“It’s extremely important to most people.”
“Not to me.”
“What’s more important than being successful?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Being happy. Doing work you love. The way you make other people feel. Lending a hand to someone who needs it.”
“Huh, that’s a great answer,” I tell him, my voice thick with emotion. Okay, lust. It’s thick with lust.
“Why do you think you haven’t found the right guy? Is it because you work so much?”
“That’s what I tell myself anyway,” I say, surprising myself with my answer. But something about being alone here with him in the dark with the rain coming down outside draws out an honest answer I didn’t know was lurking in my heart. “The truth is, I haven’t given myself a chance to be loved. I’ve always had this voice in the back of my head telling me I need to be a success first.”
He’s quiet for a second, then he says, “Is that becauselove will get in the way of your career or because you don’t think you’re worthy of love until you’ve proven yourself?”
His question cuts right to the heart of the matter, and makes me think. When it takes me too long to respond, Mac says, “You don’t have to answer that. It was a nosy question.”
“No, I don’t mind. You’ve already shared a lot with me so it’s only fair,” I say, wanting so badly to reach up and touch his cheek. “I guess the answer is both. I’m afraid that if I fall for some guy right now, we’ll get married and have kids, and my shot at the big time will disappear while I’m busy wiping noses and running to soccer practice.” I chew on my lip for a second, then add, “But maybe there’s a part of me that doesn’t think I deserve it the way I am.”
“No offense, but that’s stupid.”
“Offense taken.”
“Seriously. Of course you deserve love. You’re a good person, you work hard and you care about other people.”
“Yeah, that’s nice of you to say, but you don’t know me that well. If you got to know me better, you’d see.”
“I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the last few days, and I can’t see anything wrong with you.”
Sighing, I say, “Oh God, there’s a list as long as my arm of my personal defects. I quit college, so it’s not like I achieved what I set out to there. And my job title isn’t exactly impressive. Most people think I’m just a secretary, including my parents. There’s always that last pesky fifteen pounds to lose and my hair never does what I want it to do. When I get dressed in the morning, there’s always a little something off with what I’m wearing. I can’t spot it until I get home at night and look in the mirror again—a skirt that’s not exactly the right length or a heel that doesn’t flatter my calves. You saw me with my orange spray tan. I should’ve gone for a light one, but Ialways,alwaysseem to pick the wrong thing. I’m never quite polished enough. Not like my mom and my sister, Tiffany. They just … know that stuff and they get it right.”
“That’s all superficial shit. None of those things determine your worth,” he says. “And I have to disagree with you about your clothes and hair. The spray tan was a little much, but anyone could make that mistake. Otherwise, I think you look really pulled together. Gorgeous, in fact.”
Gorgeous.I blush and grin, glad he can’t see my face. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”
“I know, but I’m not going to just lay here and listen to you shit talk about yourself without setting you straight,” he says, sounding a little angry. “The only thing wrong with you is that youthinkthere’s something wrong with you.”
“Look, that’s very nice of you to say, but?—”
“But nothing. You’re a very beautiful woman, and you’ve got a great voice. It’s smooth and strong and I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth next, which is a little bit exciting, if I’m honest,” he says in a low tone. “And as far as your figure goes, you’ve got curves for days and I think it would be a real shame if you gave them up. A real shame. If you want my opinion—and I know you don’t, but I’m going to give it to you anyway—I’d say the only thing you need to lose is the idea that you need to live up to some bullshit standard of perfection that doesn’t exist before you can let yourself be happy.”
“Oh,” I answer, trying to process everything he’s just said. It’s as if he’s just taken everything I’ve ever believed about myself and dumped it into the trash, while simultaneously replacing it with a much, much better way to see myself. “Okay then.”
“Okay then? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he asks, andI know he’s giving me a smug grin, even though I can’t see his ridiculously handsome face.
“Yes, well, you’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Good. Because you deserve to be happy. Exactly the way you are right now. And not just ‘as happy as one can be given the circumstances’ or whatever the hell you called it the other night. Actually happy,” he says. “If that includes a husband and some kids, go out and get it. Find some guy who’s willing to take on wiping noses and soccer runs so you can focus on your career. He’s out there, but you’ll never find him if you’re hiding in your office twenty hours a day.”
And just like that, my heart drops right through the mattress and onto the floor. For one brief, shining moment, I thought maybe this man, who seems to be able to see me in a way that no one else has, might want me. But then he immediately made it clear that he doesn’t. He knows who he is and what he wants out of life, and that isn’t going to change, no matter how much my heart wishes it would.
When I don’t answer him, he says, “You okay? Did I upset you?”
“No, not at all,” I lie. “You’ve just given me a lot to think about.”
“I hope you do think about what I said, because it’s all true. You’re an amazing woman, Paige. Let yourself have it all.”
Paige. Not New York. Paige. Hearing my name come out of his lips is like the sweetest music ever played. How awful is it that he’s saying all the things I need to hear from a man—all the most wonderful, kind, loving things—at the same time that he’s rejecting me? Doing my best to sound bright and happy, I say, “Thanks. Well, we should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
