“What’s love to you?” he asked. “Do you think it’s living here in this house with me? Do you think it’s the two of us making love and laughing, and not dealing with the real world at all?”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice small. “Don’t make it like that.”
He interrupted her, not letting her finish, ignoring the hurt on her face. “Let me tell you what love is to me. A continual slog of violence. Blind optimism that propels you down the aisle of a church and then into making vows to people who are never going to do right by you. And I don’t even mean just my wife. I meanme. You said it yourself. I was a bad husband.”
“Not on the same level as your father,” she argued. “Not like your wife was a bad wife.”
He shrugged. “What did she get from me? Nothing but my money, clearly. And what about in your family? They’re normal, and I think they might even be good people, and they still kind of mess you up.”
“I guess you’re right. Loving other people is never going to be simple, or easy. It’s not a constant parade of happiness. Love moves. It shifts. It changes. Sometimes you give more, and sometimes you take more. Sometimes love hurts. And there’s not a whole lot anyone can do about that.But it’s worth it.That’s what it comes down to for me. I know this might be a tough road, a hard one. But I also know that love is important. It matters.”
“Why?” he asked, the question torn from the depths of his soul.
He wanted to understand.
On some level, he was desperate to figure out why she thought he was worth all this. This risk—sitting before him, literally naked, confessing her feelings, tearing her chest open and showing those vulnerable parts of herself. He wanted to understand why he merited such a risk.
When no one else in his life had ever felt the same.
“All my life I’ve had my sketch pad between myself and the world,” she said. “And when it hasn’t been my sketchbook it’s been my accomplishments. What I’ve done for my family. I can hold out all these things and use them to justify my existence. But I don’t have to do that with you. I don’t think I really have to do it with my family, but it makes me feel safe. Makes me feel secure. I don’t have to share all that much of myself, or risk all that much of myself. I can stand on higher ground and be impressive, perfect even. It’s easy for people to be proud of me. The idea of doing something just for myself, the idea of doing something that might make someone judge me, or make someone reject me, is terrifying. When you live like I have, the great unknown is failure. You were never impressed with me. You wanted my architecture because it was a status symbol, and for no other reason.”
“That isn’t true. If I didn’t like what you designed, I would never have contacted you.”
“Still. It was different with you. At first, I thought it was because you were a stranger. I told myself being with you was like taking a class. Getting good at sex, I guess, with a qualified teacher. But it wasn’t that. Ever. It was just you. Real chemistry with no explanation for it.”
“Chemistry still isn’t love, Faith,” he said, his voice rough.
She ignored him. “I want to quit needing explanations about something magical happening. I wanted to be close to you without barriers. Without borders. No sketchbook, no accomplishments. You made me want something flawed and human inside myself that scared me before.”
“The idea of some flawed existence is only a fantasy for people who’ve had it easy.”
She frowned. “It’s not a fantasy. The idea that there is such a thing as perfect is the fantasy. Maybe it’s the fantasy you have. But there is no perfect. And I’ve been scared to admit that.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, Faith moved to the edge of the bed and stood before continuing. “My life has been easy compared to yours. You made me realize how strong a person can be. I’ve never met someone like you. Someone who had to push through so much pain. You made yourself out of nothing. My family might come from humble beginnings, but it isn’t the same. We had each other. We had support. You didn’t have any of that.
“I don’t want you to walk alone anymore, Levi. I want to walk with you. From where I’m sitting right now, that’s the greatest accomplishment I could ever hope to have. To love and be loved by someone like you. To choose to walk our own path together.”
“My path is set,” he said, standing. “It has been set from the beginning.”
He looked down at her, at her luminous face. Her eyes, which were full of so much hope.
So much foolish hope.
She didn’t understand what she was begging him to do. He had thought of it earlier. That he could pull her inside and lock her in this cage with him.
And he might be content enough with that for a while, but eventually... Eventually she wouldn’t be.
Because this hatred, this rage that lived inside him, was a life sentence.
Something he had been born with. Something he feared he would never be able to escape.
And asking Faith to live with him, asking Faith to live with what he was—that would be letting her serve a life sentence with him. And if anyone on this earth was innocent, it was her.
Even so, it was tempting.
He could embrace the monster completely and hold this woman captive. This woman who had gripped him, body and soul, and stolen his sense of self-preservation, stolen his sense of justwhyvengeance was so important.
It was all he had. It consumed him. It drove him.
