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Mara had done that for me. She didn’t even realize it. “What else?” I asked.
“You know that part of the movie where the characters messed up and everyone knows they need to be together, but they have to get their heads out of their asses first?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You like that part?”
“I hate it. I hate feeling their pain. But there’s always a piece of it, where someone smarter, wiser, more experienced passes on their wisdom. That’s the part I love. Everything I know, I learned it from a romance novel. Now that I’m writing, I get to pass it on too. It feels like I’m part of this lineage of women, writing in a genre that everyone underestimates or disregards completely. But they just don’t see what we see.”
“What is that?” I asked, finally turning down her street.
“That good sex and happily ever after are things worth fighting for.”
I reached her house and parked along the curb. As soon as the car was stopped, I jumped out and ran to her where she sat cross legged in front of her pickup. I knelt to the ground beside her and took her into my arms.
She sobbed, shaking into my chest. “I’m so sorry, Jonas. I feel so stupid.”
“Shh,” I breathed. “Shh. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She pulled back, looking at me with teary, red-rimmed eyes. “But I do.”
I drew my brows together. “For taking some space for yourself? You don’t need to worry about that. I know I came on strong, and I talked to my mom about you seeing Tracey. I’m not sure what she said to you, but I’m sure it didn’t help.”
She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “It’s not that, Jonas. It’s what I did after.”
My heart constricted all over again, trying to picture what Mara really had to be sorry for. The warning Birdie had given me the night before. “What did you do?”
“I called Hayden.”
It hurt worse. Worse than I even imagined.
I stood up, began pacing the driveway trying to process what she’d told me. Trying not to shout or punch something or just collapse and give up.
“Jonas,” she breathed.
I held out my hand, telling her to stop. I wasn’t ready to talk. I needed tothink. Mara and I were... what? Dating? Fucking? The only label we’d ever given ourselves was fake boyfriend and girlfriend, and that was only for the sake of her career. I’d never asked her to commit to me, and she hadn’t offered. All this time I’d been so against games, but I’d been playing one myself. I had been afraid to ask for what I wanted for fear of pushing her away.
I wanted commitment. I wanted her to be mine and no one else’s. I wanted her to sleep in my bed and no one else’s. I wanted her to call me when she needed someone, and no one fucking else.
But why wasn’t Hayden here? If they’d slept together, if he’d been around, why hadn’t she called him?
My heart lifted slightly.
She may have wanted him, but sheneededme.
“Jonas,” she said again. And this time I didn’t stop her. I looked at her as she pushed herself up from the cement. She walked to me, cupping my cheeks with both of her hands.
I leaned into her palm, desperate to feel reassured, to know that this wasn’t all slipping through my fingers before it really had a chance to begin.
“I need you to understand. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you at least know...”
“Know what?” I asked, watching the movement of her lips, hoping her words would bring healing instead of destruction.
“When Tracey told me you had asked her out, I immediately made it about myself. She was skinnier than me, blonder than me, prettier than me. And I assumed that was the kind of girl you wanted. And I didn’t like being the girl who had to wonder if she was good enough. So I ran. I tried to distract myself in all the ways I knew how... but in my mind, I kept coming back to you.”
I knew there were other guys out there, better looking than me, stronger than me, more exciting and interesting and artistic too. That was okay, as long as I was the one she wanted. The one she came home to. “Mara...”
She shook her head and continued. “I’m shitty at the relationship thing. I’ve never done it. Never tried. But I want to do it with you. I want to have a chance with you, for real this time. And I’ll understand if you just want to give me the middle finger and tell me to fuck off. I’d deserve it. God knows I’d deserve it. But if you give me a chance, if you’d let me be the kind of person I know I could be with you and only you—” Her voice broke off in sobs.
I thumbed away her tears, holding her close and kissing her forehead. “Of course I want to be with you,” I said. “Of course I do.”