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Her eyes are intent on me, not wanting to miss a word. I continue, “My parents’ marriage didn’t work out. I’m faced with the ugliness of divorce every day.” I glance outside before returning to her, wanting to give her what she needs to hear while being honest about my own feelings. That’s just it. I can be honest with her, and there’s no judgment. “When I think about the future, I’m not spending my life alone. I’m not opposed to marriage. I respect the institution too much to damage it with my baggage, so it’s always seemed unattainable for someone like me.”
When I see her eyes glass over, I lie down and hold my arm open wide. She snuggles against me, and I wrap my arm around her. I say, “You want to get married one day. You’ve always been a romantic while I’m a cynic.”
She shakes her head, angling it my way. “You want it to last forever. We’re alike that way. Deep down, you’re a romantic just like me, Rad.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” I lose her blues to the far wall as we explore this new territory of sharing our deepest desires and worries. “All I can do is tell you how I feel right now. I’ve never been happier, and that’s because of you. Despite what you think, the idea of being with you doesn’t scare me.”
“What scares you?”
The idea of being with anyone is new. It’s been a long time since I dabbled in having a steady girlfriend. The strength of her hold on me hasn’t lessened, the way her hands hold mine, and the way my heart holds hers.
“I was never scared to be with you. It’s the thought of living without you that scares me.”
29
Rad
I’m not sure what happened.
One minute, I’m living life like I always do, and the next, I’m one-half of a couple. I’m coupling. This is going to take some getting used to. Especially when my new girlfriend . . . Girlfriend . . . Whoa. I have a girlfriend.
Tealey sits on the bed with crossed legs, watching me choose a tie for court. She says, “Red’s nice.”
“Too aggressive for this judge.”
“Blue is calming.”
“Eh. I’m not feeling it.” Watching the ties rotate on the holder, uninspired, I release the button, and it comes to a stop. “What does green say to you?”
She stares at me, slowly blinking before she falls back on the bed, kicking her legs in the air. “I don’t know. This is exhausting. What does orange say? Purple? Yellow? Polka dot?” Propping herself up on her elbows, she says, “And here I thought facts and principles only mattered. Who knew a tie could make or break a case?”
“So burgundy then?” I grab the tie and loop it around my neck.
As if I’ve offended her, she stands with her hands on her hips. “I said red first.”
“Burgundy isn’t red. It’s deeper. Richer. It says you can trust me, and my client should win.”
Her gaze goes to my tie, and then, in disbelief, she eyes me again. “That’s what you think that tie says?”
“Sure, to this judge.”
“You pick your clothes based on the presiding judge?”
I’m lost to how she doesn’t know this. Doesn’t everybody plan their professional clothes around impressions and performance? I glance at her pants with another cat print, suddenly realizing maybe it doesn’t matter in all fields. “Nice pants.”
“Don’t mock me just because you’re absorbed by the shade of a tie in hopes it wins you the case. Next, you’re going to say the material plays a role.”
“Good point. Maybe I should go with the pure silk.”
Throwing her arms up in the air, she storms to the door. Just inside the hall, she whips back around. “For your information, these pants are the cat’s pajamas,” she says, slowly enunciating the last two words.
“I get it. They’re pajama pants.”
“No.” She huffs, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. You know, like the bee’s knees?” Staring at my blank face, she adds, “Cat’s pajamas? Oh, forget it. They’re awesome. That’s all that matters.” By seeing how bothered she is when she walks off, I start to wonder if we just had our first argument. Shit. I don’t even know what it’s about.
“Hey, Tealey?” I call, dipping my head into the hall. “So no on the burgundy?”
Her door slams closed. “Okay, I’ll go with green. That color always brings me luck.”
Before I head out, I stop by her room. Standing there, I begin to wonder how this will work exactly with her room and mine. Will we start shacking up in the same room, or will she want her space, like now? Will I want mine?
I don’t think there will be an issue for me. I’ll go where she goes, wherever she’s most comfortable. I knock. “I’m sorry.”
