Even After All

Part Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Three

Dylan was amazed, he hadn’t truly thought things through. She’d followed him, said what she said without realising what he’d offered her. Suddenly it all changed, he’d presumed she’d chased him knowing all that he’d put on the table, the fact that she hadn’t even looked...

He’d sat at his computer earlier trying his best to think of what he could do, how he could manage to make this work, and he’d then thought of the hotel. Him taking it over had been where this had all changed, but if he gave her some sort of foothold in his company, then he could make her the owner, the hotel could be hers to run, hire, fire, profit or loss. He’d hoped that would make her happy, that she’d know that things could work out even if they didn’t decide to try again. That he was separating their work from their relationship, giving her the freedom he’d taken away. That ugly argument and her resigning was always in the back of his head.  

He’d hoped that this was the white dove, the flag of surrender. But as he watched her turn towards him he could see anger on her face. She was seeing it as anything but.

                “Were you about to buy me off? Was that what this was?”

He rolled his eyes as Matilda stared at him, “are you going to take this the wrong way too? Bloody hell woman! How many hoops do I have to jump through?”

She shrugged, “this was the gesture? I can’t fathom it. This is the price you put on us?”

He grabbed her hands and shook his head, “NO. This is me thinking of the big picture. I know that you feel vulnerable, that you’ve been looking for other jobs. But you ARE the hotel. It is more about you than it ever was about me. You wanted me to prove that I was serious; you wanted to know how I feel? Well this is how I feel. I honestly believe I’ve taken away your stability...again. I want you to feel safe, independent. Working for me, with me...it’s never going to work long term, not if we’re living together too.”

                “Living together?” she breathed not sure how the tone of the conversation had changed to swiftly.

He nodded, “of course...I know you don’t want to rush things, but I’m planning, I’m looking to the future.” He reached for the envelope and opened it, pulling out further papers. “You’ll take this wrong too, I’m sure. But these are prospectuses, all the housing projects, new builds, major renovations, happening between the hotel and London, they won’t be ready for several months, but I thought we could look, plan ahead.” As she made to protest he shook his head, “no. Don’t talk. Listen. I have let you do everything you want to punish me, I know I was wrong and I let you whip me as hard as I have castigated myself, I get that. But do you want to hear what I want? How I see our future?” She gave a silent nod, “I sat today and tried to think how I could prove to you that I was serious, that I want a future with you. And all I could do was think of what I wanted in the future. And what I saw was you running the hotel, more than competently...” he smiled. “Me, occasional trips overseas, but mainly managing things from home...not a London apartment sterile, devoid of life, but a house, a home, decorated with pictures from our holidays, filled with colour and life. That’s what I want...you, a home, a life.”

He saw her gasp, take in a quick rushed breath, “really?”

He nodded, “it’s what I wanted six years ago, I was just too stubborn to admit it. You know how rubbish my life has been, if I think today about ‘home’, well it’s our little flat that patchwork quilt, the tiny kitchen, a home filled with life and love...since I met you, you made me realise what I wanted from life. You...me...a warm friendly home...nothing like my mother’s. I want kids...I told you that, and I know that I hurt you with my actions over that...but it was guilt at myself, guilt at what I’d forced on you, nothing else. I swear.”