Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“We go back to Kismet Beach in the morning.”
I can barely hear his voice over the wind.
“Yeah,” I say.
“What happens then?”
A lump settles in my throat. The question I feared—the topic that I’ve worried about off and on all day—is now in the open.
As much as the thought of hearing it made me want to puke … I also wanted to hear it. It’s confusing. The only way this conversation didn’t scare the bejesus out of me was being able to partially control when it happened. I knew if I let Jess pick what we do tonight, he’d pick this. And I’ve spent all day trying, and failing, to prepare my response.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, turning it around on him.
His eyes shine. “You know what I want to do.”
I hum.
He reaches across the table and takes my hands in his.
My chest wobbles as I prepare to be the most vulnerable that I’ve ever been with another person.
Why?
Because he deserves it.
Because I think I love him.
“When I’m with you, life makes sense,” I say simply. “When I wake up in the morning, I don’t feel so … small.”
He wants to say something. He bites the inside of his cheek, and I know him well enough now to know that means he’s holding back.
“Until recently, my life felt like an island floating around in the middle of the world. Other people lived on continents and in island chains, but I was on this rock all by myself. And it was fine,” I add as his brow furrows. “It was just the way it was. But then you come along and muscle your way in, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn’t alone.”
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. No matter how embarrassing or sad or terribly wrong this conversation went, I wouldn’t cry.
So I blink back tears as they start to form in the corners of my eyes.
He rubs my knuckles with his thumbs, waiting on me to continue.
“Jess, you won me over before we got here,” I say, my voice cracking. “And it scares the crap out of me to say this to you, but I know we have to have this conversation, so I’m trying to just be honest and lay it all out there.”
“Why does it scare you? I don’t understand.”
“Because …” I blow out a breath. “What are your life’s dreams? What do you hope for?”
“Happiness.”
“More specifically.”
I know his answer—he wants a family. Of course, he does. But I need him to say it, to admit it to me, so I can show him why I’m not sure what I want when we go home.
Or, rather, I know what I want and what I can’t have.
He lets go of my hand and sighs. He sits back in his seat, watching me. “Pretty sure happiness is a full sentence.”
“You’re not getting out of it that easy.”
“What do you want me to say? Do you want to go back to the kid thing? Because that’s the only argument you’ve ever proposed about why we could never work that made any sense at all.”
I still.
My heart pounds, and blood pressure soars. Panic rises through the bile at the base of my throat.
All I want to do is run.
But I don’t.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ve always thought that having kids was in my future. I saw myself doing the same things I did with my dad with my son or daughter. Is that what you want to hear?”
No.
He leans forward, his fingers locked around the base of his wineglass. “Why do you not want kids?”
“I don’t like them.” I give him my canned answer, but it’s the truth. It’s been the truth for as long as I can remember. “I’ve built my whole life around not wanting children, and it’s a relief every day when I wake up without a screaming kid. I’m genuinely happy with my life choice. I realize it’s not the popular one, but it’s how I feel.”
“All right.” He holds my gaze. “Now what’s the real answer.”
I push my glass into the center of the table. “I gave you my answer.”
“I’m not going to try to change your mind, Pip. I just want to understand you.”
Why do you have to be so fucking perfect?
Why do you absolutely terrify me?
I stand, needing to move so I can think. Sitting in one place and looking at him won’t help me recall years of trauma.
My heartbeat races, amping up another notch. My palms sweat, and I blame it on the humidity, even though I know that’s untrue.
I take a deep breath and blow it into the wind.
This is going to hurt. It’s going to be salt into a wound, and it might very well be the moment that I see the disappointment in Jess’s eyes. It’ll be the moment he realizes I’m not the person he wants forever.