Page 68 of Crash and Burn

“I look terrible in photos, remember?” I told him.

“You look beautiful,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.

He balanced the camera on one of the metal electrical boxes, fiddled with the settings and rushed to me.

"We've got about ten seconds," he said.

He positioned himself behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He was tall enough to rest his chin on the top of my head. I placed my hands on his forearms, feeling warm and protected in his embrace.

"Get ready," he said.

We looked into the camera. I smiled widely and wondered if my giddiness bubbling under the surface would be obvious on film.

The camera flashed. Grant gave me a squeeze.

"It's going to be sunrise, soon," he said. "You want to wait up for it?"

I took his hand in mine.

"I'd love to," I told him.

We sat on the top of the rickety stairs, watching as the sky turned from pink to orange to blue.

"You remember those thirty-six questions?" Grant asked. "There was one more I wanted to ask.

"What was it?" I asked, intrigued.

"If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?" he said.

"Oh damn," I winced.

Grant gave me a sympathetic smile.

"I love my parents,” I started. "It's just..."

I didn't have the words to explain my conflicted feelings about my relationship with my mom and dad.

"I'll start," Grant said. "I wish we had more money growing up. My mom is amazing and she did her best, but it would be nice not to feel all this pressure to provide for her and Sammy now that I'm a working adult. It would have been nice to have the option of going to college and partying and all that normal stuff, you know?"

My heart ached for Grant, even as I was filled with guilt. My parents were willing to pay for my schooling — as long as I chose a career they approved of.

"You're a wonderful man, Grant," I told him. "I shouldn't complain about my parents so much. I had it easy compared to you. I just feel like..." I trailed off.

"You're allowed to feel however you want, Liz," Grant said.

"It just feels like I'm one big disappointment to my parents," I blurted out. "Because I'm working at a bar and not climbing the corporate ladder or off studying to be a paralegal or something."

"You do have an obsession with crime thrillers and serial killers," Grant said. "A career in law might be your thing."

"I just want them to accept me for beingme, and not spend all their time wishing I was something I'm not."

I stopped, pressing my lips together.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I don't mean to be a downer."

"Never feel like you have to sugar coat things with me," Grant said. "I want to hear everything, the good and the bad. I want to be there for you through all of it."

I tipped my head up to meet his eyes.