Best of all, it had brought Sebastian.

She read the same thoughts in the people around her, the way they were all looking inward, acknowledging the things they’d done right, considering the changes they needed to make.

“Some of you probably know about my childhood. About where I came from. It wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t fun. Wasn’t happy. So if I could do it, if I could learn how to believe that I deserved happiness, then you can too.” He spoke to her. He spoke to everyone. Fifty thousand people were completely silent, no whispering, no chattering. No one left for a soda or a hotdog or to use the restroom. They couldn’t bear to miss a thing, drinking in his every word.

Wanting to believe.

Listening to Sebastian, watching him, feeling him, Charlie wanted to believe too. In this moment, he made her feel as though she truly could do anything. Better yet, he made her feel that she wanted it all too. That she should ignore her hesitation to reach out and grab the glittering brass and diamond rings, and go for it with all she had. Maybe the thought of being a huge star in the art world still didn’t sit quite right with her, but she could learn to be comfortable with the thought of being successful. She could do it. Sebastian helped her believe.

“It’s not about the money.” He laughed, holding up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, right.” He brushed his palms down his expensive suit. “Seriously, though,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “money is great, and I hope all of you make a lot of it doing what you love, but in the end it’s not about the money. Not if you get rich but hate your job while you’re doing it. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He was greeted with shouts of agreement. “You deserve to enjoy what you do. You deserve to have a job that’s a vocation, that has meaning, that gives you satisfaction, and makes you feel like you’re giving something back.” He paused again with impeccable timing, letting the audience ponder. “Let’s talk about how to figure that out.”

An hour and a half seemed like mere minutes as he offered up a clear-cut pathway to opportunity and success. But Sebastian went a step further—he made it personal too, by telling everyone more about his parents, his struggles, about never feeling he was good enough. Then he told them how he’d had people who believed in him, like his adopted mom and dad, Susan and Bob, and his friends. He explained that they’d helped him learn how to believe in himself.

“You don’t have to do this all alone. But you can make changes.” His voice rang out. “You can do anything. Absolutely anything.” He stepped back, drank from his water glass, and for a long moment, he held the big tumbler in front of him, staring, until he turned back to his audience, his fans, his devotees. “We’re almost done, but before I leave, I want to tell you about a lovely lady I met a few weeks ago.”

Charlie’s heart did a somersault as his eyes found and held hers for a split second.

“Francine is the sweetest thing. Tiny.” He held out his palm to demonstrate her height against his chest. “She’s friendly, upbeat, always with a smile or a laugh even though she has severe arthritis and uses a walker to get around. Most people would be in a wheelchair or bedridden. All her finger joints have been replaced.” He held up the tumbler. “Imagine not being able to hold this glass in one hand. Imagine that even two-handed, this glass would slip out of your fingers.” He let it slide until it almost fell, catching it at the last second. “Imagine you couldn’t jog down the stairs, that your ankle bones had disintegrated and the only thing holding each foot together was a steel bolt and some staples. Imagine your vertebrae had to be fused just so you could hold your head up. Imagine the shocking pain. And yet—” He held up the glass again, pausing. There was complete silence, unbroken by even the whisper of fifty thousand breaths. “And yet, every single day you get up and you walk a mile. No matter what.” As Sebastian set down the glass, he said, “Do you know how much farther a mile is for her than for you and me?”

Charlie knew. Sebastian obviously did as well. Though he was a good thirty feet away on the stage, she could feel his anguish at not being able to help as if it were her own. Which it always had been. Until he walked into their lives and tried to help in any way he could.

“Francine tells me that if she didn’t walk, she’d be in a wheelchair or a bed. Use it or lose it.” He made air quotes to show that they were Francine’s words. “There are days she doesn’t want to. Days when she can barely move because the pain is too great.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper that echoed in the auditorium. “But then she gets up, aims her walker, and starts that mile.”

Emotion squeezed Charlie’s chest as he said, “So I ask you, can you walk a mile? Every day, rain or shine, pain or gain, because you know you have to just to stay alive, just to breathe. Can you walk that mile?”

And Charlie began to cry.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Charlie couldn’t hear Sebastian’s closing words as everyone in the auditorium rose to their feet with thunderous applause, their unspoken answer to his question perfectly clear: Yes, they would all walk that mile. Simply because Sebastian Montgomery believed they could.

On the way out, he grabbed Charlie’s hand and they were propelled down the aisle to a small reception in the green room. Everyone wanted to touch him, as though something magical might rub off. He was polite, friendly, and accepted compliments with humility.

The most amazing thing of all was that he acted no differently at the reception than he had on stage. He was the same man who’d walked into her studio and said her art was magnificent. The same man who’d told her all about his parents and upbringing after dinner at his house. The same man who’d driven her wild with need every second of every day since they’d met.

He had power no matter where he was, but it didn’t come from arrogance. It had come from walking many long miles, the way her mother continued to do every single day.

Two hours later they were ushered out and into a waiting helicopter that flew them to the airport. In the VIP lounge, finally alone with Sebastian for a few moments, she said, “Thank you for letting me see you in action.”

“It was my pleasure.” He reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’ve been privileged to see what you do. I was hoping you would enjoy this.”

She shook her head, knowing he shouldn’t be comparing the two of them. “I make art. But you—” There was no other way to put it. “You inspire the world.”

“You inspire too, Charlie. More than you know. Especially now that everyone will see your sculptures once you take your rightful place at the top of the field.”

As always, when he talked about her impending ascent to the top of the art world, her stomach twisted. Frustration bubbled up in her for a split second before she could shove it away, along with the question she’d been asking herself for weeks: Why do I keep having these doubts?

But today of all days wasn’t a time for doubts. Not when Sebastian’s tribute to her mother had been beyond beautiful. It had never been clearer that compared to the struggles other people went through, Charlie had absolutely nothing to complain about. So what if she was worried about her life changing—and about whether or not she could fit into Sebastian’s world the way he obviously wanted her to? She’d have to get over her doubts.

“My mother will love that you told her story.” She touched his arm, admiring the play of strong muscles beneath her fingers nearly as much as she’d admired him on that stage. “It means a lot to me to know you understand.”

“I didn’t plan what I said, but with you watching me, all I could think about was how much you give to her, and how completely deserving she is. Both of you possess an indomitable spirit.”