CHAPTER 141 – The Grand Gesture

CHAPTER 141 – The Grand Gesture

Lisa's POV 

Leo stood up when he spots me, a polite acknowledgement that somehow feels both old and new. This is the man who used to scoop me up in his arms as soon as I entered a room. Now he is standing perfectly still, as if he is business partners with me rather than two people who were planning on making a life together.

"Hi," I say in a soft voice as I approach the table.
He motions to the chair opposite him. 

"Please, sit."

I sit down, and for a second we just stare at one another. He looks slimmer, I note.

He says at last, "Thank you for consenting to meet."

"Yeah right. I’d meet you anywhere, anytime.” The words bleed out more frantically than I had wanted to. "Leo, I —"

“Wait.” He raises a hand. “You need to listen to me before you say anything,” he says first.

My heart sinks. This is it. That's when he tells me it's done, that he can't do this anymore, that the trust is too damaged to fix.

"Okay," I whisper.

He takes a breath. "I've had a lot of time to think over the last few days. About us. About what happened. About whether we can roll back the years."

I hold my breath. 

“David called me. And Jennifer. And several other people. They informed me that Andre admitted he used Claire to fake being you.” He pauses. “I should have believed you straightaway and I'm sorry for that.”

“You don’t—”

“I do,” he says firmly. “You told me the truth and I didn’t believe you. I was so wrapped up in feeling like I’d been betrayed that I couldn't get around my own pain to believe that you were being honest.”

“You had every reason to not trust me.” I lied to you for a week. What makes you think I’m telling the truth this time?”

“Because that’s when you first lied to me.” His voice is quiet. “You’ve never once given me cause to question you in all the time we’ve been together. One week of lies should never have undone months of faith.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But it did. And that's on me as much as it's on you.”

Crying now, tears running silently down my cheeks. “Leo—”

“I’m not done." He reaches across the table, but appears to think again and retracts his hand. 

“I need to apologize for shutting you out too For sleeping in the guest room, for being cold and distant, for making you feel like you were being punished. That wasn't fair.”

“I deserved it—” 

“No one deserves that.” His stare is piercing. “You made a bad decision. A big one. But you didn’t deserve to be frozen out. That’s what we should have done, talked about it. I should have allowed you to explain. But instead I let my hurt turn to anger and I pushed you away.”

“I was the one that pushed you away first,” I say in my own defense. “By lying. Not by trusting you enough to let me deal with Andre.”

“Why didn’t you?” The question is not an accusation, only inquisitive in nature. "Why didn't you just tell me from the start?"

This is it. This is where I tell him all I found out today. All those things I put down in that notebook.

“Because I was scared,” I say honestly. “I’m afraid you’re going to think I still have feelings for him. Scared you’d think I was weak or broken or damaged. Afraid that if you knew my ex-husband could still hurt me, you’d know I was less put together than I wanted to appear.”

He’s quiet, listening.

“And because Andre tricked me into it,” I say. “Not deliberately—I wasn’t aware of it then—but he pressed every button that he activated while we were married. Like I had to take care of it by myself. Making me question whether I should trust you with it. Made me feel responsible for his problems.” 

I take the page out of my purse, the one I ripped from my notebook. "I wrote something today. While I was wondering why I did the things I did. Can I... can I read it to you?"

He nods. “Please.”

As I open the paper, my hands tremble. I take a breath and start reading, my voice is shaking but I am holding it together.

I read him everything. On pursuing Andre’s validation. Recognizing the patterns of manipulation. That Leo is nothing like Andre and Marcus can teach me a lot. That I see straight at last and that it isn’t who loves me or leaves me that determines my value.

After I've finished, I put the paper down and look at him. His eyes are glistening, he is holding his coffee cup so tightly that the knuckles are white.

“Lisa,” he says, hoarsely. “I did not know you were carrying so much baggage.”

"I didn't either. Not until today. Not until I really sat with it and I figured out what was actually driving my choices." rubbing at my face “I'm not making excuses." 

“I know.”

At last he leans across the table and takes my hand. The touch makes me tingle. "And I want you to know something. Lisa, you're not broken. You're healing. And healing isn't linear. It’s all fiddly and knobbly and sometimes you have to fudge backwards.”

“I took a lot of steps backward,” I say with a watery laugh.

"Maybe. But you’re also taking steps forward now. You did the work. You figured out the why. That matters."

Hope blooms in my chest. "Does that mean...?"

He squeezes my hand, then gently releases it. “It means I understand better. It means I believe you about everything — the impersonation, the manipulation, all of it. I know that you love me and I love you.”

"But – ?" I hear it coming.

“But I still need time.” Saying it pained him. "I need to know that you'll come to me the next time something tough comes up. That you'll trust me enough to be vulnerable with me. That you won't default to taking everything on by yourself."

“I will,” I say immediately. "I promise, Leo, I—"

“Don’t promise yet.” His voice is soft but commanding. “Because you can’t know that until you’re tested. Until something hard happens and you have to decide then whether to trust me or go it alone.”

He's right. Words are easy. Actually doing it — actually choosing vulnerability when every instinct says protect yourself — that’s the hard part. 

“So do we just wait and see?” I ask. ”Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.” Both of our expressions are going to pot real quick. “I want to be with you. I want to work through this. But I also need to be sure that we can. That we won’t be sitting in this same place six months from now.”

I have a thought. A sign that might convey to him that I’m taking this seriously. Around us.

“What if I gave you distance?” I say slowly. “Real space. It’s not like I’m texting you everyday or going to places. But I just need some time to think, to process, to figure out what I want.”

