He didn’t lack confidence.
Not in general.But he still felt like the bottom of the barrel in a lot of ways.
Definitely not the kind of man who ought to have Ellie moving in with him.
It was funny, because she’d been so high above him back then.He didn’t know what he’d thought she would do, but choosing an occupation so mundane as a teacher definitely wasn’t it.She seemed like an untouchable little rich girl to him.
Soft and enticing, something he wanted in spite of himself.
He was arguably now the one with more status.Rich and in some circles famous, but his childhood feelings of inferiority didn’t go away.They clung to him like ropes he couldn’t quite get free of.
It was a helluva thing, that he could be a champion and still have the feeling that he wasn’t quite good enough.
He really hated that.Good enough.What the hell did that even mean?And who was he trying to impress?
He supposed he could blame it on childhood trauma and growing up in a small town and all of that stuff.
He’d actually done some therapy in the last few years.
And thank God, because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be prepared for this.To be a father.
“It’s great that Marjorie has the two of you,” Mrs.C.said when Ellie came back down the stairs.
“It’s good that we have her,” he said.
“Agreed,” Ellie said.
They looked at each other and smiled, because they’d already seamlessly done what they’d agreed to do.Coparenting at itsfinest.Hell, they both had married parents who didn’t seem to coordinate that well with each other.
He hadn’t lived with another person … in a long time.For years he’d basically lived out of a motel, and he’d been mostly by himself.
So as they headed back toward the homestead, he was overcome by a sense of strangeness.
He was shacking up with Ellie Parks, and he’d still never even touched her, never kissed her the way he used to fantasize about doing in high school.
She still got to him.Still made him burn for things he couldn’t quite have.
They started bringing the boxes up to her bedroom.It didn’t take long.
“I really do need to call my mom,” she said, looking around the room.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.“I’m not … not in regular contact with her.Talking to her is always difficult and so is she, and … I feel very protective of Marjorie.I’m worried that my mom is going to say something messed up that we can’t come back from.”
“If that happens, then at least we are liberated from having to keep in touch with her.”
“I guess.”
He wanted to move closer to her, wanted to hold her face.Wanted to comfort her, but he had to ask himself if that was actually a selfless inclination.Or did he just want to put his hands on her?
He knew the answer.He just wanted to touch her.Finally.
“Why do you think she’s going to have a negative response?”
“I don’t know.Because she’s going to say something messed up about your family.”
“Don’t you kind of say messed-up stuff to me about that all the time?”
