Page 101 of Crazy In Love

“That I’m dumb?”

She snorts. “That it hurts like hell. That the highs feel really, really freakin’ good, and the lows feel worse than anything you’ve ever felt before.”

“Feels worse than that time I was called into the principal’s office in eighth grade,” I rasp. “Where the school counselor was waiting for me, and child protective services, too. I was too old to be cute and loved by some other family, but too young to live on my own. My mom wasn’t comingback. So I was tossed into a system that had no room for me, counting down until I was old enough to get on with my life on my own.”

“Instead, you aged out and ran face-first into this Podunk kid who just got off a Greyhound bus. I had this weird, marbles-in-my-mouth accent you liked to make fun of, and a baby growing in my belly. You helped me, Fox. You saved my life.”

“Wasn’t gonna stand by and watch another girl get screwed over a society that refused to support her,” I grumble. “And wasn’t gonna see another child tossed into a flawed system.”

“You were my co-parent more than Colin ever was. He gave us a home and a health insurance policy. But you gave us love. You gave us acceptance. And considering your parents failed you on both fronts, the fact youcould,proves how amazing you truly are.”

“It’s all quite pathetic, huh?” I slide my hand over the baby’s back, smoothing down the pants ruffles and patting her bottom. “My origin story is so ridiculously cliché, I’m embarrassed to even say it out loud. People probably think I’m making it up.”

She snuggles into my arm, exhaling until I feel her breath on my skin.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” I reach up and swipe a single treacherous tear from my cheek. “I don’t like it when people know.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Jesus, you’re in good company. You, me, Tommy, and Chris… we make up a pretty trash-tastic foursome of trauma clichés. We could turn it into a drinking game. Take a shot if your parent ever made you feel like shit on the bottom of their shoe.”

“We’d get drunk pretty fast. And I don’t like vomiting after alcohol. It burns.”

She nibbles on her lip, chewing contemplatively. “I think you should tell him how you feel. Omit the bit about your parents if you must, but he deserves to finish this with his eyes wide open.”

“Why, though? He won’t come to New York, and Plainview nearly broke my nose yesterday. They really should put stickers on clean glass doors.”

“Have you even asked him?” She trudges straight over my feeble attempt at a joke. “You don’t get to decide what he’ll do?—”

“I did, actually. I asked him.” I bring my finger up and stroke Hazel’s chubby cheek. “He said no.”

“He didn’t have all the information! He would’ve taken that as a hypothetical question, Fox. Not ‘I’m in love with you, and I’m begging you to choose me.’ You’re not being fair.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Iambeing fair.” I slide my fingerover the bridge of Hazel’s nose. “What’s not fair is to ask the same question a second time, knowing his answer already, but adding on a layer of emotional manipulation.”

“Fox—”

“Just let it go. Please. I won’t beg him to choose me. I refuse.”I stopped begging to be loved when I was fourteen years old. “Besides, he’s happy here, and he only just got you and the kids back. He’s not ready to walk away, no matter who is waiting for him in another—arguably better—state.”

She sniffles, breathing out an almost silent laugh. “And you won’t come here?”

“I can’t be happy in a town I’m not wanted in.”

“ButIwant you here! Franky wants you here. Tommy wants you here. And I’d bet my left tit, without a single shred of hesitation, that Chris wants you here. Give him a chance to know what’s at stake before you cut and run.”

“I’m a bad organ transplant, Lana. And this town is the body rejecting me.” I pull back, but only to twist and look down into her eyes. “It’s been nice, though.”

“Being here?”

I shake my head. “Falling in love. If I was gonna get stupid and pull a stunt like this, then I’m glad it was with him.”

“He’s pretty amazing, right?” She blinks welling tears from her eyes, swatting a droplet that rolls down her cheek. “There’s something magical about these Watkins boys. From absolute horror and cruelty came such incredible men. I’m astonished every single day by how truly decent they are.”

“Will you take an extra swing at the next bitch who stomps through town and catches his eye? For me?”

“Baseball bat?”

“Swing high,” I sigh. “Put your shoulders into it. Justthinkingabout him and this bitch back here in Bumfuckville makes me want to puke.”

“If he meets someone and falls in love and they marry, I’ll have to be her friend. You understand that, right?”