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"It's not a gift! It's survival. I'm good at understanding people, because it's safer that way. I learned really early how to read people's moods and motivations, so I could make them happy."
His cheek twitches. “Why was it your job to make them happy?"
"Because if they're happy, they'll leave me alone."
His face hardens. "You mean your brother and father will leave you alone?"
I shrug and face the railing again. "Them. The mean kids at school. My teachers. Everyone needed me to be something different. I got good at being what people wanted me to be. Doesn't make me smart. It just makes me a survivor."
Jonas's gaze burns into the side of my face like a laser. Gathering my bravery, knowing that this will be over soon, I turn to face him. I suck in a breath at the humor I see in his face. I wasn't expecting that. At all.
"Let me make sure I have this right. You believe that you are stupid sometimes. And that the area you excel in, interpersonal skills, has only developed because you had a difficult childhood?"
A little crushed by the laughter, I straighten my spine and nod. A rumbled chuckle escapes him, then another. Soon, he's bent over, howling with laughter. Eyes wet, I stare into the penthouse. Micah and Kade seem to be fighting over a bowl of yams. Everyone else is smiling, laughing, and completely at ease. Even Maya, the newest to this big crowd, seems comfortable.
Jonas's laughter tapers off, and he straightens with a sigh. He freezes when he gets a look at my face. "I'm sorry."
I smile, the fakest smile in the history of smiles. I'm not capable of more. "It's fine."
His gaze sharpens. "No, it's not fine. I hurt you, and instead of calling me out, you're brushing over it. Is this what you mean by keeping people happy?"
I shrug. It's my turn to grip the railing. This conversation is not going the way I thought it would.
"That sounds like a shitty way to live your life."
"I guess so." I try not to ask — I should let it go — but I just can't. "Why is that so funny to you?" His laughter hurts deeply, and I can't bring myself to pretend that it doesn't. I’m too raw.
He reaches out and gently tugs at the end of my hair. "I wasn't laughing at you." He winces, and gives me a wry smile. "Okay, I was. But Janey, do you not understand how funny that is? I hate to break it to you, but every man in there, including me, developed their skills through crappy childhoods. Ransom learned to win because it was win-or-die, literally. Nick can sweet talk anyone, because that's how he made sure he and his Abuelita were fed when he was little. Maverick went into law, because he was always looking for angles and loopholes when we were kids, trying to make Ransom's plans work. Zach learned to be charming because he was always smoothing over stuff that I did, trying to convince foster parents to let us stay. Kade is the most loyal, generous man you'll ever meet, but he got that way by sacrificing over and over again for his addicted mother."
He turns, looking in at his family, a small smile on his lips. "I liked numbers when I was younger, but I liked a lot of other things too. But it became clear to me that my skill with numbers was the one my brothers needed the most. Ransom had so many ideas, but making them a reality required a lot more cash than he could make at the poker table. So I became the finance guy. We all adapted. We became who we needed to be. Does that invalidate those skills? Because according to the logic you applied to your own life, it does. We learned those skills to survive, so they don't count, right?"
I step up to the windows, and stare in at his family. "It sounds dumb when you put it like that,” I mumble.
Jonas turns to me and cups my shoulders. "Because it is dumb," he says with absolute sincerity, startling a laugh out of me. "Everything we are is a product of where we've come from. Our parents, our environments all combine to make us who we are. You wouldn't be the woman you are today without your past."
"I don't know if I like the woman I am today."
He opens his mouth as if he wants to tell me I'm wrong again. He snaps it shut and takes a few breaths. "What don't you like about yourself?" he asks very deliberately.
"I wish I wasn't a doormat."
Jonas's eyes jump to the concrete floor of the patio, and the mat next to the door. He shakes his head, frowns, and focuses back on me. "How are you a doormat? I'm assuming you don't actually let people wipe their feet on you?"
"Not actually, no. But I always go along with whatever everyone else wants. I always have. It's just easier that way. I always give in, instead of fighting for what I think is right."
"Give in," he echoes. He lets go of my shoulders, and taps his fingers on his thigh. "Like when I asked you to marry me?"
“Well...no." Everyone was giving me an out. No one wanted us to marry. But I didn’t listen.
"Then where are you giving in with me? I don't see it, and I would like to."
I stare at him blankly, and mentally play back the last few days. "I gave in at the jewelers, but we talked about that," I say slowly. I honestly can't think of anything else. "It's only been a few days."
His sigh is long, and loud. He props his hands on his lean hips, making his shoulders seem even broader. "I am very confused, Janey. You say you are a doormat, yet you are not one with me. You say you are falling for me, so we should get an annulment. Can you please explain what the problem is?"
"If we stay married, then I will fall in love with you. And I'll relax and show you exactly who I am. And when you truly get to know me, you'll decide you made a mistake and want to leave."
Do you have some secret you're hiding from me?" he asks, scowling.
