“I told you. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear why you can’t be with me. What I want is for you to sit with this. I want you to think on it. Because I deserve that much consideration. At least that’s what I think. I love you. Like in love with you. I always have. When you moved into my parents’ house, it was the single most glorious and hideous thing ever. Because I could be with my crush all the time, but also, you could see me in my pajamas. But now, you see me naked. In my pajamas. Looking a mess, looking good. We were already halfway there. That’s why there hasn’t been anyone for me. It’s always been you. I have never been able to imagine myself with somebody else.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. And he meant it. Because it was a damn shame that this sweet, wonderful woman had never been able to imagine herself with another man because she had imprintedon him like a baby chicken way back when. She deserved more. More than him. A man who was scared to death of relationships of any kind. Hell.
“Don’t,” she said. “I don’t want your regretful apologies. I don’t want your sad-eyed rejection. What I want is for you to sit with yourself and tell me the real reason you don’t think we can be together.”
“Your family . . .”
“Loves you.”
“Your brother is my best friend.”
“Yes. And he loves you. He knows what a good guy you are. He never stops talking about it. You don’t seem to understand that you gave something to us too. Do you have any idea how afraid Matthew was that his friends would reject him? Big tough guys that you all were. And some of them did.”
“Those guys didn’t matter. What kind of person gives a shit about who their friend loves?”
“A lot of people. But you don’t. To the point you don’t even understand why somebody would. You don’t even understand that what you gave to him was real friendship. That it mattered. You’re so stuck on the idea that you’re a charity case, and that we didn’t get anything from you. But it isn’t true. We love you. All of us do. And you have been a gift to us. So sit with that. Don’t worry about what my family will think, other than the fact that they really, really care about you. And then . . . get over yourself.”
Then Lydia Clay turned and walked away, leaving him standing there with the animals that she had brought into his life, and an ache in his chest that hadn’t existed before.
She had broken up with him, kind of. The ball was in his court.
But he had no idea what to do with it next.
Chapter 10
Lydia called her brother before she was even halfway back home. “Just so you know, I slept with Remy. And he rejected me.”
“Hold on,” said Matthew. “What?”
“I . . . I slept with him. A while ago. And then just today I told him that I loved him, but you know he can’t handle that.”
Her brother made a noise that she had never heard him make before. It was almost a scream, halfway a growl, and also something sort of defeated and resigned. “That is just . . . I’m annoyed at both of you, to be honest.”
“Why?”
“Because. He’s a disaster, even though he’s the greatest guy I know, and if he was going to get into a relationship with you, he really should have . . . because obviously you . . .”
“I obviously what?”
“I know you used to have a crush on him. I just didn’t know that it persisted.”
“Oh yeah. It persisted big-time.”
“Well, I just wish you’d talked to me first.”
“Why? So you could talk me out of it?”
“No. I would never . . . I would never try to tell you what to do. You’re a grown woman. But I would’ve tried to . . . give you tips and tricks on how to handle him? Because he’s the whole thing. And he’s emotionally—”
“I know. I know he is. And actually, I think I handled it pretty well. It just hurts. And sucks. But I knew he wasn’t going to be able to accept it. I told him I didn’t care. I told him that I wantedhim to sit with it and think about it. I didn’t let him give me a whole spiel on how he can’t love and whatever else.”
“Well. You did pretty well.”
“Thank you.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“A hurt idiot,” she said.
