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Yeats? What the fuck? I’d heard of Keats. Not Yeats. I stayed silent.
He opened the book and cleared his throat. “How many loved your moments of glad grace. And loved your beauty with love false or true. But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you. And loved the sorrows of your changing face…”
I closed my eyes, savoring his low, gentle voice and the tender words that washed over me. A sudden ache pressed at my throat. “Pilgrim soul. That’s beautiful.”
I opened my eyes to find him watching me. “Yes. I think so, too.”
A thick silence swirled between us. We were silent for so long I could almost hear the wood in the ancient bookcases that lined the library creaking under the weight of their heavy tomes. I kept my face turned to the window and watched Reece’s reflection in the dark glass. I had the strangest urge to shuffle closer across the window seat toward him, but I didn’t dare.
He cleared his throat. “People say that Yeats wrote this for a lover he was infatuated with. Lots of people loved this woman for her external beauty, but he sees something deeper—the restlessness inside of her, the sorrow—and he promises that he will always love her, even as she grows old.”
The crackling fire in the hearth grew loud. The moonlight dancing over his strong, proud profile entranced me. “What happened? Did they end up together?”
Reece’s voice was as soft as a kiss. “No. I don’t think so.”
A sudden pain speared my chest. The words spilled out of me, unbidden. “All those years together and I don’t think Sean ever cared for me like that. He treated me like I was another football trophy in his cabinet. I loved him… at the start, anyway.” My voice wavered, and I took a breath. “Not anymore. Not for a long time. I don’t know why I didn’t have the balls to end things sooner. I don’t know if anyone will ever love my pilgrim soul.”
Reece closed the book, his face still turned to the window. “Why would you think that?”
“Sean says I’m not easy to love. I’m loud. I’m stubborn. I work too many hours at the club. I’m easily irritated. Sean didn’t want me to meet his parents because I have all these tattoos. I can’t cook. My hair sticks up at the front. I have all these scars on my cheek. There are lot of things wrong with me—”
“I don’t see a single thing wrong with you.”
I couldn’t help my derisive snort. I had to put a stop to this conversation, because something weird had happened to me. The stress of the party and the words of the poem had made my heart ache when I’d been working so hard to keep things together. If I wasn’t careful, I could burst into tears at any moment. “You’re just being nice.”
“No. I’m being honest. You’re perfect. Just as you are.”
My eyebrows shot up. Surprise at his admission held my lips glued shut. Reece thought I was perfect? The fire in the hearth grew loud again, the heat licking all over the bare skin of my arms. Reece opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but closed it again. Unease flickered in his dark eyes, but he regained his composed, measured demeanor so swiftly that perhaps it had been imagined.
I spoke just to fill the awkward silence. “Whoever that woman was, she was an idiot. If someone wrote a poem like that about me, I wouldn’t let him get away.”
“Maybe there were reasons they couldn’t be together.” Reece kept his gaze fixed on the book he gripped in his lap. “Sometimes love is complicated.”
“Love is the only thing in this world that isn’t complicated. Whatever the problem, love will always win.”
Reece’s intense eyes locked with mine. The reflection of flames from the fire danced in his glasses. “Do you think so?”
“Yes. Even after everything that happened with Sean, I still believe in love. Don’t you?”
A slight frown pulled at his brow but only for a fraction of a second before he held out the book to me. “Here. Gabe doesn’t mind me borrowing the books. Nobody reads anything in here. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you want to read this.”
His elegant fingers brushed mine as he passed me the book. A delicious tingle—hot and charged like electricity—sizzled up my bare arm at the light touch. My skin erupted with goosebumps. My shocked gaze met Reece’s.
A cold wind rushed inside, making the fire hiss.
“Skylar?” The low familiar voice drifted from the open doorway.
The book slipped from my fingers with a heavy thud. Sean stood watching us. My stomach dropped. I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d kicked him out. A sudden flash of guilt at being caught alone with another man made my shoulder blades cold before a torrent of righteous indignation swept over me. No. Fuck that. I had no need to feel guilty. I could talk to whoever the hell I wanted. Sean didn’t get a say anymore. I jumped down from the window seat and smoothed my dress.
Sean weaved toward us on unsteady legs. His overpowering scent of liquor hit my nose. How drunk was he? Had he said anything about me to the girls downstairs? Reece’s hand brushed mine. He towered next to me, somber and silent.
Sean stumbled forward. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Who the hell is this guy?”
Warmth crept into my face.
Reece held out his hand to Sean. He kept his tone light and affable. “I’m the new team psychologist, Reece.”
Sean glanced at Reece’s hand but didn’t shake it. My chest tightened. Reece didn’t need to be stuck in the middle of this. I needed to get Sean out of here before he caused a scene or said anything to my girls.
