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“We'll meet back here later.”
* * *
They satin the living room, using the coffee table and eating straight from the cartons, feeling no need to bother with plates. Will had cracked a bottle of red wine and turned on some music, and they sat next to each other on the floor, their backs against the couch. They ate at a leisurely pace, not ready to settle into serious conversation quite yet.
When she was finished, Elizabeth sat back and sighed. “That was delicious. I can’t believe I ate so much.”
“We were hungry. We worked up an appetite.”
She grinned. “I guess we did.”
He surprised her by leaning in to kiss her thoroughly, his hands sliding up into her hair to hold her head. It was a kiss full of desire and promise.
“I'm having you for dessert later.You. Taste. Delicious,” he said, punctuating each word with a nibble along her throat, making her shudder.
The cartons of leftovers were put away and the wine glasses washed before they returned to his bedroom, both wanting to shower before settling into bed. He suggested showering together, but she knew it would only lead to another delay in their conversation. As it was, she was having a hard time not throwing herself at him again as he walked around shirtless in his sweatpants, which rode obscenely low on his hips.
After their showers they snuggled in bed, watching the Red Sox game with the volume muted. The glow from the television was the only light in the room, lending to a feeling of intimacy, and when he remained silent she waited patiently, holding his hand and stroking his fingers, letting him organize his thoughts.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “It’s funny. I was tempted to drag out my journal and just give it to you. It would probably be the easiest way for you to learn about everything spiraling through my head.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You have a journal?”
He nodded. “Therapist’s orders.Write it all down. Weirdly, I feel like it helps. I can write anything I want, and it allows me to verbalize things, in a way.”
“Do you think therapy is helping?”
He nodded. “I wish I’d done it sooner, before…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Maybe things wouldn’t have happened the way they did.”
“You can’t go back and change anything.”
“I know. And I know that wishing I could won’t help me move forward.” He paused. “It's not like I have some great secret to tell you, it's just that I didn't want distractions, which is why I wanted to wait until after the wedding to talk.”
“I know that.”
He sighed. “I feel like I’ve managed to sort some things in my head, but I still have a long way to go. I’m a work in progress, and this won’t be a quick fix. But so much of my behavior is tied to my parents. Mostly to my father.”
“Like what?”
“My fear of failure. My inability to trust. They’re tangled together, and they’re buried deep. Every choice I make, whether it's a business decision, or something to do with Georgie, or something to do with my personal life… I've always had this voice in my head asking what my father would think, what he would do.”
“And how have you answered that question?”
He shrugged. “It depends on the situation. I swore I’d look after Georgie; I promised my mother before she died. My father passed so suddenly… I wasn’t able to tell him that I would take care of her, but I stood at his grave and promised I would.”
“And you have, remarkably well,” she said softly.
“But it was hard not to feel like Ididn'tdo my job as her protector. I felt like I failed. I let my parents down.” He paused. “I was always the ideal son; Iknowthat I was. I heard them say it when they would talk about me to their friends—‘He never gets into trouble. Great grades. Talented. Good head on his shoulders.’ You hear that often enough, you start to believe it. I had an image of myself, one formed by my parents, but all this time, it fed into this fear of failing and letting people down. Lettingthemdown.
“That business with Richard… My reaction was based entirely on speculation of whatcouldhappen if Lauren turned out to be a money-hungry woman who could potentially wreak havoc on RJD. I already told you, I catastrophize. In my head, Richard dating his assistant automatically meant she was going to sue us for sexual harassment and the company would be doomed. And to me, that would have been my fault. My failure.”
She sat up and turned to him. “But Richard was responsible for putting Lauren in a position that he shouldn't have. He hid it from you, which is proof enough that he knew he was doing wrong. If something had happened,hewould have been responsible for it, not you.”
“Possibly.”
She sighed in frustration. “Not possibly, definitely.”
He grinned softly. “You're getting defensive for me, and I appreciate it, but you don't have to. But now you can see, at least a little bit, how this has all been messed up in my head.”
