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“So, we cut the cord while we can.” Ella drew her hand from his and forced a smile, but her insides burned raw, as raw as if she’d scraped something sharp.
“Do you have a better solution?”
“We go with it. We try it. We see how we feel.”
He sighed. “Where’s the logic in that?”
“Love isn’t logical, but it’s real, and its important and it shouldn’t be thrown away just because we might want different things in the future. The future isn’t here. The future you’re afraid of might never come.”
“And what future would that be?” he asked, getting off his stool to go lean against a counter, arms folded across his chest.
“It’s just so… obvious… you’re operating from a place of fear, not confidence. If you were confident, Baird, you wouldn’t need to be afraid of relationships, or falling in love.”
“I’m not afraid of falling in love.”
“You’re afraid of being hurt, of being left, and so you end things before others can, because you expect to be hurt—”
“I’ve never been hurt,” he interrupted. “Fi never hurt me. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. It wasn’t dramatic. It certainly wasn’t loud or unpredictable. We were very close.”
“Then how could you possibly let her go?” Ella looked at him, expression fierce. “Either you didn’t love her deeply, or you were afraid to risk loving her more, and so rather than marry and truly commit, you let her go.”
He growled impatiently. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re earning a PhD in eighteenth-century literature, not psychology. I’ve never been crushed by a relationship, nor have I had my heart broken. I’m glad you find me so fascinating, but your theories aren’t based in reality.”
“In that case, I feel better. I’m glad you weren’t hurt, because it sucks. It feels awful. And I’m glad you’re not using all the divorce cases you handle as reinforcement. I’m glad that every time you feel strongly, you don’t remind yourself that love becomes a weapon, and you protect yourself from that danger by not falling in love and not letting others get too close to you.”
His brow furrowed deeply. “I’m glad you are glad.,” he said grimly.
“Me, too. I’m glad you come from a family without divorces. I’m glad I come from a family without divorces. I’m glad you have proof that not everyone ends up divorced and cruelly fighting over assets and children. I’m glad you also know you use excuses to protect yourself, no matter how much it hurts others. As long as you’re not having to take any risks or expose yourself to pain, you’re in good shape.”
“I’ve never liked your sarcasm. Have I told you that before?”
“A couple times.”
He pushed off from the counter. “I think it’s time we said good night and goodbye before this turns ugly.
Ella slid off her stool, hands on her hips, blocking his path. “It’s already ugly, Baird. I’m livid. Livid with you.”
“I know you’re disappointed—”
“Yes. Disappointed, furious, heartbroken, disgusted. You show up for everyone but you. You put everyone else’s needs before your own—”
“That’s not true. We’ve just established I’m selfish and putting my needs first.”
“You aren’t selfish. You are always there for Alec. You are there for your family—you drove home at midnight on Christmas Eve for your Aunt Kate. You are there for your firm, you are there for your clients, but when are you there for yourself?”
He tried to step around her, but Ella just blocked him again.
“How am I not there for myself?”
“You’ve created a lot of rules about love and commitment, rules for your future, and these rules are to protect you, so you don’t get hurt, and you don’t have to take risks, rules that ultimately give you the upper hand in relationships. In short, you work very hard to maintain control, but the control means you don’t get to really feel. Or love. Or be loved in return.”
Baird was not smiling. “You’re upset because I’ve decided not to pursue a relationship with you.”
“Because it’s the easiest thing to do. It’s easy walking away from people. The hard thing is sticking around and showing up and learning how to make love and life work. You and I could make it work, but it’s a choice, and it’s a choice we’d have to make every day.”
He said nothing, his expression shuttered closed.
“By the way,” she added, taking a step toward him and pointing a finger at his chest, “I looked up UK divorce statistics and Scotland has a lower divorce rate than England, and it crossed my mind that the divorces you handle, those divorces which had made such a big impression on you, aren’t the norm but more representative of the very wealthy who love and protect their things more than other people.” Her chin jerked up. “Maybe the ugliness is due more to a personality type than the population in general.”
