Page 19 of His Gift
He feeds me a couple more bites and then presents me with the coffee. Yes. I need the caffeine boost.
"You said you had relationships before…"
"Never said that. I said I fucked women before."
"Okay. How did you meet them?"
"Online. Dating apps. I looked for women who were clearly in for scratching an itch. Not that often either. I'm good at being by myself."
"You didn't want a relationship?"
"I clearly did, sweet girl, or we wouldn't be here. I just knew that when I found the right person, it would be clear from the first moment I saw her. You."
If the situation weren't so utterly absurd, I'd let myself swoon a little.
"And you don't have friends."
"No. I have a couple of employees I respect and tolerate working with in close quarters. And I had my brothers. Again, I'm very good at being alone."
"It must have been heartbreaking losing them all at once. I'm sorry."
"I did all I could to save them. I have the scars to prove it. Of course it was a damn waste of good people, but…" His voice trails off, as if he doesn't know what to add.
"You have the scars to prove you tried with me. How's your arm? I'm sorry I went nuts."
"My arm is fine. I doubt it will leave a scar. And it's different with you."
"I still don't understand why, Conrad. What do you need me for? You're rich, you get pussy when you want it, and you're happy on your own. I've given you nothing else than problems."
Silence stretches between us. When I try to turn and look at him, he tightens his arm around my waist. I could fight him, but I'm not one hundred percent sure I want to check what's going on with him. Is he finally realizing his quest is without purpose?
"When I met you, I felt something. I hadn't felt a thing since I can remember. I mean, fear, yes, and anger, but never in a way that would affect me. When I saw you, I just felt. A myriad of different things. And it keeps happening."
fifteen
Conrad
Ican hardly breathe. I like everything about my gift, but God, she's a slob. Her apartment is minuscule and so packed with a nonsensical mess that I feel like the walls are closing in on me.
Being stranded on her couch does me no favor either. At least when she's in my arms, I can ignore the disorder.
But after my… confession, or whatever it was, she asked me to take her for a walk, and we spent the rest of the day in silence, roaming around Central Park. I've tried to understand what was going on in her head, but while her outbursts and panic attacks are easy to read, the multitude of expressions on her face rarely make sense to me. I've not cared enough for someone before to make the effort, and now I have no comparison.
I asked her to live at my apartment, but she refused. I managed to convince her to come and check it out because I really needed to eat something. She said it was not where she wanted to live and that was all the compliance I could coax from her. And when it was time to sleep, she said she didn't want to share her bed with me.
I had the perfect plan. I know that if I could keep her in my house, she'd come to recognize we're made for each other. I'd be able to show her how good I could be for her. I can't do any of that now. I don't want to witness another one of her meltdowns. I never cared for people's distress unless it was inconveniencing me, but I feel hers deep in my gut.
"Conrad?" Her voice is so faint that I wouldn't have heard it if I were sleeping.
"Yes."
"I can't sleep."
"Same." I have a simple solution for her, but I've already asked, and she has refused me. I'm not asking again. I just wait quietly while Harper fights whatever battle she's fighting in that brain of hers.
"Maybe you'd be more comfortable in bed."
"That's for sure." Annoyance trickles into my voice. Stranding me on a couch that's half my size was plain cruel.
