Page 92 of The Cost of Love

I don’t. So why did I bring her? Did I really think I was going to fall in love with someone who does? Did I really think her being there would change that? I’m so twisted up in who I’m supposed to be that even when I am faced with someone who wants me as I am, I still try to force them into that molded world.

When I think about my life with her, it’s not going to these events multiple times a week. It’s not introducing her to business associates and their wives over dinner. It’s having furniture that is more suited for the people who live here than the ones who are going to visit. It’s about late nights at food trucks, laughing about mundane things. I have everything I have ever wanted at the tip of my fingers, but I can’t grasp it. There might not be enough room for me to hold on to that life and the one I’m supposed to live. Because no matter how I feel, these events are a requirement.

“I have to go to them. It’s a portion of my responsibilities.”

“Yes, but you don’t want those responsibilities.”

I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the ends. “You don’t get it,” I say, stepping back, creating the space that I hate.

“Oh, I get it, believe me. I know you were forced into this role by your parents. I know you had to take on these responsibilities you didn’t ask for. And above all else, you had to give up your dreams for your family. We may not live the same life, but our stories are very similar. The only difference is I chose this, and I would do it time and time again. It fits me. But love, you don’t have to wear a life that someone else picked out for you.”

She makes it sound so easy because she does understand. She has lived this struggle with greater consequences. But she wants this. She chose this for herself out of love. Other than some distorted sense of loyalty to my grandfather, I don’t know why I keep picking to stay in this. I don’t know how to unravel myself from the strings that have been tied to me since I was born.

I plop down and press my face into my hands. Breathing through the small gaps between my fingers, I try to regain control. Her hands smooth over my head and land on my neck. She rests there, kneeling in front of me.

When I look up, we are eye to eye, and I see so much in them. She shows me that she is one of the few people who want what’s best for me.

“Are we okay?’ I ask needing at least that for now.

“Yes. But I won’t be doing that again. I’m not me when I’m there.”

I don’t want her to be anything but the woman I fell in love with.

“You don’t ever have to go again. I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do.” I press my forehead against hers.

“I wish you could promise yourself the same,” she says and then stands up. She offers me a hand and leads me to the bedroom I have been dying to see. There, we fill the hole that the other night had dug up. Entering her, I pour into her all the promises I can make, and she squeezes around me, letting me know that she won’t let go. No matter what transpires, it’s us. It will always be us. And that makes that empty place fuller than it was before.

Chapter 35

Chanice

Even after the conversation with Alex, I can’t help but replay that night as I stare at his sleeping form. From the moment I stepped into that room, I felt like I didn’t belong. I didn’t need his mother to tell me. Her vile words and reaction to my existence were like a solidifier of all of my worst fears. How does someone like me become his wife?

I know we fit. The broken pieces from our childhood come together to make us whole. We click into place, everywhere but in this part of his life. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t force me into it. So how can I possibly be the woman on his arm?

Maybe I have to come to terms with the fact that I’m not ever going to look like I belong there. But I belong in his home, in his heart, and in the pieces of him that make up who he really is, and for now that may have to be enough.

Still, this other stuff is something that is a part of him, too. It’s his world outside of the people he loves. I just wish I could simplify his life, like he has done for me.

I sigh and run a hand down his jaw and caress his bottom lip with my thumb. It’s like I need to feel him to know he is really mine.

Leaning forward, I kiss the tip of his nose before trailing my lips down and pressing them against his. That gets him to stir.

“Morning,” he mumbles, a yawn peeling out at the very end.

“Good morning.” I kiss him again, and then rest my head on his chest.

It’s the first time I’ve had him sleep over, and greedily, I soak in cuddling with him, not ever wanting him to leave my bed.

“Are the kids up?” he asks, running his fingers up and down my back.

“Yes, they’re entertaining themselves.” With only one job now, I have plenty of time to spend with them, it’s fine for me to give him this day in bed. Plus, I need to check in with him.

“Hey,” I say, lifting up to look into his eyes. “Did you want to talk about what happened between you and your mum?”

He sighs and rubs his hand up and down his face. “Honestly, I don’t even really know what happened. One moment, I was ready to completely cut her off. I was so pissed. Then with two sentences, it was like she dismantled everything I thought.”

I ask him what they were, and he explains the whole conversation. When he’s done, he sighs again and stares up at the ceiling.