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Jealousy roars to life inside my gut. “He’s an idiot. If your needs turn him off, he never deserved you in the first place.”
Her turn to frown. “You’re not wrong. I guess I just try too hard to play it cool and be low maintenance. But you know what? I’m realizing that trying so hard to make everyone else happy, to be perfect and good and cool, makes me... kind of miserable? Sometimes I feel like I’m performing life, not actually living it. Like I’m sleepwalking through everything.”
That’sa truth I wasn’t expecting.
It’s also what I absolutely do not need to hear: that beinggoodis getting old for Jen, and she might be in the mood to try something—someone—decidedly not good.
Someone bad, like me. Becausebadis what I have on offer, and she knows this.
She fucking knows this, and she’s still throwing these words in my face.
Here’s the thing, I want to say back to her.You say you’re bored with good, but I don’t think you’re built for bad.
“You believe I’m not?” I say instead. “Performing?”
Jen glances around the kitchen. “At least you’reyou. That counts for something.”
She’s not wrong. I’m content enough with my life. Figuring out the money piece of the puzzle was huge. Not having to worry about that, being able to buy shit I love, doesn’t suck. I won’t ever be a burden to the people I care about. I’ll never be broke the way Dad was.
I do what I want, when I want. Freedom is a beautiful thing. My job is demanding, but it allows me to be creative and use my design skills. Most days I enjoy being at work.
Most days, it’s better than being alone.
But I’m not going there tonight, so I drop the thought and pick up my glass of soda. “What kind of ring do you want?”
“A ring? You don’t have to get me a ring.” Jen’s knee brushes my thigh when she sits back down on her stool. A sudden, vicious desire to take this girl to bed and fuck theweariness out of her grips me by the throat. “I’ll just get a fake one on Amazon or something.”
I bite down on my cheek. Hard. “My wife isn’t wearing a fake ring.”
“Yourfakewife.”
“Let me handle the ring.”
“Please don’t get me a real one.”
“Fine.” I smile. “I won’t get you a real one.”
“Liar.”
“You just said I’m not a good guy.”
Jen searches my face. “I said you don’t try to be someone you’re not. And while you’re not all good, you’re not all bad either. No one is.”
The earnest look in her green eyes sends my pulse skidding.
This.
Thisis why I can’t spend too much time with this girl. She makes me believe, even for a minute, a second, that I might not be doomed. That there’s a chance I won’t repeat the toxic patterns mapped out in my blood.
I get up, even though the timer still has four minutes left, and I open the oven to check on dinner. “Smells good.”
“You are not as smooth at changing the subject as you think.”
“Just trying to stay on topic. We’re about to get fake married. I want to make sure we have all our bases covered. What did we miss?”
I grab an oven mitt and take the tray out of the oven.
“Probably a lot.” Jen’s stool grunts as she stands and rounds the island. “What can I help with?”
