He did not soundwilling to release details when he demanded, “Why?”
“I’m about to painther soul,” I told him. “I need to know what kind of woman she is.”
He remained silentfor a while, thinking. Tension rolled through the room as his mood shifted andchanged. I couldn’t turn around to look at him. I stared at the curls of smokein front of me, adding details in an effort to distract my skipping heart.
I heard him exhalein a long forced rush, like he’d been holding his breath and couldn’t keep itin any longer. “Cold,” he finally said.“Calculating.She never smiled.”
Staring at my shoesI tried to imagine Ezra with a woman that never smiled. A few months ago, itwould have made sense to my uninformed mind. I would have pictured him with awoman just like that. The two of them arm in arm, never smiling, neverlaughing, never talking about anything important.
But now? I couldn’treconcile Ezra without laughter, without deep, late night conversations orsecret smiles. He was the opposite of cold and calculating. Careful maybe.Shrewd for sure. But not distant, not deliberately cruel.
“She didn’t likeDillon,” he added, not as an afterthought, but the crux of his entire point.
My rounded arcbecame a harsh slash. I swiped the paintbrush through my palette andtransformed the pair of eyes I was working on from exotic and mysterious to angry,bitter… tired.
Without looking atEzra, I asked, “How long did you date?”
He loosed anotherlong exhale. “A year.”
I had been afraidto look at him until now, afraid that he would see the insecurities floating soclose to the surface. But I wasn’t expecting a year, and had to turn to see hisface.
For someone thatcouldn’t make it past the first date, let alone secure a long-term boyfriend, ayear felt like forever. A year felt almost permanent. A year felt messy.
“You dated her foran entire year?” I didn’t mean to sound accusing or disappointed, but I feltboth.
His gaze met mineacross the restaurant. “Are you judging me?”
I lifted oneeyebrow to let him know that I was and pointed my paintbrush at him. “Shedidn’t like your sister. That’s pretty unacceptable.”
“We weren’t asserious as you think,” he argued. “We dated for a year, but we barely knew eachother. Barely even saw each other.”
“You named arestaurant after her.”
He leaned forwardin his chair, dropping his elbows on his knees. “I named a restaurant after apretty name that for a long time reminded me not to get distracted by prettythings.”
I laughed because…honestly. “So, Bianca,Sarita, andLilouare all cautionary tales? Past mistakes that you’reunwilling to make again?”
“Kind of patheticit took three of them, right?”
I shook my head athim, slowly moving it back and forth. He was unbelievable. “I can’t decide ifyou’re sugarcoating or not.”
“I lost my mom whenI was twelve.” His voice grated with deep grief that sounded surprisinglyfresh. “She was my entire world. Even when she was sick. And then one day, shewas gone. Not just her, but my whole life was over. I lost my home and myfriends, my school, my neighborhood, but most of all I lost the one person thatloved me. I spent the next four years in and out of foster homes until Ifinally met Jo, the one woman on the planet who wouldn’t put up with my shit.She was brutal sometimes—so heartless I questioned if she wasn’t a robot. Shewhipped my ass into shape and I will always be grateful for my time with her,but she did not come into my life and love me. She didn’t replace the missingpiece that I lost when my mom passed. And I’m okay with that now. Jo is a hardwoman that has her own grief to contend with. But for a long time, I thoughtthat not having someone in my life that loved me was a character flaw thatbelonged to me. I took the weight of that burden and carried it around for years.And as people came into my life offering something that looked like love, Icouldn’t help but be attracted to it. Even when it turned out to be false orbroken… or attached to strings.”
My hands trembledas he opened up to me. I hadn’t been expecting him to say or admit thesethings. I didn’t expect him to feel these things. His raw truth scraped at mychest, clawing its way to the heart of me, desperate to make me feel somethingso much deeper than what I was ready for. “Ezra.”
He gave me ahelpless look and a deprecating half smile. “Tragic, right?”
“You’re not,” Ipromised him.
He turned his headand it felt like he had torn his gaze away from me, like I’d been clinging toit, grasping it with two fists and he’d ripped it away from me. I was left withaching fingers and a hollow feeling carved out in the center of my chest.
“After Elena, Ishould have known better.”
“There are certainwomen out there that—”
He jerked his chin,interrupting me. “It’s a certain kind of person. They don’t have to be female.My dad was the same way. They’re users. They see something they want and theydo whatever they have to, become whatever they need to in order to get it.”
“How long did youknow your dad?”
