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"You what?" She coughed.
"Don't be so dirty. I'm saying you're right. I have my own little Dr. Phil episode going on inside my tortured soul. But I'll share it with you if and only if you'll share your Oprah Special of a life with me." He shrugged. Like he was asking about the weather instead of, say, her innermost secrets.
"Are you crazy?'
"No, just curious."
"I don't see why. And why do you think I'd be curious about you?"
"Because you are." He spoke with so much certainty that she didn't have it in her to argue. That and, of course, he was right.
She hated it, didn't understand it, resented it, but there it was: the truth. She wanted to know more about him. But enough to tell him all about her?
That was a hefty bargain. Even bigger than the one he’d wanted before.
In truth, she might have slept with him a million times if only to avoid telling him—or anyone else--this.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me.” She hedged, but the ice in his eyes had melted into a cool, understanding blue. He was listening. Really listening. Interested.
And for the life of her she couldn’t decide whether that made it better or worse. Yet, even if she tried to argue with herself, she knew her decision had been made.
"You have to promise not to judge me," she said and he held up his hands in a show of innocence.
"No judgment here."
"And you can't tell anyone at work. Including Eliza. And Garret. And Rachael."
"Deal."
"And--"
"Natalie. The longer you post-pone this, the more nervous you're going to be. "
He was right. She just had to rip the words out. Like tiny band-aids on a series of paper cuts covering her boy. She cleared her throat.
Best to start at the beginning. With Jimmy. And with Dad.
"Well, I was married twice."
Brooks nodded. "I know."
"And you know I'm twenty eight."
"An impressive track record." He smiled, and though she didn’t want to, she grinned back.
"What happened to know judgment?"
"Hey, if anything it's a compliment."
"Okay, well, my first husband was a guy I'd met in high school. I'd grown up with my dad and he wasn't terribly interested in raising me."
"I'm sorry--"
She held up a hand. She didn’t want the pity or the apologies. They made it all so much worse. "Hey, this isn't a sob story. It's just a story and that's just th
e truth. It's fine. Anyway, I needed to get out of my town and I was stupid and, well, one thing led to another and I was married. He was a musician, see, so we traveled a lot."
"That explains the pictures."
