No slobber again. He’s going soft on me.
“You should be able to count on a person who wants to marry you. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to hear the facts out loud. You deserve better.”
“When Nathan told me about the baby, he cried. He thought I’d dump him right then, but that would’ve been heartless. He was trying to make things right. I know he can’t take it back. She wants him to be at the next doctor’s appointment, so I’m trying to respect all sides. I know he’s not himself right now.”
I notice the flex in his jaw when he speaks again.
“I love what that says about you, but if this is who he is in a crisis, what does that say about him?”
“I’m trying to be patient, but I’m failing,” I squeak with the dreaded onset of tears.
I cannot stop talking. I need a therapist, and I shouldn’t be telling Daniel any of this, but like it or not, it’s my story now too. Tension from the last few weeks bubbles to the surface, and tears slip out as we pull into the village.
“Youaren’t failing. Just because you have a high pain tolerance doesn’t mean you should tolerate any of this. Lu, no. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. You know what? Go ahead. Cry as much as you need to,” he says as he steers the wheel to park in front of my building with his left hand. His right hand still holdsmine in a death grip. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. None of this is your fault.”
“No, I’m sorry. I talk too much when I’m tired. It’s heartburn and allergy eyes. I’m fine.”
“Stop it.Heartburn and allergy eyes—you’re ridiculous.” He huffs a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “You’re not going to apologize for needing people, remember? Do you need that in writing? I’ll make it permanent this time. I have the connections to make it happen.”
He really shouldn’t tempt me. I’ve been wanting another tattoo.
He puts the car in park and then comes around to my side. It’s starting to rain with some lightning flashes in the distance. He opens my door and waits for me to gather my hat, phone, and wallet before pulling me to his side. We’re almost to my door when the bottom falls out, and we get drenched.
I start to say I don’t have my keys when he pulls them from his pocket. Of course, he has them. He thinks of everything. I wonder if he’s secretly working for my mom cleverly disguised as a “too good to be true” neighbor.
Nah … with my luck, he’s probably a serial killer. One day it’ll be on the news, and people will say, “He was so helpful and sweet. We didn’t suspect a thing, but come to think of it, he did have tattoos and long hair.”
Chapter 4
Feel the Thunder
Daniel grabs my oversize throw pillows and tosses them on the floor in front of the couch where we watch TV, while I get some towels. “Lucy, you realize there’s no prize for who can put up with the most crap, right? Trust me. I’ve checked. And I’ve seen what happens when you hold everything in.”
I am a fortress. I almost never melt down, butalmostis the key word here, and of course he was the recipient of my last meltdown too. He’s lucky like that.
He takes a towel and guides me to our usual spot, tugging me to the floor. We lean back into the pillows, mirroring each other, hip to hip—one leg outstretched and the opposite knee pulled up.
“You have a right to be upset,” he insists.
But why do I always cry on him?
I never cry at appropriate times. Not when customers scream at me, or when my grandfather died, or when my dad jerked me up by my ponytail because Layla tripped over me sitting on the living room floor when we were kids.
Yes, I’ve always preferred the floor.
Something about DC unlocks all the dusty closets where I shove my feelings. Honestly, it’s ridiculous.
“It’s not about me. Nathan doesn’t know if he can legally demand a paternity test if she says her husband’s the bio dad. She holds all the power because she knows he wants the baby. He’s overwhelmed. I can’t expect him to be concerned with me right now. I’m fine. It’s just bad timing with my car, and I’m frustrated.”
Daniel reaches for a box of tissues on the coffee table, and thunder cracks, making me jump. He hands me the box and pulls his phone out to see the weather app.
“But it does affect you. And it’shis job, Lu. He doesn’t get to be with you and not be concerned with you. Does he know your car needs an alternator?”
He drapes my towel, then his arm, platonic but comforting, over my shoulders. The lights flicker as the sounds of rain and thunder get louder.
“Um … he knows I’ve had some problems. His brother boosted it for me to get home yesterday, but I haven’t talked to Nathan today.” I stare at the black pattern around Daniel’s arm, resting on his knee, before glancing up at his face.
His mouth presses into a straight line, and he takes a slow breath. I wonder if anything gets to him. He’s always in control, but that’s his tell—the pause and deep breath. I hate how much I cause that tiny display of irritation in him.
