Chapter Forty-­Four

Chapter Forty-Four

Cecelia

"N o, no, no. Come on, man, no!" Eddie all but shrieks as we enter his bar. I can't help the laughter that bursts out of me as Tobias scowls at him. The last time we were here, Tobias all but destroyed this place due to our stand-off. From the looks of it, Eddie put the consolation money I left him to use. Glancing around, I give him a low whistle. "Looks great in here. New lighting."

Eddie towels off a glass. "Wonder how long I'll keep it."

A voice sounds up from behind us. "Chill, Eddie, we might only swing from the chandeliers once tonight." I turn to see Jeremy at the door, a grin splitting his face as I rush to him and he catches me mid-flight.

"Damn, girl, you only get more beautiful," he whispers as he lifts me from my feet in a bear hug before gripping my arms. "How you been?"

I gesture over my shoulder and raise my brows.

"Yeah, I get it. He's a jagged little pill, isn't he?"

"Watch it," Tobias snaps, and we both look over at him. He's completely relaxed, a gin in hand, dressed from head-to-toe in a newly cut Armani. For a second, I get lost in my attraction, and Jeremy slings an arm across my shoulders .

"Up for a game of pool?"

"I'm going to wipe the floor with your ass," I promise.

"Either that or she'll tap your nuts with her stick. It's a dirty trick." The sound of Russell's voice has me turning out of Jeremy's grip, a second before Russell sweeps me into a hug.

"You ass, I only did that once."

" Twice , my nuts were counting."

"Not that you need them. You'll never settle down," I say as he glances over at Tobias.

"Well, if he's not willing to secure you long-ter—"

"Finish that sentence," Tobias says evenly. " Please , finish that sentence."

Russell rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't want you to wrinkle that suit, Hugo."

Tobias sets his gin on the bar and discards his jacket, rolling up his sleeves, giving me a shot of arm porn. Memories surface of my time here, of days gone by, as the burn starts in my throat and Eddie brings out a pitcher of beer while Jeremy racks the pool balls. Stick in hand, Tobias glances over at me and lifts his chin in question as I nod in reply while my emotions threaten to take over just as "Wish You Were Here" begins to chime from the jukebox.

It's not perfect and not altogether the reunion I hoped for. Some of us aren't here. But this isn't then. It's in my love's eyes I see the same hint of sadness, and we hold our gaze until we're both strong enough to break it. For the next hour, I watch the three of them drink and bullshit, chiming in here and there. For the most part, my enjoyment comes from watching the camaraderie from nearly a lifetime of knowing each other, growing up together, a foundation built long ago before me. And while some things change, love remains the same. So we drink to that. We celebrate now, the new normal even as we tiptoe around the absence of a few irreplaceable Ravens—those who have passed and those who moved onto a different present as we all will when our time comes. And our time is coming sooner than later.

But we have tonight, and it's enough .

Buzzed from a few hours of beers with the boys, I light my red sparkler as the band marches by playing Christmas carols and catch Tobias scanning the crowd for the umpteenth time from where I stand at the edge of the street. When the sparks run out, I walk over to where he sits.

"If this makes you nervous, we can go."

"We're covered," he assures me, his posture rigid as he sits back, bundled in a snowman blanket in a lawn chair we picked up on the ride over.

"Is that why you look constipated?"

"Yeah," he says absently, and I burst into laughter and join him in the chair, kissing him in hopes of erasing the confusion from his expression. Instead, he tilts his head, returning my kiss, so he's got one eye on the crowd. Laughing into his mouth, he pulls away and gives a sheepish upturn of his lips.

"We can't live like this, Tobias."

"Just give me some time to adjust," he assures.

"How long?"

"Around seventy years," he says matter-of-fact, and I shake my head and smile. He taps the plastic arm of the chair and I lift his fingers and kiss them in an attempt to quiet some of his anxiety.

"We've got eyes everywhere, so what is it that's bothering you so much?"

"Cecelia, I do want to marry you."

I turn in his lap and look him over to see his expression is grave.

"Color me confused, Frenchman, but you don't seem too excited about it."

"That ends now. I'm not going to push important shit to the back burner anymore, and I've kept this confession to myself long enough. This is a conversation we need to have."

