“You used to hate me, too.” I don’t like saying it, but I feel compelled to get everything out in the open.
She shakes her head. “I actually didn’t. I resented how you treated me, but ... it was closer to pity than contempt.”
I groan. “I think that’s worse.”
“Is it?” Her compassionate tone makes me stop and consider.
Maybe it isn’t worse. Maybe it meant she saw underneath the sneering facade to someone who was insecure and scared and unhappy. Someone whose parents hadn’t done right by him, as Ralph often points out.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper, and her mouth twists.
“Gideon, I need to know ... Are you sure being with me isn’t some path to redemption or a manifestation of self-loathing?”
My stomach feels hollow. God, if that’s what she thinks, no wonder she doesn’t see a future for us. “No. Is that what it is for you?”
“I don’t hate myself, Gideon.” She says it gently, and the implication is that I do.
And honestly, I do hate myself for everything I said and did in an effort to be the son my father wanted me to be. What better way to spite my dead dad than to take up with the extraordinary girl who’d drawn his ire, the target of my own childish taunts? What better method of self-flagellation?
Except while I might hate what I did and who I’d been, I’m not here now out of some misguided attempt to get back at my father, and I’m not trying to fuck my way to forgiveness.
“So whyareyou here?” she asks softly, and I give the question due consideration.
The simplest answer is that I want to be.
Why? Because Ilikeher. Beyond the physical attraction. Beyond the combustible chemistry. I like her wit and her sharp mind. I like her prim tone and her lusty sighs. I like that she doesn’t shy away from what needs to be said or done, and I like that she’s practical and hardworking but also playful and fun.
The patient understanding in her eyes nearly masks the uncertainty lurking there. She’s so strong, but with a soft, caring, and compassionate heart beating beneath the armor. Once I would have sneered at it as a weakness, but now I know it’s her greatest strength.
I drag in a breath. Being vulnerable doesnotcome easily to me, is in fact something I’ve avoided for nearly my whole life.
But I’m trying to change, right? To grow. To be better.
Even if this isn’t going anywhere, I promised to communicate. So I do.
“It’s you. I just like being with you.”
To my surprise, she scoffs. “No, you don’t. I’m a bossy smart-ass, remember? That hasn’t changed.”
“But I have,” I say seriously. “And the bossy smart-ass thing is a turn-on.”
She still looks skeptical, so I take her hand.
“What you said earlier, about not wanting to be alone for the holidays? It’s enough.” I hold her gaze as I press a slow kiss to her knuckles. “For now.”
It isn’t, but if she doesn’t want to pursue this any further, I have to be okay with it.
Even if it destroys me, as Ralph seems worried it will.
The bartender asks pointedly if we want anything else, so we take that as our cue to leave. Outside, a light snow has started to fall, and I order a car for Valencia. If left to her own devices, she’ll walk, and if I bring her home, I’ll try to stay.
After the conversation we just had, I think we both need space.
I’m warming her hands between my own when her car arrives, and then I lean down to kiss her forehead. “Until tomorrow.”
She nods and squeezes my hand. “I’ll meet you at Rockefeller Center.”
As I’m getting into my own taxi, I realize we haven’t rated any of our activities in days.