“I don’t want space from you—”

“But you do,” I murmur before he can finish. “You said so yourself. You need time to decide if you can trust me again.” I take a breath. “So take it. Take whatever time you want. And when you want — if you want — you know where to find me.”

He’s eyeing me closely. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying I’m done pushing. I'm not going to attempt to persuade you or plead my case or anything." As I say it, I am already planning for exactly that. "I'm going to let you have that space to make up your mind about what you want. And I'm going to have faith that if we're meant to be, you'll find your way back to me."

"Lisa—" 

“I love you,” I interrupt. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anybody.” 

“Because I love you,” I explain, “I’m going to let you have the space that you need, even if the space that you need is away from me.”

He is quiet for a long moment, his brown eyes are locked on mine. “What if the time I need is too much time? What if you move on?”

“I won’t,” I say flatly. “Leo, you’re it for me.” I’ll wait for you however long you want to — I don’t mind.”

“That’s not fair to you—”

“It’s my choice.” I stand, sling my purse over my shoulder. “Take the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

I bend down and plant a soft kiss on his brow, I allow my lips to rest just for a moment. He closes his eyes, and I can feel his jaw tightening up with emotion.

“I love you,” I whisper. “It’s not going to change.”

Then I turn and skate away before I can lose all my nerve, its entirety, and persuade him to come home with me, right this minute.

I make it to my car before the tears really start. I sit there, gripping the steering wheel, my whole body is shaking with sobs.

That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

Walking away. Giving him space when all I want is to hold him and never let go. But that’s what was right. He needs time. And I have to show him that I can bring him what he needs, even when it hurts.
I sit and wait, until I have no more tears. Then I pull my jacket around me, look up at the stars and drive home.



The house is dark and empty when I return.
I switch on lights as I make my way, in an effort to chase away the emptiness

But every room just makes me think of Leo. Of us. Of Everything I’m trying so very hard to not lose.”
I go to the bedroom and sit down at the tiny desk in the corner. I fetch out nice stationery—the type of paper I ordered months ago for my thank-you notes and have yet to use—and a pen.
And I start to write.

Not the raw, emotional venting in my notebook. But a bit more purposeful. More full. Anything I want Leo to know, everything I learned today, all I’m dreaming for our future.

I write for more than an hour, crossing out lines, starting over, searching for exactly the right words.
When I finally stop, my hand is cramping and I have used up three sheets of paper. But I have it. The letter that tells me everything I need to say.

Leo,
I’m writing this at midnight on a night when I should be lying next to you, not sitting alone in our bedroom trying to find words big enough to encompass everything I feel.I have been sitting here for two weeks watching the devastation return to our relationship because of decisions I made—decisions motivated by fears and insecurities I didn’t even know I still carried. This evening as I walked away from that cafe, it hit me now that words aren’t enough. I need to show you, not just tell you that I see what went wrong and that I’m dedicated to making sure it doesn’t happen again.

Today I've spent hours journaling, processing, trying to figure out why I let Andre back into my life for a moment. And what I realized is this: I was still trying to get validation from someone who never valued me. Throughout our entire marriage, Andre made me feel like I wasn't enough, and after his return -desperate and broken- part of me saw it as an opportunity to prove I'd won. That I'd changed into everything he said I couldn't be.

Then to get his validation, I almost lost the one person who has always valued me exactly as I am. You.

You never asked me to justify myself. Do not make me feel as if I owe your love. You gave it freely, you trusted me completely, and I betrayed that trust by lying to you.

I realize now that my inability to be open and vulnerable with you was rooted in patterns Andre created—patterns in which seeking help was a sign of weakness, trust was danger, and managing everything by myself was the only way to stay safe.

But I also know that breaking those patterns is my responsibility. You deserved so much more than I gave you. You should have been given the truth from the very beginning. You could have had a partner who trusted you enough to let you help him through a tough spot.

I can’t undo what I did. I can't rewind and do things differently. But I can tell you one thing: I’m done. I have confronted my past, I have recognized my patterns, and I am determined to break them. Not just for us, but me.

I know what matters more than what you say. I know you need to decide whether you can trust me again. So I’m holding out for you. We won't pressure you. We won’t have expectations. Just wait around until you want to come in.

Below is a key to our house - our home. It’s yours. It will always be yours. Whether you return tomorrow or in six months, or you never return, it’s still your home.

I choose you, Leo. I’ll just keep choosing you. How long it takes for you to choose me back—if you choose me back—I'll be here. 

Take as long as you need. I'll be here.

With all my love, Lisa

I have finished reading it three times and have made minor corrections. Once I'm happy, I fold it up neatly and put it in an envelope. 

Then I go to my jewelry box to get the spare house key— the one I'd given Leo months ago, the one he left on the kitchen counter the day he moved out.

I press it into my palm for a second, this tiny, metal object that stands for so much. Home. Trust. Belonging. Us.

I throw my clothes back on, snatch up the envelope and head over to the Marriott.

As I approach the desk the night clerk barely glances at me. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I have something to leave for Leo Hart. Room 412."

Without a word, she takes the envelope. "I will get it to him.”

"Thanks a lot."

I turn to go, then stop. “Actually, will you get it to him in the morning? It really means a lot to me.”

"Of course."

A strange calm settles over me as I walk back to my car. Hollow, but in a good way. Like I said everything I need to say, done everything I can do.

Now it' s up to Leo. I drive home down silent streets, park in the driveway, and go into the dark house.

This time, no lights. I just go upstairs and get in bed with my clothes on and lie there looking at the ceiling. 

I did. I bared myself completely. Put it all on the line. Gave him room and a way out, both in one motion.

So now I wait.
And hope.

And I have faith that if we’re destined to be together, love will find a way.