Page 92 of If My Wishes Came True
He lets out a lengthy exhale, reads the messages, then silences his cell. After pocketing it again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I, um—I have to go back to Denver. I’m leavingfirst thing tomorrow morning.”
My heart sinks. “Oh.”
“But don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for the art show.”
“The art show’s in two weeks,” I say, stunned. “You’ll be gone that long?”
“Most likely,” he says, frowning. “Fuck. I have so much on my plate at work already. I don’t know how I’ll get anything done, now that I have to travel again.”
My gut clenches.
“What about those new hires your dad was looking to make? Any progress there?” I ask, even though I’m sure I already know the answer.
He frowns, looking defeated. “Not yet.”
My sadness ebbs, replaced by a wave of frustration. “Let me ask youthis, Charlie—how long has your dad been telling you he’s planning to hire additional staff?”
My boyfriend’s gaze shifts to his lap. “I don’t know.” After several seconds, he blows out a resigned breath. “A while.”
“And have you confronted him about what’s taking so long?”
He clenches his jaw. “Jenna, you have to keep in mind—he’s not only my dad. He’s my boss. That would be unprofessional.”
My eyes widen. “It isn’t unprofessional, Charlie. It’s called advocating for yourself. Your dad walks all over you, but you’d rather be quietly miserable than speak up and disappoint him. Is that how you want to live your life?”
His face reddens as he looks at me, stunned. “Jenna, I don’t want to argue with you.”
I cross my arms. “Of course you don’t. Because you’re soafraid of disappointing people that you were willing to marry the wrong person?—”
“That’s not fair.” He pinches the bridge of his nose again, just like he does every time he gets a text from his father. An attempt to stifle his emotions, I’m guessing.
“No,you’rethe one who isn’t being fair, Charlie. You’re not giving yourself a fighting chance at happiness, because you’re so concerned about pleasing others. Well, I know what it’s like to have a father who doesn’t support your dreams. But I stopped caring about his approval a long time ago. Wanna know why? Because approval isn’t love.” I take a deep breath. “You can’t love someone if you refuse to see them for who they are.”
Charlie purses his lips. “We’ve talked about this before. I’m his only son—it’s complicated.”
“But your dad isn’t the only person you’re afraid of disappointing. He’s at the top of the list, sure—but where does the list end? I mean, your first girlfriend wasn’t satisfied in bed, so you read every sex guide on the internet to make sure you never disappointed a woman again?” I bite my lip. “And yes, I’m being a total hypocrite, because I enjoy your skillstremendously. But why put that pressure on yourself, Charlie?”
He can’t look me in the eye. All I hear is his shallow breath as I continue.
“From the moment we met, I’ve been wondering if you’re too good to be true. Now I know why…it’s because you’re a people-pleaser. Your need to meet other people’s expectations is dictating your life,” I tell him. “If all you’re worried about is making other people happy, how will you ever figure out whatyoureally want? Or how you really feel? You’re so damn agreeable—I mean, you just told the woman you were about to marryfour months agothat you’re thrilled she has a new boyfriend. Is that even true?”
“Of course it’s true! Why would you think otherwise?”
“Because you always say exactly what I want to hear?—”
“And that’s a bad thing?” he asks, dragging a palm down his face. “Jesus, Jenna! I don’t know what you want from me.”
I throw my hands up. “I want you to be yourself! I don’t need perfection from you—I need you to be real. I’m working hard in therapy so I can live a life that’s true to who I am, and I won’t go backward. If I’m with a man who settles because he’s afraid to be himself, then I’m settling, too. Don’t keep putting everyone’s needs ahead of your own, Charlie. Choose yourself first.Thenchoose me. It’s the only way we’ll be happy together.”
He grips the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands and rests his forehead between them. “God, I hate this.”
I put my palm on his knee. “I know you do…but I’m not sorry for confronting you. Conflict happens in healthy relationships. If we’re going to get through this, to our happy ending, then you have to be willing to handle it.”
After a beat, he finally looks at me again.
“Okay,” he says, nodding, a wistful look in his eyes. Then he takes my hand and kisses it, his beautiful long lashes fluttering closed.
Every time he touches me, it’s all I can do not to close the gap between us. Taking space is as torturous for me as it is for him. I hope he knows how badly I want him to rise to this challenge.To fight for our happily-ever-after. I have no doubt he’s capable. I’m just terrified thathedoesn’t believe in himself enough to try.
