Page 135 of Like You Want It
I clench my jaw. Even though he’s telling me something I like hearing – that he hasn’t been with anyone else – the last thing I want to think about is him actuallybeingwith someone else. “Okay.”
His shoulders drop, though his eyes reflect a bit of confusion. “Really?”
“You’ve never proven yourself to be a liar before. I won’t not believe you until you prove to me that you don’t deserve the benefit of my trust.”
He gives me a small, thankful smile. “That’s… I’m just surprised is all.”
“Keep in mind,” I add, “that trusting you, and trusting you with my heart are two completely different things. I can believe you’ll tell the truth, but not believe that you’ll love me like I deserve. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He looks down at his hands and nods, his thumbs rubbing together. “I can understand that.” He pauses, seems to think something over, then he looks back up at me. “But can I make a case for your heart?”
I take a surprised breath.
Let it out slowly.
Try not to get my hopes up.
Because I’ve been let down before.
“Will you let me try to convince you that you should trust me with your heart, too?”
I stay silent. Because anything I could possibly try to come up with as a response feels useless.
“You’ve been driving me crazy since the day I met you, and I didn’t understand why until recently.”
“I drive a lot of people crazy.”
He smiles. “I know. And I love it about you.”
A wave of warmth spreads through my chest, turning something over inside of me.
“When you and I first met, that morning when I showed up at your door, angry and upset and tired. I didn’t know it at the time, but I wasn’t angry and upset and tired because of you.”
I shift where I sit, unsure where he’s going, but knowing that I want to hear every word out of his mouth.
“I was living in a world where I hated everything about myself. But I didn’t even know it. I didn’t realize I’d built up all of this anger and frustration and… disappointment. And it took some time for me to focus on that, forgive myself for that, before I’d ever be able to believe that anyone could feel the opposite.”
And that’s when I realize what’s different about Fin now as opposed to before. It isn’t just the smile, though that plays a part.
When we first met, there was anger. The anger he’s talking about. An inability to trust. A wariness and constant dismissal of everyone and everything that didn’t fit into what he knew to be true.
And now? I don’t see anger. Not a speck of it. His trust and vulnerability are visible in his eyes. He’s offering his heart to me on a silver platter. He’s here because he knows what he wants, and if I’m guessing correctly, what he wants is me.
He opens up, then. Pours out his secrets, his soul, his struggles. He talks to me about Ashley, about Noah, about Susie. About the fake miscarriage. The pain he experienced. The loss he struggled with, and how he still wonders if he has a right to even mourn.
At some point, he takes my hand in his, strokes his fingers against mine. We sit together for a long time and talk about the conversations he’s been having in therapy.
And not once does he allow the pain and loss and fear that he struggles with transfer into anger and frustration and an inability to communicate how he feels.
“It’s been a rough road trying to sort through the pieces of a life that felt good and solid and then shattered into shards so small you don’t even know what it used to look like.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, squeezing his hand in mine. “I can’t imagine…”
They’re the same words I said to him in his house. When I went to him for closure and understanding.
But instead of rebuking me, putting me in my place, telling me my sympathy isn’t enough, he pulls me closer.
“Thank you for caring.”
