All Who Dream (Letting Go) (37 page)

We had
never had the official
define-this-relationship
talk, but Jackson didn’t seem the type to need to make a declaration in order
for something to be. Up until the last few days things had felt like they had
progressed with us, like we both felt for each other what we hadn’t yet said
aloud. But the last seventy-two hours had been a game-changer of sorts.

Jackson
had been different—distant.

I didn’t
believe he was still in love with
Livie
, although it
had been quite a shock to learn she was still connected to his life—to the
company, through Stewart. Why couldn’t he just let go? Was his regret over how
he ending things with her—or how he wasn’t there for his brother during his
treatments, still that strong?
 
It was a
complicated mix of layers upon layers of rationale that I probably wouldn’t
understand, but I needed to try. One of us had to put forth that effort.

Finally,
the witching hour was upon me.

Jackson
knocked on my door. I opened to find him wearing dark
camo
shorts and a grey t-shirt. He looked so boyish, hands in his pockets, as he
waited for me to lace up my shoes. We walked together down the hall and into
the elevator, not saying much. The tension rolled in my stomach like bad Thai.

As we
crossed the street and made our way to Central Park, I noticed how he stayed
away from me—how his arm never brushed mine, how our hands never touched—not
even accidentally. He was guarded. With each step we walked, my sympathy for
him waned. In its place was a mounting level of frustration.

When he
sighed, I decided I was done with the silence.

“What’s
going on, Jackson?” I
asked,
my voice stronger than
intended.

He
glanced at me. “That’s a loaded question.”

“Well,
then you should probably start talking.”

He
exhaled loudly, running his hand through his hair.

“They’ve
given me an ultimatum.”

I
stopped, causing him to stop as well.

“Who
has?”

“Jacob
and Stewart are calling a board meeting—asking for my resignation.”

“They
have the votes they need to push you out?” I asked.

“They
think so…they want to vote Stewart in.”

“Why…I
don’t understand?” I asked him.

He nodded.
“There was a contract signed between my father, Jacob and Stewart before he
died. It stated that Stewart would have the same rights to the company as any
Ross successor. If something had happened to Jacob, Stew was next in line. But
since Jacob was still alive to vote me in when I showed up, Stewart took a back
seat to me. Now Jacob wants to reinstate the succession. He claims that Stewart
should be in the CEO position…not me.” He pulled on his neck with one hand and
then
start
walking again. “The legalities are a bit
more complicated than that.”

“So what
are you going to do?”

“I’m
gonna
play their game. I’ve called some secret meetings
myself…to win back some votes before next week’s board meeting.”

I nearly
stumbled over my own feet when I heard him say that. “You…you’re going to fight
them?
Why
would you do that, Jackson?
You aren’t even happy there!”

“Happiness
is an illusion, Angie.”

As we
walked into a shaded area of trees, I let out a frustrated cry. He turned
sharply at the sound—his face startled. I stopped walking, unwilling to pretend
that the more steps we took would take us somewhere, but I knew they wouldn’t.

I
swallowed, feeling like I’d just been slapped in the face. “Is that what you
think I am, then?
Just an illusion?”

He stared
at me, the answer in his eyes loud and clear.

I took a
step forward, picking up his hand. “
I am
real
, Jackson. This—what we have together—it’s real.” My voice cracked
under the weight of emotion, straining to be heard. “I’ve lived in an illusion
before—my marriage was one.”

He
blinked, looking at our joined hands silently. I stared up at his face, the
pressure building within my chest. I was overcome with the words I had read
recently circling inside my head. I could recall them easily…because they were
his words.

“I know
how your series ends, Jackson,” I said.

“What?”
His face was both stunned and confused.

“I read
it—I skipped ahead,” I said defiantly.

His
features darkened as I felt his hand slip from mine.
“And?”

