Page 102 of The Close-Up
I know he doesn’t buy it. But I’m not ready to say more.
“Naomi.”
His soft tone compels me to turn around from where I stand at his kitchen counter, squinting at my laptop.
The concern in his eyes is an arrow to my heart. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I force a cheeriness to my tone that isn’t normally there.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine when you’re not.” He says it softly before gently grabbing my hand in his.
I pull my hand away. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
I suspect the tight smile I’m displaying isn’t convincing, judging by his heavy sigh.
“I don’t know why you’re not being honest with me,” he says. “We’ve always been honest with each other. What changed?”
“Maybe we should cool things off a bit.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, angry with how meek I sound when I say it. I should at least have confidence when I propose this.
Simon’s eyebrows smash together, like he couldn’t be more confused at what I’ve said. “Why?”
It’s a fruitless search for the right words. Probably because there are none. So instead I stammer until he speaks.
“Naomi, I thought things were going really well between us. I thought we had a great time with your family.”
I tug at my hair and try not to groan. “We are. It’s just...well, you said we do this on our own terms, right? At our own pace, and it’s just moving a bit fast for me.”
“Okay...” Simon’s eyes search my face, like he can’t quite make sense of what I’m saying.
“Look, I think... I can’t have things between us get serious. Ever.”
Something changes in his gaze. “What is going on? Did something trigger you or—”
I hold up a hand, exasperated. “Could you just for once not talk to me like you’re trying to coach me through a therapy session?”
When he flinches at my irritated tone, I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet.
“I’m sorry. I just...can you just tell me your raw feelings and not be therapist Simon right now?”
He nods.
I take a breath. “Do you sometimes think that we could be something...more? Like, more serious than what we are now?”
His expression falls the slightest bit and it makes my chest feel like it’s going to cave in on itself. He knows. He knows exactly what I’m about to say.
“The truth? Yeah. I do think that. I like you, Naomi. I like spending time with you. I like having sex with you. I like waking up next to you. I like coming home to my apartment with you. There’s no one I’d rather spend time with than you. And I want so much more than that with you someday. How’s that for raw and serious?”
He says it all without flinching, with a confidence I’ve never heard before. It’s like he’s calling my bluff, daring me to say more.
“That’s just it. I can’t... I can’t do that. I can’t give you all that.”
“Why not? What happened?”
And then I tell him everything, how I walked in on Auntie Gigi crying in the bathroom, arguing with my uncle about their impending divorce, how she told me they grew apart over the years, how there’s so much animosity and resentment between them, they can’t speak without arguing.
“Next to my parents, they were one of the most solid married couples I knew. They were so in love for so long. And now they’re done. And I just... I don’t want to end up like that. Like them. Resentful and hateful of each other.”
