Page 137 of Crazy In Love
“What is your track record, exactly?”
“Shall we start with my biological parents?” I gaped at her, as if she should know this already.
“You can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened to your mother and father. You were a newborn baby! That’s not rational.”
I groaned. “I don’t think most people enter the world taking out their entire family. And then you and Dad adopt me, even knowing that I’m the reason for your own heartache. I did that to you. Do you not get it?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You are the only reason that I survived that time in my life. Honey, I’ve told you that. You have to believe me. My sister would have given her life ten times over for you. She had a high-risk pregnancy andchose to move forward. She knew the risks. And your father, bless him, because my heart still aches when I think of him. But he was an addict, and that was his choice. And he’s the one who should’ve felt badly for leaving you, not vice versa. You were a baby. He was a grown man. And yes, he was grieving, but people grieve and they keep on living. You are my shining star, Bridger Chadwick. The light after the dark.”
I sighed. I fucking hated talking about this shit. But I knew I had to deal with it if I wanted to make things right with Emilia. I had to tell her the truth. And get her back, because I wasn’t going to fucking lose this woman!
Mom continued with an arched brow, “Your leaving her hurt her even more. So this plan is very flawed, son.”
I blew out a labored breath, feeling the weight of what my actions had caused. “I really fucked up.”
“No relationship is perfect. We all make mistakes. But you own up to it and you make it right. She knows who you are, and she told you that she loves you. I think that’s all that matters.” She took a sip of her tea. “Emilia doesn’t need a man who can tell her that he loves her. She needs a man who can figure out why he can’t tell her the way he feels. She needs a man who can ask her what she wants and then find their own version of the fairy tale together. She needs a man who’s willing to share his fears and be honest with her. But I can promise you one thing, Bridger.”
“What?” I asked, my head pounding with the onset of a migraine now.
“Telling someone that you are terrified of how much you love them is not going to run them off. But not saying anything is the same thing as saying that you don’t care. So when you find someone that’s worth the risk—you take it. Or you’ll spend your entire life regretting it.”
Emilia Taylor was definitely worth the risk.
Mom pulled out her phone and sent a text message to someone, then stared down at her screen when it beeped shortly after with a response.
“My therapist… your ex-therapist, Debbie, will see you tomorrow morning at nine a.m.”
“Therapy?” I groaned, because she’d been pushing that on me for years. I saw Debbie in high school at my mother’s insistence, but after college, I didn’t feel the need to go back.
“You can’t fix this until you figure out why you did what you did.”
“I fucking hate therapy,” I grouched.
But I knew in my gut that I had to deal with this.
Because my fear had just cost me the woman I loved.
It was time to figure my shit out.
And that’s exactly what I intended to do.
thirty-eight
. . .
Emilia
The last threeweeks had been a roller coaster of emotions. I came off quite possibly the worst Valentine’s Day of all time and then spent two days in bed crying and grieving someone who’d never really been mine. But then I got to work on my design proposal for Sylvia Carson to keep myself busy.
When life gives you a pile of shit, you can either get the pooper scooper out, or you can give up.
A few days after I’d submitted my proposal, Sylvia called to let me know that the team loved my design ideas and my presentation. They wanted to move forward with me as the designer for the project. So, Henley and I had jumped on a plane to Los Angeles to meet with them at their corporate offices. They all wanted to meet me in person and sign the contract. Henley insisted on tagging along so she could review the contract for me.
And I would now be designing vacation homes for a large real estate investment company. I’d still prefer to design individual homes, but this was a stepping stone that worked for me. One that felt right.
The pay was far more than I would have imagined.
But most importantly, I’d be doing what I loved in the town I loved.
