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I nod. “He still struggles with opening up, but that’s not due to a lack of trust. Healing takes time.”
“My reasons aren’t about trust, either,” she tells me. “I mean, maybe they were when I made the promise to myself. But now that I’m with the three of you, that’s not it. I trust you guys with my life.”
I stroke her arm. If this is what I think it’s about, she has no need to worry. “Letting us take care of you isn’t the same as you losing yourself. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. And agreeing to it feels a lot better than what Adam and I planned together. I had to convince myself that was a good idea. But I’m safe with you three in a way I wasn’t with Adam. Financial dependence isn’t as scary.”
“But?” I ask, sensing one is coming.
She sighs. “But it’s not just about the money. It’s about who I am and what I want out of life.”
“And what do you want, princess? To be a graphic designer?” I remember her mentioning that once, although I’ve definitely seen her more excited about other things. Usually books.
“When I came up with the idea, it was because I wanted to travel. I knew I’d need a flexible job, and I have a decent artistic eye, so freelancing made sense.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know. That was the last life decision I made before I started dating Adam. And then everything shifted from there. I stopped working toward my goals, and they just fell on the back burner.”
“So graphic design was more of a means to an end than anything else.”
“I guess so. I mean, I like it. But I’m not hopelessly in love with it, either. I think I was just grasping for straws at that point.” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, anyway—at least not right now. We have more important things to focus on.”
“No. This is important, too.” I squeeze her arm. “What did you want to be when you were a kid? Not the practical stuff that people said you’d be good at. What was the secret dream in the back of your head that never really went away?”
She grimaces. “My dreams were naive.”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
She narrows her eyes at me before nodding. “You first.”
I grin. “From the ages of eight to twelve, I was determined to be an ice cream taste tester. From there through most of high school, I wanted to be a concert pianist. Was good enough, too.”
“Really?”
“Yep. That’s how I got the scholarship to go to such a nice school. My grades were never great, though. No clue how I managed to keep it.”
“Wait. If you wanted to be a concert pianist, then what happened?”
“Anxiety.” My face falls. “Any time I had a recital or performance, I’d have panic attacks for weeks leading up to it. It made me so miserable, and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life like that. I’m pretty sure I’d be able to handle it now, but back then, I just couldn’t.”
Wren’s expression softens with sympathy. “Do you think you’ll start performing again once everything is done with Ludo?”
“Maybe. I’ve thought about opening my own studio and teaching kids to play. I got lucky, you know? My mom worked so hard to make sure we had a piano in the house, and getting that scholarship was a one in fifty chance.
“There are lots of kids who don’t even have consistent access to a piano. I’ve always thought it could be nice to change that. Maybe I’d be able to teach for really low prices, or even for free.”
“That could be really nice,” Wren says. “Much more helpful than ice cream taste testing.”
With a chuckle, I kiss the top of her head. “Eight-year-old me would be severely disappointed in my life choices. But enough about that. It’s your turn.” I nudge her gently.
She groans and buries her face in my chest. “I was hoping you’d forget.”
“Never. Spit it out, princess.”
When she pulls away so I can see her, she’s frowning. “I promise that books aren’t my only personality trait.”
I smile. “I know.”
