Page 122 of Ordinary Secrets

I’m the first to raise my voice. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that I wanted to be alone tonight. Is that too much to ask?” She’s planted on the edge of her mattress as I pace her bedroom floor. My hair is all messy from how many times I’ve run my hands through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

She groans, exasperated. “For the third time, no.”

My knees thump onto the carpet as I kneel in front of her. In my sweetest voice possible, I say, “Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.”

She rubs her long hair between her fingers, looking anywhere but at me.

I grab her hand to stop her from fidgeting. “Babe, please. What’s wrong?”

“I . . . I’ve been having doubts . . . about us.”

I shoot up onto my feet. “What?” I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, and here she is questioning it? “Why?”

“I dunno. I feel like lately, we’ve been having too much sex. I feel like it’s all you want me for. You want it all the time. When we wake up. After lunch. After dinner. Before bed. It’s just a lot.”

“First off,” I say, scoffing because my ego is slightly bruised, “sex is not the only thing I want you for. And second, I didn’t realize you weren’t enjoying it. I can tone it down.”

“Idoenjoy it, Trey.”

“Then what’s the problem?” This isn’t the real issue. There’s something else. Is it because of all those things she listed off that’s weird about me? Last week, I made it a point to stay in bed with her throughout the night, and I haven’t been working out lately, to avoid her questions about how I don’t sweat.

“I...” Her tone softens. “I don’t want to end up as a part of your list.”

“My list?”

“Yeah. You know. The list of girls you’ve fucked and forget about later.”

List of girls I’ve fucked? What?Obviously, she doesn’t understand how special she is to me, probably because I haven’t told her that I love her. I want to say those words, but I don’t know how. And now isn’t the right time.

I kneel in front of her again, taking her hands into mine. “Arella, you arenota part of any list. Don’t ever think that. You mean so much more to me than that. You have no fucking clue how broken I’d be without you. Honestly, I don’t think I’d beable to function.” Those are the realest words I’ve ever said to anyone, and I mean all of it.

Her voice gets small, and she places a hand over her heart. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I’ve been asking you to move to Paris with me. How else would I feel about you?”

She rolls her head back, yanking her hands away. “Ugh! Paris!”

“What?” I hate the way she saysParislike it’s a poisonous word.

“You keep bringing it up.”

“And?”

“Trey, I’m not moving to Paris!” Now, it’s her who’s shouting.

“Why not?”

“Oh my god.” She clasps her hands against her face. “I cannot keep having this same conversation with you over and over.”

I throw my arms up in surrender. “Just hear me out, okay? Picture this. You. Me. In a villa. Every day, we wake up to a beautiful sunrise. Every night, we fall asleep together with our little puppy. We could even travel for a while before settling into a place. Eventually, you could own your own bakery down the road. I could help you run it. It’ll be perfect.”

“What about my grandparents?”

“I’ll buy them a villa too. Just as long as it’s not right next to ours. At least down the road or something. Don’t want ’em to hear you screaming my name all the time.” I smirk, waggling my eyebrows up and down. She doesn’t take the bait. She remains serious.

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