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I nod.
“And on your knees, no less.”
“For her, I’ll do anything.” This shit is hard... But that’s because it's real. This is as real as it gets, and I’m not going to back away from the hard stuff this time.
She tosses her head. “And tell her how unworthy you are of her love and of having her in your life.”
“Okay.” I nod again. It’s all true anyway. I plan on telling my Raven exactly how much she means to me and that I’ll do anything, so she forgives me for my assholery. “Yes, that’s good.”
She drums her fingers on my desk, then shoots me a canny look. “Of course, you'll have to figure out what she really wants and give it to her as a grand gesture. Can you do that?”
47
Vivian
Lizzie messages me again to say she's off on another of her tours. I’m not sure what to say to her, so I’m using the excuse of the showing to stay quiet and not reply.
When the phone buzzes with an incoming video call from Zoey, I accept it at once. I need to vent to someone, and I know Zoey will understand.
“I know he cares about me, that bastard. I wish he’d stop lying to himself about it.” I throw down my paintbrush and begin to pace the floor of my studio. “He’s running scared. He knows he’s on the verge of telling me how he feels about me, and he's afraid."
"If there's one thing that scares most men, including your husband, it’s talking about their feelings. I bet he's worried about being seen as weak. I’m sure he wants to open up to you but doesn’t know how to handle all the touchy-feely stuff. It’s not unusual,” Zoey offers.
"But what if he doesn’t come to his senses?" Panic curls in my belly. "He told me I couldn’t convince him otherwise. What if he believes that?”
She scoffs, "I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The man’s head-over-heels in love with you."
It’s my turn to laugh. "Umm… I’m not sure about that."
"I am."
"He cares for me, I know that, but love? If he loved me, he wouldn’t hurt me like this."
"Or maybe, it’s because he loves you that he can’t stop himself from pushing you away?"
I walk back to stand in front of my canvas and stare at the painting. "A part of me wants to believe you. In fact, it makes sense that he hurt me so much because he’s actually in love with me. But another part of me worries I’m losing him.”
"And what are you going to do about it?"
"Eh?" I lift my gaze from the colors on the canvas to the phone screen. "What can I do about it?"
"You can finish your painting and go through with your showing, proving to him that your life goes on without him."
"I intend to." I set my jaw.
"On the other hand”—her voice grows cautious— “you could also not wait for him."
“What do you mean?”
"You could march into his office and demand he come clean to you about his feelings." She purses her lips.
"Isn’t that risky?" I hunch my shoulders. "What if he insists he doesn't care about me?"
"What if he doesn't?” She scrutinizes my features. “What if you were persuasive enough that he doesn’t have a choice but to come clean."
"Hmm…" I balance the phone on the table next to my easel, then pick up my paintbrush.
"You've never struck me as the type who's waiting for your future to come to you.”
