“And honestly,” he added, “she really helped me focus on my career goals and catch a vision of what I could accomplish.”
I pulled my hand away from him. I was feeling more and more like a loser. Like I said, our offspring would be the kid licking the finger paints and eating Play-Doh. “I’m happy she helped you reach your goals.”
He took my hand right back. “Please don’t take that the wrong way. I may have been making more money than I’d hoped, but I wasn’t happy.”
“Are you now?”
He tucked some of my hair behind my ear. “Always, when I’m with you.”
“Why?”
He played with some tendrils of my hair, which drove me wild. Did he have any idea how wonderful he made me feel inside and out?
“Ariana, I don’t know how to explain it other than when I’m with you, I feel like anything is possible. I remember the first night I met you at that hole-in-the-wall Mexican place Dani and Brock love.”
I did too. I thought about it every day.
“You,” he continued, “were unimpressed that I was a med student.”
I laughed, remembering how I’d rolled my eyes when we were introduced.
“You sealed our fate there. I was determined to make you like me.” He paused. “But I had no idea how much I would come to like you. That night, I knew I was in trouble when our server informed us they had run out of sopapillas, and while everyone else was getting bent out of shape that a Mexican restaurant would ever run out of sopapillas, you suggested we go to your place and make them.”
“Everyone else thought it was too much of a bother, except you,” I said.
He wagged his brows. “I was no idiot. I wanted sopapillas and . . . I wanted to be alone with the beautiful woman who’d purposely ignored me all night. I liked that you didn’t care that I was going to be a doctor.”
I’d almost rescinded my offer when it ended up being only him, but he’d said something to me that night no one had ever said before. Thank you for helping me see life in a different way tonight. I like your attitude. It was a simple thing, but it made me like him. Made me change my attitude about him. He made me feel like I was more than a pretty face that needed to be conquered.
He leaned in. “Remember, we talked all night while listening to your old Carly Simon vinyls?”
“I do remember. I was appalled you didn’t know who she was.”
“I do now, thanks to you.” He paused. “You bring out the best in me, do you know that? You bring out the dreamer in me. I love how your world is gray because it lets you love everybody. I love that you sing silly songs and lick the batter out of the cake bowl. I love that you watch Rocky with me and will eat half this bag of Skittles, minus the awful green apple ones.” He smirked and I giggled.
He cupped my face and drew it closer to his own. He had no idea how much I missed his Skittle breath. “And I love that you took time for my daughter. She knows she’s not her mother’s priority.”
Oh. That hit too close to home.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and let his lips rest against my skin that was aching to be touched by him. “You make me happy in a million different ways. Please believe me.”
“I’ll try.”Chapter ElevenI’ll try was becoming my mantra. I supposed it was better than not trying. I had to say, though, I wasn’t thrilled about trying while I filled out the patient questionnaire at Dr. Morales’s office first thing Monday morning. It was . . . uncomfortable. Questions like: Have you ever been emotionally or verbally abused? I was having a hard time circling yes. Why didn’t I want to admit that? Maybe because it made me seem weak and like I was blaming my mother for my problems. I didn’t want to be that person. A victim.
I skipped ahead, but the questions only got more uncomfortable. Has anyone in your family ever attempted suicide? The answer was, I think so. I’d found my mom unconscious once surrounded by two empty pill bottles. Her boyfriend at the time, Weston, told me not to worry about it. He carried her out of the house. I assumed he’d taken her to the hospital. When she returned home a few days later, she’d said she had the flu. She’d lied. A lot.
The next set of questions made me cringe in my stiff waiting room seat. Do you find it hard to be open with people? Is it NOT important to you to be in a romantic relationship? Do people often call you stubborn? Holy hell. Had someone followed me around and devised this questionnaire based on my life? I will say, though, that one of the last questions made me laugh, even if it probably shouldn’t have. Does anyone in your family have a history of mental illness? I wrote in, Does blowing up your wedding dresses count? If so, yes.