Page 105 of Mr. Brightside
She’s radiating joy as she peels out of my arms and returns to the stove. She looks back at me, then to Jake, still smiling. “You two must have missed each other while you were gone.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Jake murmurs, raising one bulging, tattooed arm to scratch the back of his neck. He looks at me with the most earnest expression—like I didn’t just catch him trying to use my abuela to weasel his way back into my heart.
“Can we talk?” he asks softly.
“Go, go,” Abuela insists. “This will not be done for another hour, and I still need to make the rice. I will call you when it is ready.”
I huff out a sigh, fuming that he dragged her into the middle of this.
“This way,” I relent, cocking my head so he’ll follow me down the short hallway that leads to the bathroom and two bedrooms on the other side of the house.
I softly open the door to my bedroom, then move out of the way to let him enter before shutting it behind him.
The room feels smaller than I remember. Most of my belongings are still at the condo. I pace halfway across the room and plant my feet firmly at the foot of the double bed.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
His head snaps to attention, pain blossoming in his expression as he takes in my stance.
“I didn’t expect you to show up,” he tries to defend.
“Dammit, Jake! I don’t know why I’m even surprised at this point. How dare you think you can introduce yourself to the woman who raised me and charm her into loving you just to manipulate me!”
“Baby,” he pleads, taking a step forward that has me glaring in warning.
“Cory,” he corrects.
Ouch. I hate that. But this is how it has to be.
“Fuck,” he curses through gritted teeth, bringing both hands to his hair. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to… Fuck. I just wanted to… No. You know what?” he challenges, his tone shifting from despondent to determined. “I’m not going to apologize for this. I mess up a lot, but this isn’t one of those times. I’m here because I’m trying. I’m here because I’m fighting for us.”
“There is no us,” I remind him, glancing down at the worn floorboards to avoid his gaze.
“Oh, yes there is,” he counters. “Or at least there will be. But you need to understand something. Nothing I do—nothing I haveeverdone—has been to manipulate you, so you need to strike that idea out of your mind.”
I glare at him through narrowed eyes. He’s pulled himself to his full height, standing his ground. I open my mouth to argue, but he continues before I can get a word out.
“Okay, wait—that’s not true. The very first night, at Clinton’s, when I got you to come over to my condo? That night, I had an agenda. But I swear to you, I haven’t had one since. I respect you too much for that shit. I’m not trying to trick you or trap you. I’ve never once in our relationship tried to control you. So get that shit out of your head.”
I’m completely taken aback by his words. This is not the man I left behind a few days ago. This version is determined, confident, and bossy as hell.
“I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since you left—about you, and about us. And I think I figured it out.”
“Oh yeah?” I scoff sarcastically. I prepare my heart for impact, while secretly hoping he reallyhasfigured it out.
“You don’t trust me. Whether it’s because of your exes or because of my past, uh, lifestyle.” At least he has the decency to look chagrinned when he alludes to his previous fuckboy ways.
“You don’t trust me, and it’s not fair of me to just expect you to. I have to earn your trust, and I know now that’s going to take time. That’s the one thing we haven’t had yet, Cory—time. Everything else is there—the attraction, the friendship, the intimacy, the sex”—he wags his eyebrows at me, because of course he does—“but we haven’t had time to grow together. We’ve been totally wrapped up in this relationship, going at warp speed. I realize now there are some things we just can’t rush.
“So that’s why I’m here. That’s what I’m doing. I’m going to learn your favorite recipes so I can make them for you at home. I’m going to get to know your abuela so I can learn more about you, too. This is me trying. I’m going to try so fucking hard to love you how you deserve to be loved. I’ll figure this out, I swear. I’ve already got other ideas written out on the Notes app on my phone. Whatever you think I need to work on, I will. You can even make me a sticker chart and put it on the fridge. I just need time to figure this out and get it right. I just need you to give me time.”
He pins me with a look that cracks the outer shell of my emotional armor.
Everything I’ve felt for the last few days and the decision I’ve made to let him go feels unnecessarily rash as I stand before this man.
He’s right. I don’t trust him. And that won’t change overnight. Just because so many other pieces of us clicked seamlessly in to place, doesn’t mean the one thing we have to work at as a couple is reason enough to throw it all away. It was unrealistic for me to think that.
I quietly crack the knuckles on each hand as I war with myself over admitting I was wrong.