"And speaking of the arrest," I continue, because I'm on a roll now, because all of this has been building up and I might as well get it all out, "I still have to deal with that. Legally. Financially. I have a court date in three weeks that I've been pretending doesn't exist. I don't even know if I need a lawyer, or what happens if I can't afford one, or what the consequences are if I just ignore it and hope it goes away. I've been avoiding thinking about it because I don't have any answers and thinking about it makes me want to drink."
"I can help with that." Ivan straightens, his face shifting to determination. "I have money saved. I told you that. I can pay for a lawyer, pay back Mick, whatever you need."
"No fucking way."
"Why?"
"No." I say it louder this time. "I'm not taking your money for my fuck ups. Jesus, Ivan, we can't start a relationship out like that."
"Why not? I've been saving it for years. For exactly this kind of situation."
"You saved it to build a life. Not to bail out your disaster of a boyfriend. I'm not going to let you pour your savings into fixing my problems while I sit here and contribute nothing. While I bring nothing to the table except debt and arrests and addiction."
"But that's what partners do. They help each other."
"It's not a partnership when one person has everything and the other person has nothing." I stand up from the bed, needing distance. "Look at us. You have a job that pays well, a family that loves you, a future that makes sense. I have a motel room and a drinking problem I'm barely keeping under control and an arrest I don't know how to resolve. How is that a partnership? How is that anything other than you rescuing me? You playing savior to my disaster?"
"It's not about rescuing you. I care about us being together."
"And I care about being someone worth being with." I turn to face him, force myself to look at his face even though it hurts. "Rosalyn already told you she was worried about me. When she finds out the truth, she's going to see exactly what I'm telling you. That I'm a fucking mess. Someone who puts her kids at risk just by existing near them."
Ivan's eyes are bright with unshed tears. I can see him fighting them back.
"I don't want to wait for us to be together," he says. "I found you and I don't want to be apart anymore. I don't want to drive back and forth. I don't want to only see you on weekends. I want you with me all the time."
"I want that too and I'm not asking you to wait forever. I'm not asking you to put your life on hold indefinitely." I sit back down on the edge of the bed. "I'm just asking you to let me get my feet under me first. Let me deal with my shit before I come into your life and make a mess of everything you've built."
"What does that mean? Get your feet under you?"
"It means I need to deal with the arrest myself. Figure out what I owe, what I'm facing, what my options are. Do I need a lawyer? Can I represent myself? What are the consequences? I need to know." I take a breath. "I need to pay Mick back because he took a chance on me whenhe had no reason to, and I won't let him down. And I need to work on the drinking. Really work on it. Not just white-knuckling through the weekends when you're here to distract me, but actually dealing with the root of it."
"And what am I supposed to do? Just sit at home and hope you're okay?"
"You can still visit me. Call me every night like we planned. Text me during the day. Be patient with me." I finally reach out and take his hand, lace our fingers together. "Let me try to become someone who deserves you. Someone Rosalyn can look at and think, okay, I get it, I understand why Ivan chose him. Not someone she looks at and sees every red flag in the book. Not someone who makes her worry about her license and her kids."
"You already deserve me."
"Give me time to believe that too, then." I squeeze his fingers, hold on tight. "I'm not going to be your charity project. I'm not going to be the broken thing you drag home and try to fix with love and good intentions. When I come to you, it's going to be because I've earned it. Because I've done the work. Because I can look you and Rosalyn and those kids in the eye and know I'm not putting anyone at risk."
A tear escapes down his cheek, cuts a track through his face, and he wipes it away angrily with the back of his hand.
"Fuck, I hate that you're right," he says finally. "I hate everything about this conversation."
"I hate it too. I hate that this is our reality, but it is and we can't ignore it."
"I want you with me. All the time. I don't want to leave you here alone, knowing you're struggling, knowing you might—" He stops, can't finish.
"Might what? Drink? Fall apart?" I don't look away from him. "Yeah. I might. That's the truth. I might fail. I might fuck this up. But I'm less likely to do it if I'm working toward something. If I have a goal. If I know that every day I stay sober is a day closer to being with you for real. To earning my place in your life."
"You promise you'll work on it? Not just say you will?"
"I promise. I'll call about the arrest on Monday. I'll find out what I'm dealing with."
"And you'll deal with the drinking?"
"I'll try. I can't promise I won't slip. I can't promise it'll be easy or fast. But I'll try."
"And if you need money..." He holds up his hand when I start to protest. "Just listen. Please. If you need money and you can't get it anywhere else, if there's literally no other option, you tell me. Promise me, you won't just suffer in silence or let things get worse because you're too proud to ask for my help."
