Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
He nods. “I . . .” He licks his bottom lip. “I know.” He wrings his hands nervously on his lap. “The thing is . . . and there is no easy way to say this, but . . . I’m fucked up.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“How so?”
He continues to twist his hands together on his lap . . .
“Hen?”
“Well, I always thought I was like this because I hadn’t found the right woman and I’m happy on my own. It’s never bothered me.”
Where is this going?
“Right . . .”
“But then I met you, and I wanted more, but . . .” His voice trails off.
“But what?”
“But I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Commit to a relationship.”
I frown. “But you committed to a friends-with-benefits situation with no problem.”
“I did.” He takes my hand in his. “Because it killed two birds with one stone.”
“What birds?”
“I got to spend time with you without weirding out.”
“Weirding out?” I repeat.
He shrugs, embarrassed. “I’m totally fucking weird. Don’t worry, I am well aware.”
I fight to hide my smile. You got that right.
“What does your psychologist say about this?”
“Aaron thinks that my mind is trying to protect me, so it blocks my emotions.”
I frown, not understanding. “Why?”
“I don’t understand it myself.”
“So you don’t have any emotions?”
“No, I do.” He shrugs. “With you, I do.”
“And what are those emotions?” I ask.
He frowns as if perplexed. “Love is a strong word.”
“It is.”
“So . . .” He pauses as if choosing his words very carefully. “You say you loved me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What does that feel like?”
“What?”
“If you love someone, what does it feel like?” He continues. “I mean, when do you get that light bulb I’m-in-love moment?”
I smile at his immaturity on this subject. “It’s not one light bulb moment. It’s a million little things.”
His eyes hold mine as he listens.
“It’s looking forward to seeing someone. It’s thinking about them all day. It’s missing them when they go home, even though you’ve just seen them all night. It’s laughing and conversations and sexual attraction, and most of all it’s a sense of belonging to that person.”
“Belonging to that person?”
“Like you don’t want to sleep with anyone else, you only want one person, and nobody else will do. The thought of giving your body to someone else is sickening.”
He nods as if finally understanding.
I wait for him to elaborate on the subject, but he remains silent.
“Well?” I ask. “Any of that sound familiar?”
He swallows the lump in his throat as if bracing himself for the worst thing possible. “Maybe . . . I do . . . somehow—I mean, I don’t know, but I think I . . . love you.” He stares at the ground, unable to make eye contact.
Empathy fills me at his botched-up declaration of love.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I whisper.
“No, I think it’s a . . . good thing.” He rolls his lips. “It’s just brought up a lot of baggage for me.”
“What kind of baggage?”
He hesitates before answering. “I struggle with intimacy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
But he does know.
“What does Aaron say the reason is?”
He stares at me as if processing the question. “That I won’t rely on anyone as a form of protection.”
“Protection from what?”
“If you leave me.”
Oh . . .
My heart . . .
“Hen,” I whisper softly.
“But I don’t think that’s true. I mean . . . big deal. My mother died. A million people’s mothers die every day, and they don’t walk around fucked up like this.”
“Henley, on our first date you told me that your mother dying was a catastrophic event in your life.” I squeeze his hand in mine. “Don’t play it down. Grief affects everyone differently. You were at a very vulnerable age when she died.”
His eyes fill with tears as he stares at a spot on the carpet, unable to bring himself to look at me.
He is fucked up.
“So . . .” I frown as I try to work out where we go from here. “What do you want to happen now?”
“I want to be with you,” he replies without hesitation. “In a . . .” He swallows again.
I cut him off. “Relationship?”
He nods. “I want to try.”
Silence . . .
Still not a commitment . . . but maybe a promise.
I know I shouldn’t, but I see him, the beautiful man I fell for, lost as he tries to navigate the world. Henley is a good man, deep down. I’ve always known that. He doesn’t want to live like this. He’s had no other option.
I cup his face in my hand. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You be honest with me from here on in.”
His eyes search mine.
“I need to know what’s going on in your head, or we won’t make it, Hen.”
A trace of a smile crosses his face as he takes my hand in his.
I smile, too, and in that moment, I know it’s going to be okay between us.