Page 121 of A Fool's Game

“But you don’t trust me.”

“Taylor, I?—”

“You thought I’d choose the house over you.”

I’m suddenly angry because, yeah, that is what I thought. And you know what? I was probably right. I take a step back. “You would have.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I didn’t want to find out.”

“Gem—”

“No. You don’t get to tell me now, after you know the consequences, what you would have done. I’ve watched you sacrifice everything for that house over the last three years. You gave up your restaurant, your apartment. You work sixty hours a week at a job you hate. And for what? For our future? To make our dreams come true? No. You did it all so you could pay for repairs on a house everyone told you was unsavable. And it sounds like you finally learned that. You must have failed the inspection, and now you’re ready to move on, but that doesn’t erase the fact that I’ve always been second to that house.”

I’ve destroyed him with my words, and it doesn’t feel nearly as good as I expected. I can barely look at him as he recovers and finds his own voice.

“I had no idea you felt that way.”

“It’s easier to pretend. That’s been my whole life. My mom chose alcohol. My grandparents chose their freedom and left me with the Whitmores. The Whitmores chose their own children, of course. I’ve been pretending to belong, to be someone’s first choice, my whole life. I couldn’t tell you the truth, because then I couldn’t go on pretending that I was yours, even when I knew I wasn’t.”

Taylor steps toward me, slowly, with his hands raised in surrender. “If I could go back and do it all differently, I would. But I can’t. You’re right. We failed the inspection. The house is probably already registered condemned. My parents are planning their move to Florida. Everyone could see the truth but me. But if you think that fight was only for myself, for that house, you’re wrong, Gem. That house was going to be my way of proving that I was good enough for you. I’ve got nothing else tooffer.”

I close my eyes again as my anger turns to exhaustion. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

He’s silent so long that I open my eyes and find his downcast. He does believe it.

Ainsley’s arms touch down on my shoulders from behind like he knows I’m about to collapse under the weight of it all. I let his strength keep me upright. “I don’t know what to say. I love you. And I want that to be enough.”

“But?” Taylor asks. No malice, just resignation.

“But it sounds like we’ve both been living lives of waiting. It breaks my heart to know that we’ve let this all stand between us for so long.”

“It’s not over,” he says, and I nod, but honestly, I’m not sure.

“My dad flew in yesterday,” Ainsley says from behind me. I’m both surprised and grateful for the distraction. “It’s what kept me from getting to the permit office and making the last boat.”

I don’t know the whole story there, but I can guess enough to let him keep going.

“My whole life I thought my mom got cancer when I was a kid. Turns out, she got it while she was pregnant with me. Got diagnosed, anyway. She probably had it for years before that. She waited to start treatment until I was born. I was mad as hell at my father when he told me that because I assumed he’d wanted his son so badly that he risked his own wife’s life. But that wasn’t the case. He wanted her. He would have chosen her. And it’s all fucked up, and I’m still processing it, but I can’t stop thinking about choices. We have to make them all the time, and most of the time, we don’t have nearly enough information. We make them based on how we feel or what we believe is right. We make them in a split second, choices that alter the course of our lives, without hesitation. We’re so sure ofourselves. But we know nothing. It’s not until years later, if ever, that we understand the implications of our biggest decisions. And that’s only if we allow ourselves to look back and do the math. We’re just doing the best we can. And this life is short. We’ve got nothing to offer anyone except our anger or our grace. I was devastated to think that my dad spent my whole life wishing he had my mom instead of me, but he doesn’t see it that way at all. He’s happy to have me and proud of how we’ve made it on our own. We can’t know, but we can do our best.”

Ainsley lays his forehead on my shoulder, and I reach back for him, catching both hands and pulling his arms around me. We breathe together for a long moment before Taylor finally breaks the silence.

“I was in over my head,” he starts. “At the Pike Place restaurant. The chef was a cokehead, alcoholic, asshole. He was offering me partnership, but it was really only sharing the liability for all the money he borrowed to open it. When the call came from my parents, I saw my way out, and I took it. When I met you a year later, Gem, I felt like a total loser—a cafeteria manager, lives with his parents, loser. I needed a hero’s story to feel like I was worthy of even asking you out. So I grabbed the only one available. I’m not sure when it became my identity, but somewhere along the way, I started believing my own lies about the situation. Believing in a fairytale world where you and I moved to that house and lived happily ever after. But the fucked-up part is, I was already happy. I already had everything I thought that house was going to give me. I just didn’t know how to let go.”

If I didn’t have Ainsley for support, I would probably collapse right onto the threadbare purple carpeting.

“And now?” I ask, my voice a whisper.

I thought I was prepared for my leaving to be the end, butI’m not. I swear my heart stops beating with my breath as I wait for him to answer.

“And now, I’m letting go.”

I gasp. In all the ways I thought this would go since opening my hotel room door, I never actually processed the possibility that he would walk away from me. To tell me I’m not?—

“Letting go of the house. The city. My job. Whatever it takes. We can live in this crime ridden, capitalist hellhole if that’s what we need to do.”

“I’ll buy us an apartment so incredible we forget all about the sirens and murder rates,” Ainsley promises from over my shoulder.

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