Page 4 of Without Pride and Prejudice
“I care about your life,” he snapped.
His tone caught me off guard. “Why are you angry with me?”
“I’ve never been angry with you. But for you to think I don’t care about what happens in your life is an insult.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you. From here on out, I’ll be sure to keep you informed about all aspects of my love life,” I said with an air of brevity, still shaken by his reaction.
“I don’t need or want gory details,” he deadpanned.
“Darn it. And here I was thinking you wanted to know that Leif did this—”
“Monroe, please don’t go any further.”
I giggled. I hadn’t planned on saying anything salacious. “On that fun note, I should probably get some sleep. I’m living the rock star life now.”
“It’s not the life you want, is it?” he asked, concerned.
“No. I’m still trying to save up to open my studio. That takes time. But when the summer is over, I’ll go back to giving private piano and voice lessons to my previous students. Hopefully I’ll add more students as time goes on. In the meantime, I’ll look for a full-time job that will allow me to do both.”
“Let me help you.”
We’d had this conversation before. “You know I adore you for wanting to help, but I never want money to come between us.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that. I’ll figure it out. If not—”
“We’ll revisit my offer.”
“Oh fine, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”
“Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. By the way, thank you for the books. I can’t wait to get home and read them. Maybe we could start our own little book club.”
“I would like that.”
“You would?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not smart like all your other friends.”
“Monroe, you are intelligent, and the only real friend I have.”
While I loved that he thought I was smart, I was sad knowing he had dozens of people who considered themselves his friends but didn’t know the real him because he wouldn’t let them. I don’t know how I’d gotten so lucky to earn his trust. “Well, since you put it like that, I guess we’d better start our book club.”
He laughed a rare laugh. “I look forward to it.”
“Me too. I miss you.”
“I miss you.” He always said it with some hesitation. Almost like he shouldn’t, or didn’t want to admit to missing me, as if it made him weak somehow. But I knew he meant it all the same.
“Goodbye, Fitz.” Those words always hurt.
“Goodbye, Monroe.” Those words hurt even more.
Eighteen Months Ago
