A mother? I look up and his face resonates hurt as if he’s recalling the day he found out. The relationship they shared must have been powerful for her to forsake her family.
He releases his neck and looks down at me on the bed. His hand bangs on his chest in a dramatic gesture. “This is me, Emma. Yes, there were women before you. If I knew you existed I never would have been with any of them. I’m a grown man. You can’t fault me for having a past. And you certainly can’t fault me for thinking I was in love with someone. If that’s how you are going to react then you might as well leave me right now. Why wait until later?”
His eyes are ablaze, widening with his words. I have never seen him be more serious about something in the five months I’ve known him. He is like Jekyll and Hyde with his emotions. One moment he’s saying he wants everything with me, and the next he’s ready to call it off. His trust issues are deeper than I thought, which makes me realize they’re not trust issues . . . they’re abandonment issues.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re right. I just . . . this is difficult for me. I can’t control your past and it’s hard for me to deal with.”
His body relaxes a bit with my words. We’re both adults yet we have a lot of growing up to do when it comes to relationships.
“I’m a grown man. I have a past. You are going to have to learn how to deal.”
I sit up on my knees and bring myself to his level. “And you’re going to have to learn how to trust I’m not going to leave you just because I don’t like a decision you made before you met me.”
Alexander nods his head and seems to accept my words. He has to learn how to trust that I won’t leave him. I pull him down back onto the bed and lie down with him, resuming our previous position. I had an easy, uncomplicated relationship with Parker for four years, and I’m glad it’s over. Here, I’ve had the most heartrending five months with a man so complex I may never truly break through.
And if it ends, I’ll be devastated.
The past two weeks have been amazing. Alexander, as I have become accustomed to calling him, has spent every day at my apartment and we settle into a little routine. Since my shower is too small for the two of us, he showers first and then I hop in. It works for me because I discovered a little secret about Alexander Asher: he sings in the shower. Turns out he’s a Bruno Mars fan. I found that very surprising.
Devon dropped off a small arsenal of suits and loafers. I placed them all in my small closet and wondered how we will make my small space work for the two of us. Alex goes to his fancy job uptown bright and early as I casually make my way into the school around the corner. Around three o’clock he arrives to teach his classes and then leaves at five to head back uptown.
When I get out of school at seven-thirty, he is outside the door waiting to walk me home.
He likes to eat out so we go to fancy dinners that are more than I am used to. I am no stranger to a five-star restaurant but a Michelin-grade private room on a Tuesday night is a lot, even for me.
Last night I asked him if we could go somewhere a little more laid back. When he asked what kinds of things we did back in Cedar Ridge, I said, “Bowling”—thinking he’d laugh at me. Instead, he obliged and as soon as we stepped into Lucky Strike, I knew why it was so easy for him to amend.
Lucky Strike is a bowling alley on crack. No, not crack. High-potency cocaine. The place looks like an exquisite nightclub with mood lighting, a DJ, a bar that rivals most high-end restaurants, and giant screens everywhere. He reserved a private room—yes, a private bowling alley room, just for us. We even had our own waitress. I just shook my head at the largess and vowed to figure out some way to get this guy to be a little more down to earth.