He’s been through so much. In comparison, honestly, I got off lighter. Yet, I’m the one who seems to be reeling from the scars I’m carrying inside. Is it a guy thing? Are they better at compartmentalizing? I mean, Liam can be an asshole, but he’s also proven himself as someone who genuinely cares for me. I know. This relationship between us started off as a farce, and he still expects a child out of our union, but other than that… He’s surprised me at every turn with his thoughtfulness, his ability to read my mind, and how intuitively he seems to guess what I want. Like right now, when he rocks me in his arms and rubs circles over my back. I loosen my hold on him and begin to slide down, but he props me up with his palms under my butt. He brushes against the bookshelf, and two more books fall off the shelf.
"Shit," he swears, then turns, and without pulling out of me, walks over to the settee. He sits down with me straddling him. He pushes my face into his shoulder, continues to rub circles down my back. That only makes me cry harder, my labored breaths rasping in and out. Damn, I’m so tired of feeling sorry for myself, and yet, I can’t stop myself from letting the tears flow down my cheeks.
"Baby, stop. Please. Seeing you cry is killing me."
I sniffle, but can’t stop my crying.
"Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else."
"Eh?"
"Indulge me," he murmurs.
Is this his way of getting me accustomed to the idea of telling him what’s on my mind? It’s not a bad tactic, actually. I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I already told you how I lovedThe Wedding Plannerand Jennifer Lopez’s character in it?"
He nods.
"Well I didn’t only watch RomComs. I also lovedDonnie Darko, andLost in Translationand8-Mile."
He whistles. "Wouldn’t have expected that."
"BecauseDonnie Darkois too dark,Lost in Translationis too whimsical, and8-Mileis too grungy?"
"That, too." He chuckles.
"Where do you think the name Tiny comes from?"
I sense him looking down at me. "That’s why you called him Tiny? After Eminem’s character in8-Mile?"
"Yep. HisLose Yourselfis the anthem of my life in a way, you know?"
"So you’re not only a talented organizer of things who knows how to get things done, you’re also a poet at heart?"
"More like an angsty, rebellious teen who never grew up." I laugh.
"It’s good to channel your inner angsty teen. It propels you forward toward what you truly desire."
I look up then. "Is that what you do?"
"Channel my inner angsty teen?" His features grow hard. His eyes take on a faraway look, and I know he’s gone back to that space as a teenager when he was taken and held. He sighs and his expression grows thoughtful. "Maybe a part of me never left that room where I was held. Perhaps, deep inside, I’ll always be that helpless boy trying hard not to lose his mind to the panic that had set in. Trying to be grown up, but realizing I was still a child. Trying to put on a brave face, even to myself. Telling myself if I didn’t break, everything would be okay."
"And did you break?" I ask in a low voice.
"Not then. It might have been better if I had. I might have found catharsis then. I’ve never stopped fighting since that day. Never stopped trying to prove myself to myself since."
Like me. I’m trying to prove to myself that I can move on and still be me, despite a part of me being not what it once was.
"If I could control myself, I could control everything else around me. At least, that’s what I thought, you know?"
"You have no idea how much I do," I murmur.
"That’s what I love about you. Even when we’re at odds, it feels like there’s a tacit understanding between us."
He used the L word. Is he aware he used the L word? Maybe it doesn’t mean anything that he did. Maybe it was just a figure of speech. Also, we don’t know each other well enough for him to use that particular word. I push the thought of my head.
"What now?"
"Now? I feed you.”