Page 5 of I Love a Good Challenge

He smiles, a hint of empathy at the corners of his mouth. “I think that’s a worthy dream to have.”

I nod. My breath hitches. If he hears, he doesn’t make me feel bad about it.

“Side note: Why would you take up boxing?” His head tips in an adorable way. It’s a charming hint of a man letting himself play.

“As an alternative to loving you, of course.”

Graham’s eyes glimmer with what can only be described as pure delight.

“Okay, Mystery Woman,” he says with a grin. I don’t hate it. “Aside from the potential awkwardness of meeting on Valentine’s Day, the truth is I don’t have a valentine, and I’m in the mood for coffee. Would you happen to be in the mood for some too?”

I most definitely am, but I act like I’m thinking about it. He already has possession of a secret I’ve never told anyone. At this point, surely coffee won’t harm this version of “LA Lily.” She feels like a version of myself I’ve never met before. I have a sense of wanting to verbally spar with him, and it’s like seeing tiny buds on once-barren trees. It’s exhilarating and feels a bit like nothing could go wrong. What a rare hope. I want to capture it in a mason jar and see if it glows.

“As long as we get chocolate first,” I demand. And then, fueled by boldness and a desperate need for him not to turn out like my parents or like all the men who haven’t been honest with their intentions, I issue a challenge. “Oh, and George? Don’t ever lie to me.”

He stops, hands shoved in his pockets and an intensity radiating from his features. “I told you I never lie.”

As we continue to walk, insecurity starts to creep in. It’s a shadow of that ugly beast I’ve been trying to beat. If there’s any sense in this man, he’ll realize that no man has lasted beside me for long. It’s only a matter of time before he splits like a chocolate candy shell when I’ve poured it into the mold, and it’s too thin. Still, I have this unprecedented urge to give him the pieces of myself I’ve pulled behind a curtain ever since I learned how to sew one across the confines of my heart.

“You should know I’m a lot.” I break our comfortable silence. “I rarely hold my tongue, and I take getting used to. If you decide that I’m too much at any point, please be gentle. Got it?”

He pauses on the sidewalk again. When I turn to see his face, I almost immediately wish I hadn’t. Instantly, I realize that this smile he’s giving me—a full one that crinkles the sides of his eyes and reveals the dimples placed close to his neatly trimmed beard—will stay with me for years to come.

“Well, good thing I’m a gentleman.” It’s the kindness of his tone that sticks to me like honey and loosens my tongue.

“I’m Lily,” I say without overthinking. After a smile like the one he just gave me and the honesty between us, it feels only right to give him something he can hold onto now too.

“Lily,” he repeats, his voice laced with—if I had to guess—a bit of something like wonder.

He leans toward me. Just when I’ve convinced myself to breathe normally despite the nearness of him, he holds out his arm for me to take. I may have joked about musicals, but the moment does feel a bit as if a song could break out like a darling Old Hollywood film—one of those that my best friend back home has made me watch dozens of times over the years. Maybe it’s the proximity to Hollywood that has me finally understanding what all the fuss is about. There is a lightness in the not-frigid air that fills my senses, the sound of fresh birdsongs in the wind, and the sensation that I need the courage to believe my heart when it urges me to do whatever it takes to fight for this brand-new feeling.

∞∞∞

Over the next month, I feel like I’m flying. The sweetness Graham adds to my life feels addicting. We hardly spend a day without each other. And for a while, my fears are quieted. There are moments of intensity, a tug of war between two people, ignited by attraction but grounded by care. He tells me he loves me. I tell him I know.

We adventure together all around the city. I keep him a secret, even from my best friend. I regret it, even though I think the more we can shield what we have, the longer we’ll last.

Everything else feels perfect. After long days of being covered in chocolate and thrilled with the progress I’m making, we collapse into each other with the best hugs of my life and hold on tight. We watch Pride & Prejudice a few more times, including the one from the 90s. I commit to memory the feeling of his fingers in my hair and his hands around my waist. I become undone by the aftermath of his kisses, knowing my lips have never been so thoroughly adored, and by the intensity with which he cares for me and keeps me close. He does everything he can to make me believe he finds me beautiful. That I am beautiful. How? He tells me. He shows me in both mundane and tangible ways how much he values me. How much he chooses me.

We talk about our plans. We make plans. I tell him I can’t wait to discover all the ways I can drive him wild and learn all the pieces of the story that have made him who he is.

My time in LA starts to run out. Knowing that I must leave Graham soon, even if only temporarily, makes me feel so lost that I don’t know which parts of me are breaking or mending. In a new take on the fears that continuously plague me, I begin to doubt my ability to love him as much as he loves me. I wonder when he’ll realize he has had enough of me.

Even though I told him not to lie to me, I feel the lie I tell myself gripping my mind as the weeks progress. It’s the lie that says I have to push him away before he does it for the both of us. I will myself to make him the exception to my dysfunctional views on love and my own self-worth.

On the night before my return flight home, when my defenses are shattered, and my entire soul is on high alert, we grab takeout and sit on the front end of his car. We watch the ocean together, the sound of the waves breaking around us. I drop a mini chocolate bar to the ground, and as he hops down to grab it, I see a ring box peeking out of the pocket of his suit jacket.

And then I break Graham’s heart.

Chapter Three

Lily

SIXTEEN MONTHS LATER - SUMMER

The rush of the water below feels like a balm to my soul as I lean on one of the bridges that span the river in my small town of Birch Borough. I’m out on my daily walk, and as usual, I’ve instinctively turned toward the water. The river that runs through the center of town has always been a grounding place for me. The stone arch of the bridge beneath my forearms is cool, a dichotomy to the warmth of the sun on my face. The heat in the air sticks to my skin and reminds me that I’m alive.

Maybe it’s the wildness of it all as the water crashes over the rocks and still makes it to the other side. Or how the thunderous sound quiets my thoughts and fears and reminds me that life keeps moving, even when we feel stuck.

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