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“You and I were never very good at talking. I know

you don’t think that I show much emotion, but you don’t

either. It’s not just the scientist in you. It’s how you were

raised, and if that’s my fault, I’m sorry for it. I don’t want it to

keep you from being happy.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I think that you two need to talk. Tell her that you

understand. Give her time if she needs it. Relationships can be

hard. You know that your mother and I fought the devil

himself to be together. Just because we’re still here, still in

love after all these years, doesn’t mean it was easy. It’s hardly

ever easy.”

“I know that.” Do I really know it? What experience do

I have? What have I ever fought for? What have I ever wanted

badly enough?

Adley said that she was more experienced. I had

scoffed at her. I thought she was trying to wound me. Maybe

she was just being brutally honest. This is new to me. Caring

about someone. I have cared about people in the past, men that

I’ve dated, but mostly I just got mad when they found out I

was rich and tried to use me, even though it’s what I expected.

Adley’s right. I don’t have any experience with being

in love with someone. Or even trying to. Wanting to. My heart

is this blank space that was filled up with a bunch of emotional

confusion, anger, and other garbage, but now it’s cleared out

and it’s ready. Ready for her.

“What if I do all that and she still doesn’t want to be

with me? That’s…going to hurt. A lot.”

“Yes.”

Dad brings his pipe up and relights it. We both sit in