Page 115 of Crazy In Love
“Why would it be a bad idea?”
“Are you serious?” He shook his head. “Look at my fucking track record.”
As far as I knew, he hadn’t had a serious relationship in many years.
“What track record? I mean, no offense, but look at mine. I’ve dated plenty, yet nothing has worked out. That doesn’t mean I stop trying.”
He blew out a breath. “I’m not talking about failed relationships. It’s deeper than that. Look at the people in my life. My mother died giving birth to me. My fucking father clearly resented me and drank himself to death. My adopted mother, who stepped up to raise me, grieves the loss of her sister every fucking year. Year after year we relive it. And I caused that pain. I’m not the guy you hitch your cart to, Emilia. But I want to be with you, just me and you, until you find someone who can give you what you want.”
My jaw hung open, because this man knew how to shock the hell out of me. I slapped his hand away when he attempted to close my mouth. “Let me process this, Bridger. The fact that you’re blaming yourself for a medical emergency during childbirth, or for your father being an addict and losing his life, is not rational. Nor is blaming yourself for Ellie’s pain. You saved her. And what about your father, Keaton, and your siblings and your cousins and your niece and nephew. They aren’t suffering from having you in their lives.” I threw my hands in the air.
“Right. I can’t stop them from having a relationship with me, and I just have to hope like hell that I don’t somehow manage to destroy their lives. But bringing someone new into the picture, someone who has expectations and plans for her life? I’ll fuck it up, Emilia. It’s what I do.”
“So you’re deciding what I want for my life without asking me?” I hissed.
“I know what you want. I know what you deserve.”
“And what’s that?”
“Everything.” He laid his head on my lap, and it was such a vulnerable move that my heart nearly shattered.
Because Bridger Chadwick had found his way into my heart.
And even though I knew he would break it—I still wanted him.
thirty-one
. . .
Bridger
Her fingers movedthrough my hair as my head rested on her lap.
“I’m not having sex with you, Bridger,” she whispered.
I looked up. “But you’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay.” The corners of her lips turned up, and her smile reached her eyes this time. “And we can finish this conversation tomorrow, when you’re sober.”
“It’ll be the same, Emilia. I don’t know what I have to offer, but it’s more than what we originally agreed on.”
She narrowed her gaze. “So you enjoyed having sex with me in Paris and now you want to do it in Rosewood River?” She rolled her eyes.
“No.” I looked up at her, wanting her to see that I was being genuine. “I mean, yes, I’d like to have sex with you in Rosewood River. But that’s not what this is about.”
“What is this about?”
“I like you, Emilia. I like you a lot.” I exhaled sharply. “And I don’t like most people. But I’m not a relationship guy, so I’m most likely going to fuck it up. But I’d like to try. Even if it’s justtemporary. I’d like to—” I couldn’t believe I was actually saying this aloud. “Date you.”
“You want to date me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, no one knows how things will work out anytime they date, because they can’t see the future. So why do you have to make it so complicated?” She shrugged.
“Because I know my strengths, and relationships are not one of them. So I’ve been trying really fucking hard to shake this off, because I know this will end poorly.”
“This is quite possibly the worst ‘I want to date you’ speech.” She chuckled. “So why even go there?”
