Page 103 of Beautiful Monster

“No, Sunny. I called because I want to talk to you. I need you to know everything about me. If we’re going to do this…if you’re coming home to me, then we need to get the heavy stuff out of the way. The really ugly stuff. You know it.”

I do know it. But it doesn’t mean I want to hear about him with anyone else, and my mind is not about to process what this means for us. Did he cheat on me? Are we technically together? I told him I was his…but would I take him back if he did? Pushing the heavy thoughts aside, I breathe a heavy sigh into the phone.

“Then talk to me.” I stop at the stop light and look toward the city center. The Hyatt isn’t the tallest building in Pineridge, but I can make out the lights of the sign. I could be there in fifteen minutes by car.

“Remember that blonde woman who came to the house? The one I fought with. It’s her birthday. I thought I could handle it, and the drinks started pouring…”

“Alex.” My voice is pleading with him. I don’t know if I can hear this part.

“She and I have always had an easy physical relationship. I knew she was lonely, too. I knew coming out tonight would be bad, but I was so fucking bored at home. I missed you so goddamn much that I couldn’t stop myself.”

Tears prick my eyes. Somewhere in the back of my throat, anger bubbles and I’m ready to scream. “What did you do?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“I panicked, baby. I should have gone home, but I just thought some fresh air would help, so I came up to the roof, and the fucking door locked on me. Now I’m stuck up here, sitting around an empty pool, and I thought about you.”

I swallow, pacing back toward my apartment building, trying to piece together what he’s saying. “Did you…break your promise, Alex?”

“No,” he says with a hint of sadness in his tone. “Well, I broke the drinking one. I haven’t been drunk for months. One glass of wine, and I was tipsy as shit.”

He chuckles into the phone, and I find a way to smile through my tears. “That’s okay, Alex. One glass of wine is okay.” My voice trails as I grasp on to that no. “But that other promise… You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”

“God, no, Sunny. But as soon as I took that first sip, I felt like someone I used to be. Someone who would have drank too much, gone home with her, fucked her and treated her like she meant nothing to me. But I didn’t. I just…” He lets out a disgruntled sigh, and I can picture him running his hand over his tired face. “Fuck, Sunny. I thought of you.”

The air leaves my chest, and I drop onto the steps leading up to the front porch of the studio. “Alex,” I breathe. “You scared the shit out of me.”

It’s quiet a moment, and I stare across the city again, imagining him up there. Knowing it’s too far, much farther than when only our backyards separated us.

“Remember that night when I stood at my window, and I let you see me?”

I hear his heavy breath as if he’s laughing on the other end of the line. “Of course I do. I knew you were trouble even then.”

“I wanted you, Alex. I wanted you to be my first because I trusted you.”

“Do you still trust me?”

“Yes, I do,” I answer, biting my lip. “I trust that your heart is good. That you know the mistakes you’ve made, and even then, I trusted that you would be different with me.”

“The things I did in the past, Sunny. Those weren’t mistakes. I was irresponsible because I could be. I broke hearts. I was cruel on purpose, and the reasons I was so fucked up would only be excuses I don’t deserve.”

Only our breathing fills the line for a moment until he finally mumbles so quietly, I almost don’t hear, “I don’t deserve you either.” And it feels like a sharp knife to my chest. How can he feel that way when I want him so badly? How do I take away this pain for him, opening the doors for our future?

Standing up, I walk up to where the patio chairs sit on the porch, and I bundle my legs up inside my large sweatshirt. Then, I brace myself for what I’m about to request.

“Then tell me everything,” I whisper into the phone. “Say it all now and then let it all go. Allow yourself a fresh start, and if after I hear everything, I still think you deserve us, I’ll come to the house after this is over.”

There’s a strangled-sounding breath, and I know he’s fighting tears on the line. After a minute, he starts talking. He starts with his teen years, growing up with such little supervision and too much money. How he threw away his college years partying, trying every drug he could get his hands on, and forming an unhealthy relationship with sex that evolved over the years.

He tells me about the business ventures he started and abandoned, how desperately he misses that life. How he feels he doesn’t deserve an ounce of happiness anymore.

“Remember that girl from the gallery party? The one I went out back to smoke with?”

“Yes,” I breathe, afraid to hear the rest of this story.

“She was married to my best friend for ten years, and I was fucking her behind his back. I hurt the person who cared about me most, and for what? Sex?”

“Is that how you got that scar?”

“Can you blame him? He threw my ass into that coffee table, and I didn’t even fight him. I knew I deserved it. That’s when I knew I needed a change, Sunny. I couldn’t live with myself anymore, so I sold my condo and moved into the house.”