“It’s
awful, Jackson—heartbreaking! I couldn’t believe you just left them like that—Quinton
and Reagan.” I folded my arms in front of me, catching his eye momentarily.
“But I get it now…I
so
get it.”

He
laughed, humorlessly. “Is this where you psychoanalyze me, Angie? Why don’t you
just tell me how you really
feel!
”

“Fine.”
I refused to look away from him. “I think you’re
acting like a coward.”

“What did
you say?”

“You’re.
Acting.
Like. A. Coward. You tell yourself that you can’t be
happy, that you can’t dream—that you can’t love again because of all your
regrets.” I threw my arms up gesturing in every direction. “But look around
you, Jackson. You’re the one who hasn’t moved on.” I lowered my voice. “I don’t
understand why you keep fighting for a life that makes you miserable…not when your
life could be so much more.”

For a
brief second, his hand reached for me, but he pulled it back before contact was
made.

“I tried
to tell you,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have let you get
so close to me.”

My breathing
faltered, my body shuddering at his words. I took a step closer and put my hand
up to his face, my heart aching as I spoke. “That was never in your control,
Jackson. No one gets to tell my heart who it will love.” Tears spilled down
over my cheeks before I could stop them.

“You
can’t love me, Angie,” he pleaded. “Please don’t love me—you deserve a better
man.”

“I
already love a better man. He just can’t see that you’re one and the same.”

He closed
his eyes as I held his face between my hands.

“Angie.”

“Haven’t
we both lived with enough regret?” I whispered.

His jaw
flexed in the moonlight, as he took my hand away. “I’m saving you from another
one.”

I shook
my head, pain shredding my heart in two. “No, Jackson…denial never saves us, it
only delays us.”

He watched Reagan, as if in a dream. She’d
just loaded up the remaining boxes into her trunk and was walking back to lock
her front door.

During the last year, Quinton’s life had
been flipped upside down by this woman—turned inside out. They’d each
sacrificed and risked their lives with the hope of saving the other.

But sometimes, even the best intentions,
even the strongest courage, even the deepest love…cannot save us from
ourselves.

As she glanced down the street one last
time, she confirmed what they both already knew: True love was only a dream.

Heartache
was a cold, seeping pain, one that chilled me to the bone.

It had
all been so civil: Jackson walking me back, kissing my cheek, driving away. Yet
nothing in me
felt
civil. Nothing in
me wanted to believe that our last words had just been uttered. But they had.
The only promise spoken to our future was a weak, yet dutiful goodbye.

By the
time I got inside my apartment, my head was pounding in equal measure with my
heart. I wanted to scream, or cry, or hit something, but the throbbing in my
skull kept me from all of those. I walked into the room and nearly tripped over
the suitcase I had pulled out earlier. It was then that I was jarred back into
the present.

The reality
that I was leaving in just over twenty-four hours was suffocating. I lay on the
bed, curling up as small as I could and touched the spot on my neck that had
once brought me comfort, strength, and hope.

But now
what lay under my fingertips was the same thing that lay heavy in my chest: Emptiness.

I was
brushing my teeth when I heard a knock at my door. Abandoning my task, I
hustled to answer. My stomach leapt to my throat as I reached for the knob. But
on the other side was not the most stunning eligible bachelor I’d ever laid
eyes on…it was
Pippy
.

She
entered like her usual ray-of-sunshine self, handing me an orange smoothie
concoction, which she said she added an energy boost. Tears filled my eyes even
as I smiled at her.

“Don’t
start that yet,” she warned. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

I nodded
obediently as one rogue tear slipped out.

“What can
I help you pack?” she asked. “Can I put your dresses into garment bags?”

“Sure,” I
said, humoring her. She had insisted we pick up a few bags the other day; she
couldn’t stand the idea of my formal wear going inside my suitcase.
As we walked into my bedroom.
Just the sight of those
dresses felt like too much to bear.

Pippy
lifted each gown up like it was a piece of lost
treasure, and carefully tucked it into the garment bag. She was unusually quiet,
which told me she had something to say.

