Page 33 of Desk & Deception
I gave the automatic response. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t try to fix whatever he thought was wrong. Instead, he watched me with patient eyes, giving me room to decide whether I wanted to say more.
He wasn’t trying to manage my feelings or steer the conversation. He was showing me that he was learning to listeninstead of rushing to fix things. Which made me feel like I didn’t need to perform being okay just to keep the peace.
After we finished our coffee and pastries, he didn’t push for another date or try to extend our time together.
There was no missing his sincerity when he said, “Thank you for meeting me.”
“Thanks for making time for me.”
His eyes burned into mine. “Always.”
I sat there alone at the table long after he had gone and replayed the entire conversation in my mind. Being around him today felt different in a really good way.
For weeks, I'd been waiting for the moment when his actions stopped matching his words. For proof that all of this was temporary.
But I found none.
Which made me think maybe I could trust the changes he was making.
16
REID
My phone rang just after eight o’clock on Sunday morning. I glanced down at the screen and froze when I saw Lila’s name.
For a second, I thought I was imagining it. Although she’d texted me about going to coffee on Friday, this was the first time she’d called since the breakup.
I’d spent weeks being the one reaching out, trying to maintain the delicate balance of making sure she knew I was thinking about her while also giving her the space she needed.
My pulse kicked up as I answered immediately. “Lila?”
“Hey.”
Something in her voice had me straightening in my chair. “What’s wrong, baby?”
There was a pause before she answered, “My mother texted.”
I closed my eyes as she continued, hating her family still had the power to hurt her…and used it.
“She’s still convinced I’m overreacting,” Lila continued, a brittle laugh slipping through the words. “Apparently, I’ve always struggled with compromise.”
I used to brush off Victoria’s criticism as typical mother-daughter stuff. Now it made me furious because I finally understood how deeply it had hurt Lila, and how much I had contributed to that pain by staying silent.
“I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate. “I hate that they still have the power to hurt you like this.”
A soft exhale came through the line. “I hate that part of me still wonders if she’s right.”
The admission sounded like it had been dragged out of her. I didn’t know what to say except that I hated that she’d spent years carrying that belief around. But this wasn’t about my feelings. “Which part?”
Silence came over the line, then she finally answered, “I think it mostly boils down to questioning if maybe I’m just hard to love.”
Her confession was devastating. This gorgeous, smart, kind woman actually believed she might be too hard to love. And I’d helped put that thought there.
“Lila, no.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. My pain was nothing compared to hers.
“My entire life has felt like a series of people telling me to be smaller. Less emotional. Less sensitive. Less everything.”
