Page 121 of Crazy In Love
“Oh…” I snort and enjoy the feel of it in my throat. “Not quite where I expected you to take this story. You said she was the love of your life.”
“And she was. But she made sure I would never enjoy a moment of peace. If I said I preferrednotto eat spaghetti for dinner, that woman made it more often. If I said I wanted petunias in the garden, she planted daisies.”
“Doesn’t sound like she liked you very much.”
He chuckles. “Oh, she did. But her father had gone to war, too. She used to tell me her home felt like a museum. It was cold and quiet. It held no love. Just… things. And people.” He brings us toward my apartment, rounding a corner and slowing for a set of lights. “She never saw her parents fight. Hell, she couldn’t even be sure she’d heard themspeakto one another. So, by the time we met, she intended to irritate me to death. It never occurred to me, not until now as you tell me your story, that maybe she intended to break us before we started. Send me away early, which she might’ve considered preferable to losing me later.”
She was scared.
It’s easier to ruin things when they’re new. When the stakes are lower and the pain, less crippling.
“This is why I enjoy meeting new people,” he murmurs. “Because understanding them helps me understand myself, too.”
“Welp…” I rest my chin on my chest. “You’re welcome.”
He chortles. “Of course, we eventually reached a point where it no longer felt like she was pushing me away. In fact, she threatened bodily harm to anyone who dared stare at me too long.”
“Possessive,” I smirk. “That’s when you know you’ve roped her in. She was sticking, and you were, too—whether you liked it or not.”
“Right. But still, she planted the flowers I never asked for and cooked meals I told her I didn’t much fancy.”
“If you were smarter, you would’ve told her you didn’t like the things you did. Trick her.”
“If you were less focused on your heartache, you’d realize I loved spaghetti all along,” he counters smugly. I bring my eyes up and catch his, dancing in the mirror. “I made it my business to know her better than I knew myself. Though, naturally, I wasn’t infallible. Twelve years ago, as we were approaching our fiftieth anniversary, my sweet Maggie decided we should buy a new bedroom suite. I had no clue why, since the one we had was fine. You can’t buy quality furniture like we could before, and I had no desire to trade solid oak for whatever cheap crap was at the shops. But that woman usually got whatever she wanted, and a few weeks after our initial conversation—where I said no, we didnotneed a new bed—I arrived home from work and walked into our bedroom to find a whole new look. Instead of dark brown, our new furniture was white. Instead of the mattress my body was used to, I was forced into this monstrosity I hated. Ohhh,” he growls under his breath. “When I tell you I was cranky…”
My cheeks ache from my smile, which is a thousand times better than the ache I feel in my heart. “I think she and I would’ve gotten along.”
He rolls his eyes. “No doubt. The point of my story is that I stubbed my toe on that damn bed the very next morning. And then I stubbed my toe again the next day. And the day after that. Until eventually?—”
“You learned where the new bed was and stopped running into it?”
He snorts. “No. My toe broke, and now I have a calcified lump that bothers me every single day. But Maggie…” He exhales a sad sigh. “Well, she died. Almost a year to the day after that bed was delivered, she was diagnosed with the kind of cancer that kills. And just seven weeks later, she was gone.”
“Jesus!” I shove up straight. “This isn’t a happy story! You’re breaking my heart.”
He pulls onto my street and slows, counting numbers on the side of each building. Finding mine, he brings the cab to a stop and slides the gear into park, until finally, he twists in his seat and meets my eyes for the first time without a mirror between us. “For eleven years, I’ve lived without the love of my life. But I kept the bed. Because even though I stub my toe, and even though that calcified lump continues to grow and ache?—”
“You kept it because you love Maggie.”
His eyes glisten, but he draws his lips into a close-mouth smile. “If I got rid of the bed, just because I kept stubbing my toe, I wouldn’t wake up to the little love note she scratched into our brand-new wood on that first day.”
Surprised, I massage my aching heart. “She scratched it?”
“She knew I’d be cranky, and she figured I might even insist we return it all and get our money back. She knew me, just as I knew her. So she scratched our names into the wood and made damn sure I’d never see that refund. Maybe you stub your toe sometimes in these places where you think you don’t belong, but if the cruel passage of time has taught me anything, it’s to not focus on the mild inconveniences. Search for the love note, missy. Someday, you might find yours.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Can I walk you to your door? I’m dying to know if he’s waiting for you.”
“God.” I wipe fresh tears from my eyes. Digging a hand into my purse, I take out enough money for the ride and a little extra for the story. “Idreadgetting out of this cab because if he’s not there, I might crawl into the corner of my bathroom and sob a little bit.”
“Maybe he’s here. Or maybe he’s sitting in the corner ofhisbathroom right now, waiting for you. It’s entirely possible you may be two hearts breaking as one because you’re both in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I wish Maggie was my cab driver tonight.” I show him my smile, if only to soften the blow of my words, then I push my door open and step onto the sidewalk. “I bet she’d have better, more direct, problem-solving advice.”
He follows me out and opens the trunk, and though I slide my purse along my arm and reach forward to get my suitcase, he playfully slaps my hand away and does the work for me. “If you want her advice, I bet I could predict what she’d say.Easily.”
“Youdidhave a habit of knowing her as well as you knew yourself.” I accept my case when he sets it on the road, tugging the handle up while he closes the trunk. Finally, I place my purse on the case and straighten my back.
It’s time to be brave.
“I don’t know your name.”
