Page 53 of Love He Denied
Charlotte's breath stopped.
"Her name is Charlotte Hoffman. She’s a teacher here. Most people call her Charlie. Her students call her Miss Hoffman, and they think she hung the moon, and they're right." He looked out at the audience. Charlotte couldn't tell if he'd found her in the crowd, but she felt his gaze like a searchlight.
"Charlie is the kind of teacher who learns every kid's name on the first day of school and remembers their siblings' names by the second. She's the teacher who stays until six grading papers and then goes home and calls the parents who couldn't make conference night because they're working double shifts. She's the teacher who notices.”
"She buys supplies with her own money. She drove forty-five minutes to a student's grandmother's funeral last spring because her student asked her to. She tutors — for free, in this building, in this gym — because she believes that no child should fall behind because their family can't afford extra help. She once spent an entire weekend building a reading nook out of donated pillows and a shower curtain rod because her classroom didn't have one and her kids deserved one."
Charlotte's hand was over her mouth. She hadn't known he knew about the reading nook. She hadn't known he knew about the funeral. He must have asked about her at the school. Doing everything he could to truly know her.
"She is the most generous person I've ever met," Dominic continued. "And I don't mean generous with money, though she gives away more of her salary than anyone should have to. I mean generous with herself. With her attention, her time, her belief that every person she meets is worth seeing. She gives it to her students every single day. She gives it to everyone in thisroom, and most of you have no idea how much it costs her, because she never lets it show."
Charlotte's vision blurred. Kate's hand found her elbow: grounding, steady.
"Tonight, I'm announcing the establishment of the Hoffman Education Fund." He paused, let the name settle over the room. "A permanent endowment, housed within the Gallison Foundation, dedicated to arts integration in public schools. The fund will provide annual grants to teachers who do what Charlie does every day — show up, pay attention, and believe that every kid deserves to be seen."
A murmur moved through the crowd.
"I named it for her," Dominic said, "because she taught me what paying attention looks like. What dedication looks like.” His eyes found her now.
Charlotte blinked back tears as Dominic stepped off the stage. The applause was loud and sustained, but Charlotte didn't hear it. She was moving. Through the crowd, past Kate, past the punch table, past Eric and Regina.
She reached Dominic near the side of the stage. He was standing with his hands at his sides, watching her come toward him, and his face — his beautiful, complicated face — was completely unguarded.
Charlotte didn't say anything. She put her arms around him, pressed her face into his chest and held on. His arms came around her. He held her back. The gymnasium full of people watched. She didn't care. The last time a room full of people had watched them together, it had been the worst moment of her life. This was not that. This was theoppositeof that. This was Dominic choosing her, in front of everyone, with her name.
"You named it after me," she said into his shirt.
"I named it after you."
"You absolute—" She pulled back. Her face was wet. "You made me cry in front of my students."
"They'll forgive you."
Later, they left together. They went to his apartment this time. He’d recently moved to an apartment in the West Village. It was nothing like the gray-and-chrome apartment she'd moved into during their engagement, where every surface was cold and every room looked like a magazine spread. It was a brownstone floor-through with exposed brick and wide windows and bookshelves that were actually full. She recognized some of the titles — education policy, arts integration research,A Tree Grows in Brooklynwith a bookmark three-quarters through.
He'd bought her favorite book. He was reading her favorite book.
She turned to him, her heart full. "I love you," she said.
The words came out steady and sure. She'd spent over a year learning how to stand on her own, and now she was standing in front of him, choosing to say the most dangerous thing she knew how to say, because he'd earned it.
His eyes closed. Opened. The blue of them in the lamplight was absurd.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"I love you. I never stopped, Dominic. It was buried under hurt and pain, but it’s always been there. I didn’t want it. I wanted it gone. But ever since you came back in my life… you’ve proven that you’re still worthy of it.” She put her hand on his face. “And it’s not about the foundation, though that’s amazing. It’s about… everything. It’s about you.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. His lips against her lifeline, her heartline, the maps of her hand that she'd never believed in and suddenly wanted to.
"Charlie Hoffman," he said. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
She laughed. "Your girlfriend?"
"My girlfriend. My partner." He took her hand from his face and held it in both of his. "Don't worry. I'm not going to ask you to marry me. Not yet. But I'm not going to lie to you either." He paused. His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "You're it for me, Charlie. The love of my life. I want you to be my wife. The mother of my children. And I'm going to spend every day between now and then earning you, and every day after that earning you all over again."
Charlotte's breath caught. "That's a lot of words for 'will you be my girlfriend,'" she finally managed to say. Her voice was thick.
"I'm a recovering corporate executive. Brevity is a work in progress."