“What is
it,
Pippy
?” I asked, sitting on the bed.

She
smiled, sheepishly. “I heard what happened.”

My
insides dropped as if a giant magnet inside the earth’s core was pulling them
downward.

Was Jackson just going around announcing the
end of our never-to-be-defined romance?

“He told
you?” I all but whispered.

She shook
her head, slowly. “I overheard them talking about it.”

“Them who?”
I asked.

“My dad and Stew.”

My mind
was reeling. “Okay…what
exactly
are
you talking about?”

“The Publishers dinner two nights ago.
When
Stewart punched Jackson.
What did you think I was talking about?” She
asked, her eyes round with interest.

“Nothing.
So…what did Stewart say?” I said, scrambling to
change topics.

Pippy
continued to eye me like a mental patient as she
spoke. “He said that he was sorry for getting out of control and hopes it won’t
hurt the company. That such a thing would never happen again…and that he wishes
Jackson would give him the chance to explain the truth. But he won’t listen to
anyone.”

“What was
she like—
Livie
?”

She
exhaled loudly. “She was kind and beautiful and spunky…”

I glanced
at her.
“But?”

She
shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just never felt the chemistry between them.
She was just always there,
ya
know? Everything was so
expected with them. They were each other’s safe choice.”

“Do you
think there was something more going on with her and Stewart?”

She shook
her head. “My dad grilled him relentlessly on that subject once her letter
surfaced. Whatever attraction they felt for each other was never acted upon.
Despite what Jackson thinks, Stewart loves our family…he would never willingly
hurt him. He is much too loyal to the company and to my brother to do something
like that. It’s not his character.”

“Jackson
won’t let it go. He’s
gonna
fight for the company so
that it’s not passed on to Stewart.”

Pippy
ignored me. “You have the spark.”

“What?”

“What I never
saw between him and
Livie
. There’s tension and
passion and…joy when you two are around each other. It’s like watching the best
romance drama unfold. He loves you. I know he does.”

I fell back
on the bed, covering my eyes with my arm.

Pippy
did the same, quietly breathing next to me, as if
waiting for some romantic sentiment to come out of my lips.

“It’s
over,
Pippy
. Jackson didn’t choose me. He chose
her—he’s still choosing her.”

Pippy
rolled over and put her arms around me. With or
without the ties of a marriage,
Pippy
was the little
sister I had always wished for. I refused to lose her.

Hope was a funny thing.

Once you
had it, it was hard to kill.

All night
I waited for him to call, or text, or even come over. To tell me he’d been
wrong, to tell me his past couldn’t be fixed by penance. But my waiting, it
turned out, was all in vain.

With one
last look at the building that had been my home for the last six weeks, I walked
out to the empty town car
Pippy
had reserved for me.
Walt took my bags and put them into the trunk while I climbed into the
all-too-familiar backseat.

“I took
the liberty to provide you with a lock for your each of your suitcases, Ms.
Flores. Here’s your key.”

I thanked
him and tucked the key into my purse. He guided the car into traffic, and I
watched as the city passed by my window on the way to the airport. New York was
a city so full of sounds and smells and life. I thought of all the dreamers who
had sacrificed everything to be here, the ones who had left family and friends
and loved ones. I thought of the ones who had been willing to start over, no
matter what the cost, without any promises in return.

That’s
what hope did: it blinded us to reality.

“
Mom!”

My heart
lifted at that word spoken in a beloved voice.

I ran to
him in baggage claim, and Cody threw his arms around me as soon as I was within
hugging range. There was no sweeter hug in the entire world. He talked a
million miles a minute as Briggs grabbed my bags off the belt. We headed to the
car, an inferno of hot air hitting me the instant we walked outside of the
Dallas airport. Briggs and I listened and laughed as Cody recapped his favorite
moments of soccer camp—again.