Page 119 of The Situation
I look at her and shake my head.
“What? I’m not a trained counselor. You want my services? We’re doing things my way.”
“Okay,” I say, resolved to get to the bottom of this. “I feel fine about getting serious with him. I see myself with him for the rest of my life. I want his babies. I want his stories after work. I’ll even take his dirty laundry.”
Especially blueberry sheets.
Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as I remember that night in his bed.
“But I don’t want to get married. Not yet,” I say. “Maybe not ever. And he wants it right now, and I can’t give it to him. I feel …cursed.” I nearly spit the word out. “I don’t want to curse us, you know?”
“Did you tell him this?”
“I tried to. We both got a little hotheaded, and that never bodes well for communication.”
“No, it does not.”
“I don’t know what to do, Jamie.”
She sits back in her chair. “I might not have a degree in counseling, but I do have a cosmetology degree, and it’s basically the same thing—only I can do hair and nails.”
I laugh.God, that’s so true.
“Let’s break this down,” she says. “He wants to marry you. He doesn’t want to date, right? He wants marriage.”
“He wants me to be his wife.”
She considers this. “That’s really sweet, actually. But I know where you’re coming from, and your concerns are valid. I’m going to deduce from this that buried down deep inside that Adonis body—which I know he has because I checked him out on Social—he’s afraid of losing you. He wants you, or maybe the white picket fence thing, so much that each piece of the puzzle feels like he’s building a foundation. So, without marriage, he can’t get the whole picture.”
“But things do crumble.”
“Not when they’re built right.”
Silence fills my body as things start to make sense.
“Holy shit, Jamie. You might be right.”
“Funny that you doubt me at all,” she says, making a face. “Now, the other part of this is probably the fact that he’s a billionaire stud who has never been toldnoa day in his life.”
I snort.
“So your boy doesn’t know how to compromise. He’s acting like a brat. You did the right thing putting your foot down.”
I hum, lifting my chin.
“But,” she says, pointing a perfectly manicured nail my way, “you have to compromise, too. If you want this to work, that is.”
“How? Marriage is my triggering event. I. Don’t. Want. To. Get. Married.”
“But you are fine with committing to him?”
I nod.
“Then figure out a way to do that.”
“I can’t. I can’t give him what he wants.”
“Bet you can.” She winks. “You might have to think a minute, but you’ll find a solution.”
