Page 16 of Between Love & Ruin

“What’s up?” he asks, his hands carefully secured at my waist as he keeps his eyes on the TV.

“I had a meeting with Aisha right now, and remember Dominic Wolfe?”

“What about him?”

“He wants movie rights for my book ‘A Tide of Love’, the one that he was apparently reading. Isn’t that amazing?”

He pulls back from me, and I smile up at him. I know this burst of affection might have been sudden for him. Because for me it is. I don’t normally run up to him and hug him, but I am too happy to care right now.

He looks at me in confusion, and I tilt my head to get a better idea of why he is looking at me like that.

“Why would he want that?”

My smile drops, and I try to make sense of what he means by that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, isn’t it a little fishy? He reads your book once, and suddenly his company wants the film rights? Are you sure this isn’t some prank or a mistake?”

I slide off his lap, the excitement instantly draining out of me. Did he really have to ruin this moment?

“It’s not a prank. Things like this happen to authors, and my book happens to be good enough. Do you actually think my work isn’t worth it?”

“No,” he says, and that doesn’t come out as convincing as he wanted it to be. “I am just…confused because it was all so sudden. But if you are so sure about it, I am happy for you.”

He leans down to kiss my cheek, and all of a sudden I feel like pushing him away.

Fuck him for ruining my mood.

I don’t act on instinct and push him away because with how things are going between us, I think he will end up pushing me away anyway.

Dominic Wolfe

There are three things about me that are, in equal measure, both my greatest strengths and my biggest weaknesses.

One of them is my obsessive nature. Growing up, I had a tendency to become completely obsessed with the most random things. For instance, throughout my childhood, I was obsessed with this one Play-Doh set. It might seem like a small thing, but for a boy, it was admittedly strange to be so fixated on something like that for years, all the way until I was eleven.

I refused to indulge in any other activities to the point where my entire house was filled with nothing but Play-Doh. No other toys, no other interests. I simply couldn’t let it go.

That obsession lasted until I turned eleven, when I lost my parents in a car accident.It was after that I let go of my silly obsession because I was told that I needed to grow up. I never looked at that set after that one day, and my house was emptied of everything that could possibly symbolize my childhood and innocence.

After that, I was obsessed with my education to the point that I had no friend circle. I wouldn’t say that I was a nerd, but it was just that I wanted to finish up my schooling as soon as I could so I could join my grandfather in our family business. That man was annoying but so admirable it was painful. And he had already done a lot for me, and as stupid and egoistic as it may sound, I wanted him to not help me.

That’s the unspoken curse attached to the ‘Wolfe’ name. We don’t ask for help, and we sure as hell don’t owe anybody anything. That was the primary lesson my grandfather drilled into my head.

I used to think that my obsession with things was what made me a good businessman, what made me excel in this cutthroat industry. Because in the entertainment industry, more than passion, you need the discipline and obsession, and I had that at birth.

So, it was my best trait in that aspect.

But when I struggle at letting go of things that aren’t that relevant in the greater scheme of things and have zero to no benefit, I start to think otherwise.

Because there’s no reason for me to be obsessed with this book and this author as much as I am becoming.

Myra calls it an obsession, but what pisses me off isn’t the label—it’s the fact that I can’t rationalize it. I have no logical explanation for why this book and its author have taken such a tight hold of my mind.

For the past week, I have been obsessively reading this book and about Sienna Hayes. And the more I get to know, the more I keep getting wrapped up with her.

And the book. It’s all about the book, isn’t it?