Page 51 of I Almost Do

“I was. I am. I didn’t cry because I was upset. They were happy tears.”

There is a lump in my throat and a sob crouching in my chest now that has nothing to do with happy tears.

To James’s credit, he doesn’t pry me off him or push me away. He just sits there and rocks a little in place, stroking my hair.

But he won’t stop talking. He won’t shut up, and I can’t plug my ears and hang on to him at the same time. So I hear every horrible word.

“Nothing has changed from that fight in the car. I still control your money, and therefore, I control everything from where you live to what you wear. And you still resent me for it—"

“I do not.”

“Clearly you do, or we wouldn’t have had a knock-down, drag-out fight about your allowance.”

I guess I still have a little pride after all, because I take my arms from around his neck so I don’t strangle him with my bare hands. Sliding off his lap, I move to stand, wrapping the blanket around me as I go.

“I don’t care about the money,” I say. “What I care about is the way you use it as a barrier between us.”

Now he’s standing. “How are you not understanding how fucked-up this power imbalance is between us? Ihaveeverything. Icontroleverything. Not just financially, Clarissa. You aren’t independent yet. You’re a baby bird who’s just learning to fly, and I’m your soft place to fall. The way things are right now, how could I ever trust that you want me and don’t just need me?”

I suck in a breath so hard it almost hurts. I want James. I do. It’s also true that I need him, but so what?

Money is the least of it. I need him as my anchor. He’s my family now. Myonlyfamily. He’s my port in the storm. He’s my shoulder to cry on and my soft place to fall, yes. But isn’t that all right? Husbands and wives need each other. I want to be the same for him.

Needing him to manage my money is my father’s fault for the way he set up my inheritance. But we can ignore that part. It’s no different from couples with one spouse at home and the other employed. It’s just a question of trust.

He’s watching as the thoughts flicker across my face, and he seems to take them as some kind of confirmation. “You don’t know yet yourself. You can’t separate the want from the need. It’s all mixed up inside. If the only person in the world you have to call home wants to fuck you, you fuck him.”

“Give me some credit. This isn’t prison, and I’m not your bitch,” I say.

His expression is unreadable as he says, “That’s not just prison, baby. That’s life.”

“What if I turn twenty-five and I’m not interested anymore? What if I ask you for a divorce because we lost our chance when we had it?”

He draws my hand up and presses it against the hard strength of his naked chest, where his heart is racing in a staccato rhythm. “There is no part of me that isn’t terrified at that thought. If you turn twenty-five and tell me to fuck off—if you meet someone else and decide he makes more sense for you—”

“That will never happen. But if you’re scared of losing me, the answer is simple. Nail me down now.”

He shakes his head, features grim. “As much as I resisted it at first, going away to school was the right decision for you. The two of us maintaining some physical and sexual distance? That was the right decision for you. Every single day, I see you gaining self-confidence and independence. Gaining happiness. I will never 'nail you down now' at the risk of you giving up the person you want to become.”

I press my fist to my stomach to hold myself steady. To keep me from losing myself again in wild emotion.

This night is not going the way it’s supposed to. He’s not saying the things I need him to.

He’s right about my growing confidence and independence. I love the person I’m becoming. I make choices for myself, and I’m not afraid to push back when a situation calls for it anymore.

But he’s also right that, if he asked, I would give up every one of my other dreams if it meant I could be his. I’d give up my degree and my career plans. I’d move home in a heartbeat to be with him every day.

When I left for Pennsylvania, I was all about setting boundaries and self-actualization. But if it made James happy, I’d give up anything he asked me to.

And that’s… horrible. I was willing to give up my dreams for my father too. What does that say about me? It doesn't matter. James would never ask me to give up anything.

"But I love you." I say it, and as soon as I do, I'm ashamed of myself. Because that is not the way to say "I love you." Not in that needy, demanding voice. Love isn't meant to control or manipulate.

James cups my face, and when he says it, he says it the right way. The way that's about giving, not taking. "Clarissa, I love you. I am so in love with you, your name is tattooed on my soul. Every beat of my heart and breath in my body belongs to you.Ibelong to you. Don't ever doubt it. Not even for a second. I exist for you.”

20

Lost Without You

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