Jasper’s body went rigid. “What the fuck? How could he do that?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “When I came home for Christmas after my first semester of college, he called me a loser at dinner, in front of my grandparents and cousins, because I’d gotten a B in philosophy. Went on and on about how I was wasting his money drinking beer and eating pizza instead of studying.
“No matter what I did, I was wrong. When I failed my driving test because I couldn’t parallel park, got a poor grade on a hard test, or dropped a glass in the kitchen, it always came back to my body.”
He tucked my head against his chest, his warm palm cupping my jaw, and I let myself breathe in the scent of him.
“The way you’re shaking… This trauma lives in your nervous system, and something about tonight brought it all back. Maybe because you were tired and overwhelmed…” He trailed off, stroking my hair.
All my life, my parents had made sure I understood that I was inferior. I was fat and stupid and I wasn’t beautiful like my sisters and my mother.
I was an embarrassment. I reflected poorly on my family.
It was my original sin. If I’d been thin and beautiful, my childhood would have been so different.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “You are beautiful and smart and capable. You are a wonderful mother to our son. And those people have no place in your life here.”
“I went no contact two years ago.” I sighed. “Sometimes I text with my older sister, and I did text my parents when Vincent was born, but that’s it.”
He hummed. “I’m proud of you.”
A strange mixture of doubt and hope swirled inside me. No one had ever said that to me before, especially in regard to cutting off my shitty family.
“What is wrong with me?” It was time to defuse the emotional intensity of this moment. “Vincent has an ear infection, and I’m sitting here making it all about me.”
“It is about you,” he whispered. “You’re Vincent’s mom. And he deserves the best mom. A mom who is loved and supported and healed. So I’m here. To listen whenever you need me to.”
“You give great hugs,” I blurted awkwardly.
He broke into a smile, like that was the best compliment he’d ever received.
But he was great at so many other things too.
I blushed just thinking about all the ways he took care of us. About his confidence and charisma.
“How do you do it?” I asked. “Remain calm. Be so damn optimistic?”
“Calm is relative,” he murmured. “And I’ve been trained to handle emergencies without letting my nerves get to me, so I can’t take credit for that.”
“No, I don’t believe it.” I flattened a hand on his chest and pulled back. “This is who you are. This isn’t about training.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I panic just as much as the next person. But I’m good at compartmentalizing so I can focuson what needs doing. It’s a skill that’s been drilled into me for almost a decade.”
I huffed. “Deny it all you want, but I think your ability to problem-solve and the way you make everyone feel safe are your superpowers.”
Removing my hand from his warm, solid chest, I sat back on the couch. The moment was getting too intimate for my comfort. Now that I’d gathered my wits, my skin prickled at the thought of how much I’d exposed myself to him.
“What’s wrong?”
I pushed my hair behind my ears, conscious of how gross I must look. God, couldn’t I at least look cute during my emotional breakdown?
“I just spilled my secrets.” I avoided his eye. “So I’m feeling a bit exposed.”
“Okay, then I’ll tell you a secret.”
I sat up straighter, crossing my arms, hoping the move would help me put a little more emotional distance between us.
“I love rom-coms,” he said quietly.
