Page 14 of Sparks Fly
Me: Don't let it go to your head. It's already big enough as is.
Mark: Ouch. You’re fuckin’ ruthless.
Me: You can handle it.
Mark: For you? I definitely can.
I put the phone down on my chest and stare at the ceiling for a moment. Outside my window the neighborhood is completely still. It’s that time of night when everything goes to sleep and only the people who can’t sleep or are night owls are still awake. In the next room, Cora is passed out cold. She goes and goes until she can’t go anymore, and she has to go to sleep, otherwise no one wants to be around her.
I pick the phone back up.
Me: Can I ask you something?
Mark: Anything. Whatever you want to know. There are no secrets here, Trish.
Me: Why are you being so patient with me?
I send it before I can overthink it, even though part of me wants to immediately take it back. It's too honest. Too much like admitting that I've been watching for the catch, waiting for the moment he decides I'm more complicated than I'm worth.
Mark: Because you're worth being patient for.
I’m not sure how to answer that, even though it feels better than almost anything else anyone has ever said to me, when another text comes through.
Mark: And because I've heard what it looks like when someone isn't patient with you. I'm not interested in being that.
I don't know what to say to that. I'm not sure there are words for it, actually, so I don't try to find any.
Me: Gunner has a big mouth.
Mark: He loves you. Can't fault him for that.
Me: No, I can't.
But I hate that he has to love me this way. He has to know what it’s like.
Mark: For what it's worth, everything he told me just made me want to kick Derek’s ass. Not run from you and Cora.
There it is. Right there in a text message at twelve-thirty in the morning, the thing I didn't know I needed to hear. I press my lips together and blink at the ceiling until the stinging behind my eyes goes away.
Me: You're making it very hard to keep things casual, you know that?
Mark: Perfect. I’m glad to hear it. Casual was never what I was going for.
Me: What were you going for?
Mark: Time together, for starters. The rest we figure out as we go.
I laugh softly, relieved that this doesn’t feel as serious as the rest of it has. My hands are shaking as I continue to text him, but not in a bad way.
Me: I’d love to have dinner with you again. I’m still thinking about that lasagna.
Mark: I’m mentally planning the next menu already.
Me: You’re so cute. There's a menu?
Mark: There's always a menu, Trish. I take this very seriously.
Me: A man who cooks and takes it seriously. Cora's right. You are cute.
