“Because I knew the second you found out, you’d go straight into fixer mode, like I’m a fragile, helpless damsel in need of saving.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“It’s not what you say, Josh,” she ground out. “It’s what you do. It’s how you react.”
I dragged my hand through my hair. Fuck. How could I get her to understand? “I love you. And when I saw that card, my brain went straight to worst-case scenarios. I can’t just stand here and pretend it’s all fine.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend.” Her voice wobbled, her eyes welling. “I’m asking you to trust me. To respect me. And stop with the pity.Please.”
Fuck. I was the world’s biggest asshole.
“I don’t want your pity,” she said, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
I took a step closer and wiped it away with my thumb. “It’s not pity. It’s love.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve got a superhero complex. Like your mission is to help the pathetic single mom who can’t get her shit together.”
“Do you actually think that?” I asked, lifting her chin. “Have you met you? You have your shit together. You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone.”
Her expression softened, but only for a moment. Then it was harder than ever, and she was stepping back, putting space between us. “I’ve spent years being scared,” she said. “For years, someone else decided what was safe for me. What I could do, where I could go, who I could speak to.” She swallowed thickly. “I won’t live like that again. Not even for you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is being pitied.”
“I don’t pity you.”
“You do,” she said, her lips tugging down. “Maybe not consciously, but I see it. The way you jump in to take care of my messes. The way you brace yourself like I’m a bomb that could go off at any time.”
I stepped back, reeling. Her words were like a punch to the gut. “You’re not a mess. You’re a survivor.”
“I know I am,” she said. “Because I saved myself.”
We stood, staring at one another, the kitchen suddenly too small for this conversation, for all the baggage we were carrying.
“I don’t know how to love you without wanting to protect you,” I said softly.
She closed her eyes, her body deflating. When she opened them, her voice was gentler. “Then you need to learn,” she said. “Because I want you. I choose you. But I’m not going to shrink or change. I’m not giving up all my hard-won independence to make you feel useful.”
Her words landed with a heavy thud.
“I hear you,” I said. “I think I just need some air.”
She nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“I’ll step out for now, but that doesn’t mean I’m leaving,” I said quickly. “This matters to me, and I don’t want to mess it up even more.”
With a nod, she picked up her coffee mug, her hands shaking.
So with one last look at her, I turned and headed for the front door.
Love wasn’t the problem here. Fear was. Mine. Hers. And we had to find a way to live with both.
Chapter 41
Celine
Despite the frustration that came along with my argument with Josh, I put on a smile and enjoyed the morning with the kids. We baked banana bread and ate it in our jammies while playing Monopoly on the living room floor. Then Ellie put on music, and we had a dance party.