"It can all wait, Tobias. I'm no... I mean... put it this way, my biological clock is completely silent for the moment. "

"I'm kind of hoping you'll wait on a different clock." He swallows. "Before we do anything permanent."

I frown. "What?"

"I'm..." he shakes his head, emotion flitting over his features. "I would marry you right now, Cecelia. Right fucking now, I would give you a ring, a wedding, big or small, pledge my love, but I can't give you those promises because I might not be able to see them through, to keep them."

"If we're talking about fidelity, I may just fucking shoot you."

"I may be sick."

My body jars as volts of shock slice through my veins. I can barely manage to get the words out. "What do you mean sick?"

"You know. You've always known."

Two seconds is all it takes as he conveys to me the truth in his eyes.

"For everything I do, there's a reason behind it."

His reasoning for a lot of his actions all those months ago is the shame shadowing his features—his true weakness, the fear that plagues him the most.

My love.

My fucking love.

How blind I've been. How wrong I was in assuming I knew the totality of his fears, especially that day in his office when he let me walk out of his life. I always believed it was the danger that kept him pushing me away, nothing but the danger he could be to me. Over the years, I have been forced to assume a lot of his reasonings because of his evasion, and that's on him—but I'm done playing the blame game of where we both went wrong.

From this moment on, I'm done with assumptions because with this man, nothing has ever been what it seems. And in doing that, I can see the reasons for some of his past actions.

"You're afraid of schizophrenia? You're afraid you'll get sick like your father?" My eyes pour over.

"The woman I've been speaking to, Sonia—" he pushes out as if he's terrified of the words themselves—"was my father's psychotherapist at the mental institution. While he was being treated there, she started conversations with me. She could tell I was struggling with the fear, with my own issues. She's been helping me find my focus when my mind sometimes betrays me. There's no genetic testing for it... but some of my behavior is indicative that there's a possibility I could get sick."

"It's anxiety and OCD. There's a huge difference. He was twenty-eight when he was diagnosed, Tobias. You've lived almost ten years past that, already."

"It could still happen." He swallows. "I've got seven years until the ‘what if' clock ticks out, and even after there's a chance. There's a real possibility it could happen, Cecelia. And I do lose myself sometimes. Especially in the paranoia."

"It's to be expected with the line of work you're in."

"That's what she says." His eyes are cast down, and it devastates me—he's so deeply ashamed. "But she's more realistic than you are. There's a chance, Cecelia. I need you to acknowledge it."

"Okay." I close my eyes and hate the fact that I called him a coward just months before because the battle he faces daily makes him more heroic to me than anything ever could.

He shifts me on his lap, his knuckles running along my jaw.

"You know my... habits. You saw me get lost in my head in Virginia. I've been in several questionable states like that..." His eyes shine with fear as he looks to me, completely lost. "I have no control over if this happens to me. I'm not going to put you in the position my mother was put in, a young child to raise while her husband went fucking mad."

"Is this the reason you refused me when I showed up?"

"One of them. You're young, Cecelia. I've already robbed you blind. How much more could I take? I'm not that greedy." With that statement, my heart shatters into a million pieces.

"You take everything, Tobias, because I'm no good for anyone else. I won't ever be. It's only you. And I know what you're thinking, and you're right, I won't. I'll never leave your goddamn side. Never for that reason. Not ever . So don't ask me." He remains silent, his eyes dropping as I again force him to face me .

"Damnit, Frenchman, you don't get to hide from me anymore. Do you understand? Tell me you believe me, Tobias. I will never purposefully leave you for that. What hurts you, hurts me. What scares you, scares me," I murmur to him as he runs his nose along my jaw. "If we fail," I assure him, "we'll fail together. You'll never be alone again. Not ever."

Red-rimmed eyes lift to mine. "If there ever comes a time where I can't..."

"Stop. We aren't going to do that."

"This is where you let me be realistic."

I concede due to the sheer determination in his eyes. "We do it together unless I become incapable, which brings me to my next point. You decide."

"Decide what?"

"When to go back in, if we go at all."

"And what about what you want? What about my king?"

He nuzzles me. "Still in the making. For now, the queen is the one in control of the board."