after the other, sometimes even on the same day, and supplanting her art in the process.
Cutting Charlie loose was the very last thing he ever wanted to do, and the hardest. But he would not be like his parents, damn it. He would not be like Whitney and Evan. He would own up to the painful truth that he was the worst thing for Charlie, the toxic component of their relationship that drained all her inspiration and her creativity.
She had all the new commissions. She’d do great on her own. When the chariot was unveiled, she would become the talk of the art world. The critics would love her, and art patrons would wallow at her feet. He would die a little more every day without her. But she would thrive, would pick and choose her commissions, take only what she wanted. And she would never again have to worry about Francine.
Don’t be sorry. Not for one single thing. Not for one single moment. I know I’m not.
Lord...he was so damned sorry. He’d never wished so badly that he could rewind time and get it right, that he could have torn off the blinders before it was too late, before he’d pushed Charlie so far in directions she’d never wanted to go.
Even if he could do those impossible things, there was only one way he could be absolutely sure to keep Charlie safe and happy, full of her vision and creativity. Though it would kill everything inside him, he would do it.
He would set her free.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Her mom’s face creased with worry, and she held out her hands.
Charlie had barely set foot inside the room, but her mother knew her so well. It had been at least twenty years since Charlie had run into her mom’s arms, but she went down on her knees in what felt like the only safe place left in the world.
“Everything’s gone terribly wrong.” Charlie’s words were muffled by the fabric at her mother’s chest. She lifted her tearstained face. “I should have told him I didn’t want to go to all those parties or take all the commissions, but I didn’t mind it at first. All this time I’ve said I’d never change myself for anyone, but wearing the pretty dresses and making the dumb cherubs for society patrons were all tied into helping y—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d been on a rant, not thinking about what she was saying or how it would make her mother feel.
“Oh, honey.” Her mom stroked her hair so gently that tears clouded Charlie’s eyes once more. “I know you’ve been turning yourself inside out for me. A thousand times I’ve wanted to tell you that you’ve already done more than enough.”
“That...that’s what I’m always telling Sebastian.”
Her mother smiled. “Does he listen any better than you do?”
“No.” Charlie took a shaky breath and let it go. “Neither of us listened.” Then she’d woken up this morning and found she simply couldn’t breathe anymore. “I didn’t even give him a chance to listen today.” She’d blasted him with all her frustration, then told him it would be best if she processed everything alone. As though she would be a better, smarter version of herself without him. Only, that could never be true.
Her mother held her gaze, her eyes serious and full of deep love. “Then go back. Make sure he hears you. And while you’re at it...” Her mother squeezed her fingers with the little strength she had, and yet it seemed so mighty. “Make sure you’re always listening to what’s in your heart too. Even if it scares you. Even if it doesn’t feel like it makes sense. Trust yourself, honey. I always have.”
The tears spilled down Charlie’s cheeks. Her mother’s words seemed to echo what Charlie had tried to make Sebastian understand about his art. Trust your heart. Because Sebastian’s art came straight from his heart. He just hadn’t learned how to trust it yet.
Her mother had asked Charlie what her mile was, the one she needed to walk every day. Now she knew. It was this—committing to Sebastian with no more reservations, no more holding back, no more running away or keeping secrets, no matter what.