Page 55 of Van Cort

“Whole. I’d like to be whole, River. And at peace. I’d heard that love does that to a guy. I didn’t believe it, but being in love does make everything so much more vivid. It opens possibilities and shows me options and thoughts and desires that I never thought I’d have, I deserved, or I wanted.”

“Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“I just said exactly that.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you did. Say it clearer.”

My mouth quirks, and I slide my hand in my pockets. “Romance?”

“Not necessarily. Just better than that.”

“Okay. Yes, River. I am in love with you, and I know it because the first thing I thought of when you asked me if I wanted the house to be more like me is that I’d rather it be more like you.

I’d rather you helped me get rid of every hateful memory I have there and we built new ones, together.

” The intercom buzzes in the background as I look at her, interrupting what should be a moment just for us.

“I can’t say it any clearer than that. I want to be there, but only if you’ll come with me. ”

She just stares at me, slightly open-mouthed, as if she didn’t expect to hear any of that.

I want to smile, to find it amusing in some way that she never knew or expected it, but that’s the part of me that lives in other people’s misery and pain.

And the last thing I want is her feeling any pain.

The shame of it is, regardless of this honesty from me, she is going to feel pain.

At some point very soon, it’s going to hurt like hell, and that’s because of me – because of my brother.

I turn and walk back to the kitchen to answer the door, and when I open it, I find three sad-looking boxes of pizza waiting for me on the hall table.

I look at them, and then over my shoulder to where she still is.

This whole conversation needs more than this, more love, more trust, more offer of forever.

Money, I have. Status I have, too, but asking her to do this with me, with us, is a step that most wouldn’t even consider rational, let alone plausible.

Turning, I go grab her bag and walk back to the garden terrace.

She’s still sitting there, staring and thinking.

“Up,” I say. “We’re going out.”

She shifts her gaze to look at me. “Out?”

My finger beckons as I leave the outdoor space.

“Yes. I want to show you something, do something.” It doesn’t matter that West never answered me, or that he’s probably still overthinking how much he hates me, or how much he doesn’t trust me.

He’ll say yes. Of course he will, because I would if roles were reversed. It’s who we are.

“What about the pizza?” she says, moving towards me.

I hold one of the boxes up. “We’ll eat on the way.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Andre has pulled around the front of the building by the time we get to the lobby, and the journey through downtown goes by with her picking at pizza and continuously looking at me.

“What’s going on, Everett?” she asks, as we pull up.

I get out and take the pizza box from her, putting it back in the car.

“Something to help you understand how I feel.” I hold my hand out for her, smiling.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, that I haven’t, but I do mean what I’m saying, River.

I mean it all. None of what has already happened between us would have happened at all if I didn’t. ”

She takes my hand and I lead her up the steps. The wide doors stay firmly shut as we approach them, and they don’t open until I send a code via text that needs confirming for entry.

Eventually, one of the doors folds inwards, and a security guard meets me.

The last time I was in the place was the week after our father died.

The old lawyer at the time gave me the information necessary to gain access.

He had to, despite my father’s insistence that I was never to know.

The state had ordered it because they couldn’t function without my newly acquired assets.

Previous to that, I never even knew it existed. I doubt West does to this day.

Thumbprint taken, and we’re walked to the manager’s desk where two more security guards meet us, heavily armed at that.

Her hand squeezes in mine, and she tucks herself in tighter to me. “Seriously, what is going on?” she hisses at my side.

“It’s fine, River. Relax.”

“Could you sign this please, Ma’am?” the manager asks her.

“She doesn’t need to,” I answer. “She’s my guest.”

“Mr Van Cort, we need verification of all visitors and-”

“Open the doors, you fucking idiot.”

An exasperated and completely futile sigh from him, followed by several clicks on his keyboard, and we’re moving again.

One security guard walks in front of me, another behind the manager who’s leading us to the downward elevator.

It’s a silent journey, other than hard soles and heels on marble floors, and it’s filled with a sense of heightened anticipation on their part and morose foreboding on mine.

Needs must, though, and the eventual sight of the first set of vault doors waiting for us makes me pull in a slow breath.

Father.

It’s all him still. Even if it’s me now.

The manager offers his hand to the scanner. “Sir, please.”

I lean forward, letting it trace my iris.

He scans his own eye to initiate the outer looks, and then backs off to a small anteroom, leaving the guards next to me, before closing the door.

They take up their position, looking away from me and back towards the main entrance, as the mechanical systems start whirring quietly into place.

“Everett?” she asks, flexing her hand in mine against the pressure I’m exerting. She steps around in front of me. “Are you okay?” Barely. “You’re shaking. Is this something to do with your father?” Yes.

I smile at her understanding of me, even if she doesn’t know it yet, and wait for the doors to fully open.

The reveal comes slowly, until we’re finally met with the original vault doors from the early 1920s.

Art Deco images almost melt into the artistry, heavily countered by the Romanesque columns alongside them.

“Everett, is that gold?” she asks.

“Yes.”

She reaches for her necklace, clasping the small pendant. “Your gold?”

“Also, yes.”

The outer doors close behind us, and the moment they do, she jumps at the sound of the inner mechanisms starting to work, her grip now rivalling mine.

My chin lifts as the doors finally open, and I stare into the space, a snarl forming. Old, now healed bruises seem to swell inside me, rising to the surface. They still hurt, even now. I should have killed him for that. Could have. Didn’t.

I did find this, though.

Letting go of her hand, I head directly to the centre of the room to take the small gold box off its perch.

Despite all of the bars of gold, the only thing of any personal merit I found that day was our mother’s engagement ring.

It had been hidden here, kept from us. He told me that in one of the many arguments, that I’d never find it or be able to use it.

Why should I be allowed to? Why should either of us be able to have something that was so precious to him when we’d taken her from him?

We’d never have that kind of love. We didn’t deserve it.

We fucking do.

I turn to find her gingerly entering the vault, hands hovering at her chest and clenched tight as if she’s uncomfortable.

She shouldn’t be, because all this can be as much hers as it is mine if she wants.

I’ll rip that contract up if she agrees to both of us.

That’s all I need in life. Those callous words bound in leather might have been the start of us, but they’re so far from the moment we’ve now arrived in that there’s no point even debating them.

I just want us. All of us.

“I want to marry you, River. I want to live the rest of my life with you as a part of me.” Her eyes widen as I approach her with the box in my hand and flip it open.

“Everything in this room pales into insignificance alongside you. Do you see that? You’re my gold.

You’re the thing I need.” She looks more shocked than I imagined she would. “Marry me.”