Page 120 of Crazy In Love
“But what I want, and what I think should happen, are two different things.” I bring my hand up and trap my pinky nail between my teeth. “Iwantto turn around and run back to the crappy little town I just escaped because I left something kind of important behind.”
His eyes swing to mine in the mirror. “Luggage?”
“My soul. My family. The ones I choose. I left my best friend behind, though technically, she was the one who left me first. I left this little boy behind, who is basically my nephew, but not really. But I love him like I would love my own son if I had one. I left my niece behind. She’s only a month old and was named after me. And I left these two guys behind.”
“Two?” His cheeks warm, his blush stretching from his face to his neck. “Seems we’ve found the root of your confusion.”
“They’re twin brothers,” I snicker. “Identical. One of them married my best friend, and the other…”Owns me.“As naïve as it sounds, there’s a part of me hoping he snuck across the country while I wasn’t watching and is waiting for me at my apartment. Like, that’s his grand gesture of love, ya know?”
“You don’t think he’ll deliver this grand gesture you want so badly?”
“No. Because I was the one who left. I told him we werejust friends, and then I accepted a new job in Rome.”
He hisses, shaking his head gently to the side. “I see. That’s a little messy.”
“Right. BecauseI’mmessy. So, while I’m over here foolishly hoping to be proven wrong, I’m not counting on it. Because even without the friend stuff, and even without Rome hanging over our heads, that’s just not who he is.”
“So, you know whoheis? But you don’t know whoyouare?”
“He’s… quiet,” I sigh. “Humble. He’s caring and brave. He would choose a night in, instead of a nightclub, any day. A meaningful conversation and dinner on his porch, over pretense and restaurants and sharing a dining room with two hundred other people. Hehatescrowds, but his brother has a job that kinda flies in the face of that, so he tolerates them when he must. He hates sharing his family—he especially hated the idea of sharing them with me—but when it mattered, he welcomed me in and made my existence in that townbetter.”
“So, he haspreferences, but he’s willing to step outside them for the people he loves.” He flashes a charming smile and meets my eyes. “It’s entirely possible he’s waiting for you at your apartment.”
I breathe out a soft laugh and try not to let that tiny sliver of hope get too large.The higher I fly, the harder I’ll fall…“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Because your family left you.” He nods. “They didn’t love you the way you deserved, which probably means, in your mind, you’re not worthy of more. You think this guy isn’t willing to step away from his preferences to make you happy. Worse, you think his refusal to do so means he never loved you at all.”
“Breaking my own heart every time I think it.” I hate that my hand shakes. That my stomach turns. I hate that I bounce my knee to work through excess energy, though God knows, I have none to spare. “So that’s what I’m doing; spiraling betweenI want him to be there for meand acknowledging that he probably won’t be. And honestly, I have no one to blame but myself.”
“Because of thejust friendsthing,” he guesses. “And Rome.”
Mmhmm.
“Self-sabotage. You’ve got yourself in a loop, and you don’t know how to get out.”
“That’s me.” I drop my head back again and close my eyes, because my hunger is making me nauseous, and driving in New York traffic, even with Mr. Smooth at the wheel, is pushing me closer to puking. “I’ve beensabotaging myself since inception, I think. Pissing people off and forcing them to leave, all so I can saysee! That’s what they do.I’ve been working a job that literally no one else in the world would hire me for, so if I resign or get fired, I become entirely un-hirable, with a college degree that cost a bunch andnoexperience to show for it.”
“You hurt yourself in the quest for…” He pauses for a long beat. “Sheesh. I don’t even know. Hurt yourself now, so later, the hurt doesn’t catch you by surprise?”
“I’m a mental case,” I groan. “I stub my toe in any town or city, and I declare it abad fit. I described myself as a bad organ transplant, and that town I just escaped, was the body. They don’t want me, and God knows I hate feeling unwelcome, so I run away and hide.”
“But by your own admission, you’ve traveled extensively.”
“Yes.”
“Which means you’ve looked behindallthe curtains, you’ve metallthe people. You’ve explored the world. But stubbing your toesometimesmeans you’ve thrown your hands up and declared that you belong nowhere.”
I’m ridiculous, I know. “Correct.”
“Can I tell you a story?” He turns at the next corner, and when I feel the warmth of his gaze, I open my eyes and find him waiting for me in the mirror. “If you don’t mind?”
“Sure.” I flick my wrist in his direction.Go ahead. “I’d rather hear about your life than obsess over my own. You’d be doing me a favor.”
“I was hoping you would say so.” He slows and turns another corner, before speeding up again. “I met the love of my life when we were just fourteen years old. It was a different time,” he murmurs. “A very long time ago, when such things were not improper. I was born not so long after soldiers returned from the war when men were… Well… They were not always coping. My parents’ marriage withstood the war, and when my father came back, he and my mother made their children and did okay in the shifting economy. Maggie—the woman who would eventually become my wife—and I were born in the same hospital within days of each other, and we lived on the same block our entire childhoods. Her mother and mine met, and as women do, they brought their children together. From that day forward, I was?—”
“In love?”
He laughs, loud and jolly, like Santa himself. “Goodness, no. I was annoyed. That girl dideverythingshe could to irritate me.”
