Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I knew firsthand how feelings could freak someone out, and he’d hinted at an attachment. That it hurt to borrow a page from my life or whatever. He’d felt the need to leave because he’d crash once the illusion burst.
“Can I share my biggest fear now?” he asked.
I eyed him wearily.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to face me more. “Other than losing what I’m currently trying to create, I’m…” He trailed off and scratched his forehead, seemingly changing his mind. “Maybe it’s not even a fear. I’m more resigned.”
“About what?”
“Never catching up,” he admitted. “Dating and all that shit—it doesn’t exist for me, because it can’t.”
I felt myself go cold at the same time as my heart caught on fire in the worst way. It fucking hurt. It pounded, as if screaming for help, and a cloud of anxiousness billowed up in my chest.
“Alvin will always need me.” He dropped his stare to his food. “The day I manage to get him to move, it has to be a place I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life in. And…” He swallowed. “While I’d never trade being his dad for anything, it’s painful to accept that my inability to be flexible will make sure I’ll always be alone. Most of my money will continue going to his care, and I highly doubt I’ll be able to get to where I once was, work-wise. Having my own company, feeling somewhat secure with my finances, having a buffer. I’ll always worry.”
But I can be there.
Fuck.
“What happens to him when I die?” he asked. “What happens when my mother dies? What happens if, in a year or two, there’re layoffs and I lose my job?”
A low, rushing sound invaded my senses, and a new fire ignited. He was never going to pursue anything with me, because he had bigger problems, and he didn’t want to burden anyone with them. More than that, he didn’t believe the person who might wanna share all this with him existed.
I knew the person existed, though. He was sitting right fucking here, and it was almost as if he’d been waiting for Ben to give him a new purpose in life.
I understood Ben and Alvin were a package deal. Of-fucking-course they were. Ben’s ma, too.
My stomach knotted with nerves and discomfort as a quick flash of an image shot its way into my brain. I saw Alvin in one room, Elsie in the one with the half-bath, Ben and me right in here. And despite the immediate urge to run from such a commitment, I forced the scenario into the forefront of my mind. I let the image grow and unfurl. I saw way more laundry in the bathroom. I saw home-cooking and a reason for having a kitchen table. I saw my family merging with another. I saw Ben and me sharing every struggle…
For every second that ticked by, each glimpse crystallized further and became part of my new dream.
I saw a future that scared the shit out of me with how much I wanted it.
My brain started spinning, and I took the leap the second I realized I was conjuring strategies to win him over. Because this was fucking happening. I understood he was too afraid to even hope, but I wasn’t. I was gonna make him see that we belonged together.
Ben had fought for his survival for years. He’d had just enough energy to get through the present. And now he was on his way. Now he could see a tomorrow too. Then…? Goddammit, I was gonna give everything for the chance to share a future with him.
Holy fuck.
So, yeah. I should get my ducks in a row.
“I don’t think you’ll be alone,” I said.
He knitted his brows together in confusion and reached for his coffee. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“Sh-yeah,” I chuckled.
Elation buzzed within me all of a sudden, because I was so fucking determined. I was sure the nerves and the fears would cause me to waver from time to time until the day he joined my fight, but we’d get there.
One of the obstacles was what he’d told me at Costco a few weeks ago. In order to get him to promote me from fuckable—or however he’d label me with his statement of being “confident to deliver on a quick fuck”—to…someone he wanted to shack up with and hopefully fall madly in love with, I was going to need to up my game.
I had to start behaving more honestly in terms of openness, flirting, and interest in knowing everything about him. Meeting his ma and son tomorrow would help. I’d dig all the way to China if I had to.
Which, come to think about it, I’d essentially done from the start. I’d snooped around to find his damn wallet in order to get to a place I could trust him more, so I could help him more. I’d wanted to go the extra mile for him way earlier and to a higher degree than I’d ever wanted before, and it was sure as fuck not only tied to wanting to be helpful.