Page 63 of Play Pretend

It had been hours since we said goodnight, and in the dead of night, I felt safe grabbing the notebook. I sat up and flicked the lamp on. My fingers trembled as I opened it to a new entry, and I stared at the loopy writing. It was so pretty and girly, so unlike my little blocky letters.

Gracie put a label on my father today. Narcissist. I’d never heard the term before, but after she explained what it meant, I realized it was a perfect fit.

And I hate that it was a perfect fit.

I hate that this is the hand I was dealt. I hate that I couldn’t have a normal functioning family with parents who truly love each other. I hate that I learned what heartbreak was at a too-young age. I hate that I’ve been terrified of real relationships my entire life because of it.

I moved onto the next entry, my throat tight with emotion.

Sometimes I wonder if things would be easier if I would’ve never been born. My parents would’ve lived happy, separate lives. Maybe my mom would’ve gone on to find the man of her dreams, a man who would have treated her the way she deserved. Maybe she wouldn’t have a life of trauma at the hands of an emotionally abusive ex-husband.

I don’t know what my dad would’ve done with his life, but somehow, I don’t think it would be that far off from what he’s already done. He would’ve married some other woman and had a child with her, then left her for the woman he definitelywasn’thaving an affair with.

I wish I wasn’t so bitter. I wish I had the grace to let things go, to not hold on to grudges, but it’s hard. It feels impossible. And the more I try to ignore my feelings, the more they demand to be felt. The more they rear their ugly little heads and scream at me.

They remind me how unfair life is.

Maybe I’m just a bad person. Maybe it’s not a grudge I’m holding onto with a death grip. Maybe I’m a narcissist, an abuser, a terrible person who doesn’t allow people around me to live their lives. Maybe the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Maybe I’m just like him.

Because if I were a good person, I would’ve let this shit go already. I would’ve moved on with my life. I wouldn’t hold someone’s past against them. I wouldn’t blame them for the way I’ve turned out.

It’s not my dad’s fault that I slept my way through a million men when I was young, and it isn’t his fault that I felt nothing for any of them. It isn’t his fault that Daniel was awful to me, or that he cheated on me constantly and I stayed because it was better than being alone.

It’s not his fault that I’m now scared to open myself up to someone else, to fall in love with someone new. Because if every other man in my life has been a monster, has left me high and dry with nothing but years of therapy…then maybe it’s my fault.

I’m the common denominator in my life—I’m the reason why everyone left. I’m the reason no man wanted to stick around. I’m the reason why they viewed me as disposable. The reason why they used me and threw me away.

It’s my fault, not his.

Tears lined my eyes as I read the passage. I couldn’t believe this was the weight she was carrying, the pain that she held every day. I wanted to prove to her that not all men were monsters, that not everyone would leave her…but wasn’t that exactly whatI was going to do in a few weeks? When her family left, we’d go back to being nothing to each other.

I knew that was what we’d agreed to, but I still opened my mouth and demanded we had to make itreal. It was selfish of me. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have made her believe this was anything other than what it was: fake. It’ll only hurt her in the end, and I didn’t want to prove her right. I didn’t want to be just another man who let her down, who broke her heart.

But maybe thingscouldbe real between us. I could show her that my feelings were genuine. That she was worth the effort it took to be in a relationship, and that she was worth sticking around for.

She was beautiful, and funny, and sweet. And over the last few days, I’d found myself thinking about her every second of every day. She was the only person I wanted to see, the only person I wanted to talk to.

That had to mean something, right? That had to mean that I was beginning to like her—that I was falling for her. It would be stupid to not explore this with herfor real. But I had to be smart about it. I had to be careful because I didn’t want to spook her.

I took a deep breath as I shut the notebook. If this was what I wanted, I had to be totally sure about it. Breaking her heart was not something I could live with, intentionally or not. I couldn’t have any doubts about her, about us.

And the scary thing was that I didn’t.

willow

“You are way too cheery this morning,” Gracie said as she set the empty tray on the counter. I grinned at her, but it seemed to only make her suspicions rise. “Whyare you so happy?”

I shrugged and dried my hands on the towel. Where did I even begin? So much had happened in just a few days. Ronan and I stayed up late the last two nights texting. He was so kind, and so funny—much kinder and funnier than I ever expected. Before our arrangement, he’d been so serious all the time and seeing a softer side to him had been…nice.

He was unlike any man I’d ever known, and I had to keep reminding myself that we were just friends who’d eventually go back to being just neighbors. We’d be nothing to each other again, and I was already anticipating how badly it was going to hurt.

“Things with Ronan are good,” I said simply. Her brows rose as she took a sip of her water.

“So, it’s real then?”

That lead brick in my stomach sank lower. “No.”

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