“Yeah?” He can’t hide the smile beaming at me, brighter than that late afternoon light glinting through the windshield.
“Mmm,” I affirm. “Before…I don’t know how to describe it. It was like I got judged? Constantly felt weighed and measured, like all these random people who knew I was in your life were wondering why.”
He shakes his head, rejecting the thought. “That’s bullshit, Gem.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I don’t know why it bothered me as much as it did. But every time someone new found out I was your assistant, or your friend, it was like they had expectations for who I should be, and I didn’t measure up to them.” An acidic note creeps into my voice by the end, and I swallow it down.
His face cracks, sadness leaking out of the broken bits. “Gem, you’ve always belonged. It’s me who didn’t fit in without you.”
His words soothe me more than I want to admit.
“Well, it felt different today,” I say after a minute.
“How?” he prods for more.
“I feel…seen?” Not sure the right word. And truthfully, I don’t know if it’s the way others are seeing me that’s changed, or maybe how I see myself, and what’s between us. I’m scared it’s the latter, that it wasmefinding myself wanting all along. “Like this is how it should be.”
“When you’re with me, you’re exactly where you should be.” His voice drips with the kind of adoration I’ve craved from him since I can remember, then hardens in an instant, like he inhaled liquid nitrogen, when he speaks again. “Fuck anyone who doesn’t get that.”
I give him an appreciative lift of my lips. “But also, I think…” I sigh, admitting the truth to myself for the first time. “I think I finally feel worthy myself?” It comes out like a question.
“That’s ridiculous,” Aaron says a little louder than he probably meant to. “You’ve always been more than fucking worthy.” He’s shaking his head furiously.
“I think I know that now,” I go on. “But I think I had to work out more ofmyselffor myself, if that makes sense?”
“Kinda?” he says, like he doesn’t really get it, but he wants to.
“I think I was too uncertain in who I was on my own to really feel like I fully belonged in the world you’ve made for yourself.”
His eyes find mine and hold them for a tick too long to be safe while driving, and I look away. He clearly disapproves of the self-doubt I’m admitting to, but I think it might be true. And we do complete honesty now.
When I speak again, it’s to the passing trees and billboards out my window. “I dunno, but it all feels different now. After everything between us. Going out on my own, having my own little adventures. I feel like I found peace with myself, I think. Certainty in what I can do, who I am.”
He nods, musing over my words while his thumb tracks back and forth over my hand.
“And I think…” I start, pausing and looking back at him. “This is what I want.”
When we come to a red light, he turns to face me, holding my hand with both of his, urging me to continue with those imploring eyes.
“Like, building this life together,” I tell him. “Being your partner in life. I think it’s maybe what I’m meant to do.”
The light changes again, and he reluctantly looks back to the road, taking one hand with him for the steering wheel.
“Go on,” he says.
“I don’t want to be your assistant again,” I tell him.
“Definitely not,” he says adamantly.
“But I think we make a good team.”
“The best,” he says.
“I think you need me,” I tell him, grinning at him.
“I fucking do.”
“Will you let me finish?” I say, laughing at him.
