“It’s true!” I replied, clasping his hands. “It’s true, Reece. You didn’t give me time—”
“Six months, Bailey! Six!” he shouted. “You don’t go from having what we had to six months of nothing!”
He ripped his hands from mine and jumped up from the couch. I readied myself for the words—the ones he never got to say when I broke it off. I was both confused and not. I deserved his harsh words, but I was confused by the ad campaign. Did he want me, or did he want to teach me a lesson? If he wrote the campaign as a cruel joke, I would never recover from it. My fragile heart couldn’t take one more beating. His angry words? Yes. As long as he loved me after he said them.
“You made me feel like I was nothing!” he went on. “Discarded and used. Like a goddamn foster kid!”
I wept openly. I knew these were all the things he wished he could shout at me the moment I threw him out. But a stunning blow doesn’t allow you to process anything but confusion. Pride and anger come along afterward, and for most, it’s too late to say the things we wished we could. Too late and not worth the effort.
“I didn’t mean to,” I cried.
“I knew you, Bailey. I understood your problems. And I wanted to help you through them. I knew it would be tough, but you never let me try. You never gave me the choice. I wanted you. Always. And you wouldn’t let me choose you.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“You’re selfish,” he spat. “You shared yourself when it was convenient for you. When it felt good for you. When you enjoyed it. But then you pushed me away when things got rough.”
“I didn’t want to be a burden,” I cried. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with me. I know how I am. I know I’m impossible. I can’t expect someone to handle that.”
“That was NEVER your choice to make!” he roared. “Why don’t you understand that?”
“I wanted to save you the heartache,” I replied. “I wanted you to be with someone who was normal. Someone you wouldn’t have to manage.”
“Why don’t you get it?” he asked. He pulled me from the couch forcefully and placed his hands on my head. He pressed his fingers hard against my scalp. “How do I make your brain understand?”
One, two, three, four . . . I counted because I was frightened. He increased the pressure, and I didn’t know if it hurt or felt incredible.
“How do I open your brain and rewire it, huh?” His words were low and heavy. Ominous. “How do I rewire it to make you trust me? Accept me?”
“I do accept you,” I whimpered.
“Then why won’t you let me love you?” he asked. “Why won’t you let me be with you? I choose to be with you.”
I sniffed and wiped my nose.
“I choose. But you want to take the choice away from me,” he said. He dropped his hands. I dropped my face. “Look at me,” he demanded.
“I can’t, Reece,” I said. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I’m afraid you won’t look at me the way you used to,” I said.
“You don’t know unless you look at me,” he replied.
I paused a half-second before lifting my eyes to him. His face relaxed. Jaw no longer set. Eyes softened. Inviting, even. And I saw it—the love that had never left. It was buried deep inside his eyes, but I could see it flickering from afar, signaling a will to fight.
For me.
I wouldn’t let him. This was my battle. I had to be the hero. I had to be the one to rescue because I was the one who discarded.
“Marry me,” I said.
His eyes went wide.
“Marry me, Reece.”
“I’m supposed to—”
“No. I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to ask you. I should have gone to you. I shouldn’t have waited six months. I shouldn’t have waited a day. I should have gone to you the moment you walked out my door. I should have gone to you and clung to you.” I took his hand. He didn’t resist. “I spent many years convincing myself that I wasn’t deserving of love—that I was a problem that couldn’t be fixed. Who could possibly want me?”
“I wanted you,” he said. “I still do.”
“And I knew that. But the devil in me kept feeding me lies. Telling me you’d leave me. Telling me I’d mess it all up. I thought to save us the trouble and just break up with you. Let you find someone better.”
Reece crushed me to his chest and sucked in a ragged breath. “Jesus, Bailey. Don’t you know by now that there isn’t anyone better than you?”
I mumbled something incoherent against his shirt.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You adopted me, for Christ’s sake! Remember?”
I thought back to that conversation in the office parking lot. I’d made what I thought was a sweet and clever statement, then feared I’d offended him: “I’m adopting you.” I’d never seen that look on Reece’s face. It was confusion, at first. Or maybe just his “I’m trying to process this” look. For a moment I thought I’d said something insensitive. But then his look changed. His eyes lit up. Clarity and pure joy. It was the look of a little boy who heard for the first time in his life that he was loved. That he was wanted.
It turned out to be one of the happiest days of my life.
“I remember,” I said.
He pulled me away from him and looked down at my face.
“I want you to adopt me again,” he said. “And this time, you’re not allowed to let me go.”
“Never,” I cried. “I’ll never let you go. Marry me, Reece. Please marry me.”
He considered the desperate look on my face.
“I came here to propose to you,” he said finally.
I smiled.