Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Binx.” Her name bursts from my lips without my permission when I close the door and turn to see her sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by pieces of paper from the notepad I use to make lists for the hardware store. She’s bent over the pad now, writing furiously, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips as she concentrates.
“Yep. It’s me. I’m still here.” She doesn’t so much as glance up from her scribbling as she adds, “You didn’t actually think I would leave, did you?”
The dinosaur jaws locked around my chest loosen, and I draw my first deep breath since I saw her mother standing in front of the cabin.
No, I realize, I didn’t actually think she would leave. Maybe that’s part of the reason I felt like such absolute shit when I thought she had.
“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing there’s so much more that needs to be said, but I’m just so grateful to see her sitting there, looking absolutely unconcerned with the future, that I can’t think straight.
“You should be,” she says, still writing. “That was mortifying. It’s hard enough to have your profession of love dismissed without having your family there to watch it happen. Especially my mom. She practically had kittens when I told her I was staying to talk to you, and that if she wanted me to leave, she would have to physically overpower me and tie me up in the back of her SUV.” She dots a period onto the paper and finally looks up, her eyes pink from crying, but now dry and clear. “I think she thought about it for a second or two, but then she remembered I’m not four years old anymore. She can’t just pick me up and carry me away from things I love, kicking and screaming.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say. “I never did.”
“But you did,” she says calmly, the complete lack of blame in her tone somehow making me feel even worse. “You really, really hurt me, and I think I know why. It’s not because you’re dead set against getting involved with someone so much younger than you are.”
I arch a brow, but don’t speak. Words are still elusive. I’m too lost in the emotions slamming against my chest like ocean waves on a stormy day. Fear, grief, gratitude, guilt, misery—they slam into me over and over again, while high above the shoreline, a single seagull cries out not to lose hope.
But that’s the problem. I don’t have enough hope to make it through all the challenges Binx and I would face as a couple. The world has beaten the hope out of me.
I’m about to tell her as much when she says, “You don’t think you’re good enough for me,” and my next breath gets stuck in my lungs.
I hold it for a long beat, then exhale in a rush, back to not knowing what to say.
She’s right, but she’s also wrong. I’m not good enough, but not because I’m a bad man. I just…
“I’m just so fucking tired, baby,” I say my voice rough.
She frowns. “No, you’re not. You’re the strongest man I know. You run at least five miles a day and could bench press a Volkswagen.”
“I don’t mean that kind of tired.” I move into the kitchen, bracing my hands on the island, facing her across it. “I don’t believe in happy endings anymore. The world isn’t happy and neither are most of the people in it. That doesn’t mean they’re bad or that I’m bad, it just…is what it is. I’ve come to accept that and be mostly okay with it. But learning to be okay with it…” I trail off, my shoulders inching closer to my ears as I drop my gaze to the counter. “I don’t know. I think it killed the part of me that believed I could make love work for the long haul.”
“You love Sprout and your mom,” she says. “And your brothers and your nephews.”
“It’s different.”
“How?” she asks.
I look up, meeting her still calm gaze. At least she’s taking this well. But, of course she is. She’s the strongest person I know—male or female. “They’re family.”
“Which means,” she presses.
“They’re family, they’re…forever,” I say, with a soft huff of laughter. “I couldn’t get rid of them if I tried.”
“You can’t get rid of me, either,” she says, arching a brow. “I’m still here. I’m not going to leave you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not—” I break off, the words feeling like a lie in my mouth.
But I’m not worried that she’s going to leave me.
Am I?
“I’m not going to leave, even if things get hard,” she continues. “Even if you get old, and I’m not quite as old just yet. Even if you grow a giant wart on your shoulder that makes your clothes fit funny and you aren’t as hot as you were before.”