“Why? Why did you want to be perfect for so long?”
“Because it made life easier? Because it was nice to be praised?” She sighed. “My parents…they were similar to yours. My father’s dependence on my mother was unhealthy. He always talked about how he wasn’t worthy of her. I think Maddie sometimes thinks it’s romantic to literally not be able to live without the other person. That their marriage was wonderful because Dad pined for Mom so much, and Mom…Mom pined in the good times too. They told each other every day how much they loved each other and that they were nothing without each other. But…it wasn't romantic. It was just toxic. It’s the reason I became a couples' therapist. Because they weren’t unhappy, they just weren’t talking. If they had communicated, then maybe Mom wouldn’t have…then maybe she would have…”
“Then she would have what?” he asked quietly, tracing the contours of her face with his thumb.
“Then maybe she wouldn’t have cheated on him so damn often.”
Her eyes shone, but she wasn’t crying. There was no sadness in her gaze. Just resignation. A little anger.
“She gave me that nickname, you know?Perfect Rachel. Because I was her perfect little girl, the one who kept all her secrets. My sisters always say we had a special relationship…and it’s true. I was her best friend, the one she revealed her affairs to, the one who lied for her. So, special isn’t always good. She felt constrained by his love, by the fact that she couldn’t do anything wrong — so she would do something wrong on purpose. And afterward, she was always heartbroken and cried so much, but…it didn’t stop her from doing it again. Because that was the only way she was able to feel free. And if you don’t feel free in a marriage, you have to tell your partner. Not your daughter! Because people can work on that together, in a relationship. That’s what couples' therapy is for!”
She pressed her lips together and took a shaky breath — and it all made sense, why she’d become a couples' therapist. Why she believed in determining if people were compatible in advance, so that everyone had the same expectations and were communicating with each other before they even knew each other.
“So I was perfect,” she continued quietly. “Because if I hadn’t been, Dad would have asked what was wrong, and I couldn’t tell him that Mom was to blame. That she was cheating on him, and that she told me, but not him. And then I grew up, and Mom stopped cheating. As far as I know. But I carried that secret with me, running away from my family for fear of revealing it — until I’d had enough, and dared Mom to finally tell and make it easier for me. She begged me not to force her, that things were going so well, and…I said I needed to think about it. A week later, she died. And I still think about that,” she whispered, and a tear escaped from the corner of her eye, ran down her cheek, and wet his bicep where her head rested. “I want to tell Maddie, Lucy,and Dad why I left. Why I act that way, and why it’s so hard for me to open up. Because every time I’ve done so, it’s ended up hurting someone. And I feel so damn weak. Because I can’t make a decision, and because I didn’t tell Mom sooner that enough was enough. And I hate feeling weak and helpless. That was why I avoided coming back to L.A. for so long. Seeing my dad. Because my family always makes me feel…weak.” Groaning, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so stupid! I got tired of carrying my mother’s secrets…and I became a therapist! A job where I keep secrets professionally. I want to stop the secrets, but I don’t want to hurt my sisters and my dad. They miss Mom so much, and Dad’s still not over her. Really, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? What she did ten years ago, I…”
“Of course, it matters,” Connor interrupted calmly. “The truth always matters.”
“Says the guy who never told his siblings how much he suffered because of his parents’ relationship?” she whispered.
“Yes. Especially him. Because he knows how you feel. Because he knows you’re hiding from your siblings because you don’t want to do anything wrong. Because you feel like you’ve never lived up to their expectations, and have already done too many things wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong…”
“I couldn’t convince Mom and Dad to split up. It would have been better if they had split up.”
“But that wasn’t your responsibility.”
“Just like it wasn’t yours to keep quiet about your mother’s lovers. You have the right to be understood, Rachel. And Maddie and Lucy won’t understand until you’re honest with them.”
“But what if I tarnish their memory of Mom? If they hate her even though she wasn’t a bad person, even though she did a lot of things right? What if I hurt them?”
“You’re not the one hurting them, Rachel,” he whispered urgently, because it was important that she understand. “Your mother hurt them. Just like she hurt you years ago. And you had no one to comfort you. Lucy and Maddie will have you to comfort them, and you deserve to be comforted.”
“But I don’t want to be responsible for them and Dad feeling bad. For him to see the woman he still adores in a different light.”
He pulled her closer until both her hands were on his chest. He opened his legs to take her feet between them and give her the security he felt with her. “Did you know that happiness isn’t used in the plural?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Happiness is a singularity. A word that lives in the I. Not the we. It’s only used in the singular.”
Irritated, she looked at him. “You don’t have to prove to me that your brain hasn’t suffered damage from loneliness, Connor. I believe you’re smart anyway.”
He suppressed a smile. “That wasn’t what I was getting at. Rachel, if the word itself can only be used in the singular…why should we care about the plural? If we only care about someone else’s happiness, ours inevitably falls by the wayside. It’s not selfish to focus only on your own happiness. Because there’s no one else who will do it for you, or who knows better than you what makes you happy. We can help, we can listen, and we can talk, but everyone has to decide for themselves. Each individual has to take responsibility and blame for their own life and actions. I…” He took a deep breath. “It’s not my fault that my mother didn’t leave my father and made us children unhappy with her misery. It took me a long time, but I know that now. And it’s not your fault that your mother cheated on your father. So, start taking care of your own happiness. No one else will do it for you. And if you can only be happy when you rid yourself ofthe burden you’ve been carrying with you for years... Shit, then do it.”
She stared at him, her mouth open. They were so close that Connor couldn’t distinguish between her warmth and his, her scent and his. They weren’t like happiness. Not a singularity. Not an I. But they were an unlikely we.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I can’t believe I ever thought you were insensitive.”
He smiled crookedly. “Don’t tell anyone. Otherwise, Cian will suddenly only want to talk to me about his feelings, and shit, that guy has a lot.”
Rachel laughed, and then she kissed him, his lips, his neck, as if she wanted to tell him she’d had enough of talking and thinking. That she needed a break.
Which was good. Because he already knew exactly how they could use it…
Chapter Nineteen
