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“You didn’t offend me. And what the hell kind of man do you take me for? You really think I’m the kind of person who would throw you out for something so petty?”
I stare up at him, anxious and jittery and utterly bewildered. The truth is that’s exactly what I was afraid of, but evidently he finds the assumption deeply insulting.
“You did think that. You came back down to mend fences so I wouldn’t send you away. Damn it all to hell. You really thought that about me?”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Swallow hard. Admit, “I didn’t know.”
“You should have known. You should know I’m not—”
“Why should I know?” I burst out. “It’s not like I really know you.”
“Of course you know—”
“I’ve known of you for a long time, but I’ve never known you well. You were my dad’s friend. Not mine. And we both know my dad had no particular hang-ups over morality, either in himself or in other people. Why would I know the kind of man you are?”
That throws him off guard. He blinks and glances away, visibly thinking through what I said.
“Some men are driven by ego. Some men hold a grudge. And others don’t want to waste their time with people who don’t make them feel good about themselves. You could have been one of those. In any of those cases, you would have wanted me gone. I... I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I don’t have any resources. I’ve got to be careful.”
“I see.” His expression is finally softening. “I understand. So hear me now. No matter what you say to me, I’m never going to throw you out. You can stay here as long as you want. As long as you need to. Even after the library is cataloged. If you feel like you need to work, I can find another job for you to do. I don’t want fear of being kicked out to be a factor in how you act toward me. I don’t like to be mollified, and I’ve never been charmed in my life.”
I’m relieved. No question. Maybe that explains why I giggle. “That I can believe.”
“I’m sure. So take that worry off the table. You can say what you want.”
“Thank you. For being clear on that. It... helps. It makes me feel better. Safer.” I clear my throat as I sit down in the second side chair near the desk. “But I am sorry about being snippy.”
“You’re the least snippy person I’ve ever met.” He sits down too, his mouth softened like he’s tempted to smile. “But I’d rather you be snippy than be...”
“Be what?”
“Empty. Fake. I’m sure a lot of men fall for it and see nothing but your big eyes and soft lips, but I can recognize the emptiness, and it bothers me. I’d much rather you be yourself even if you’re in a bad mood.”
His matter-of-fact assessment of my eyes and lips makes my cheeks warm, but there’s a different kind of flutter in my chest prompted by the core of what he’s saying. “Okay. As long as you’ll... you’ll do me the same courtesy and be real instead of always cool and smart.”
“So you think I’m not really smart?”
It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s actually teasing. There’s the slightest glint in his eyes. “Of course you’re smart. I’ve never known anyone smarter. But you’re more than that, and you don’t like to act that way. If you can demand it of me, then I can demand it of you.”
“Fair enough.” He leans back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing and his mouth twitching up just slightly. “I guess we’re more alike than we realized. Who would have thought?”
“I don’t think we’re that much alike.”
“Not on the surface. But I think we’ve both learned not to trust other people, so we hide who we really are.”
“I’m not that untrusting.”
“Aren’t you? Your first assumption was that I was an asshole, and I hope I’ve never given you any reason to assume that about me.”
“No. You’ve always been good to me. And my dad. But I...” With a shrug, I admit the truth, to myself as much as him. “I guess I don’t really trust most people. Not in the way that matters. Not so I can really be myself with them.”
“Your dad had a lot of good points, and I cared about him. But he did a real number on you. When I think about that, I deeply want to punch him.”
I exhale a soft huff. “Yeah. I feel that way a lot too. With my dad, it’s hard. Because there’s so much about him to love and so much about him to hate. He did make it hard for me to trust people and to feel like life can be... stable. Solid. But it’s not all my dad’s fault. Part of it is just me.” I pause briefly, then hear myself asking, “What made you the way you are?”
Arthur looks at me a long time. A piece of hair is hanging into his face, brushing lightly against his cheekbone. I really want to smooth it back. “A lot of things.”
That’s a nonanswer, but we aren’t friends. He has no reason to share the most intimate parts of his life with me.
