Page 45 of Built to Last

“How?”

How long do we have? “In every way. You’ve never had to worry about money.”

Even in the dim light I can see his eyes roll. “Of course I have. I assure you, you don’t know my whole story. But let’s address this part. I was a snob when I met you.”

This I can handle. “Yes, you couldn’t stand the thought of working with some blue-collar stiff.”

“No, I worried Anika was bringing in a friend who didn’t have a lot of experience in high-end renovations,” he corrects, and he’s so calm I can barely stand it because I’m not. “I certainly have zero issues working with blue-collar people. I work with construction crews and contractors all the time, and this will shock you, but they tend to like me. I did a whole series about helping people figure out how to renovate their homes on a budget. I don’t have a problem with the circumstances of your birth, but you have a real problem with mine. I can’t help I was born into a wealthy family, and honestly, while we’re at it, let’s talk about how many women your age own their own apartment and are the CEO of a family firm.”

He is deliberately misunderstanding me. “My apartment is eight hundred square feet, and I have to fight with the building constantly. You have an AI elevator and a view of Central Park. I have a view of the bodega across the street and regularly watch drug deals go down. We are not the same.”

He slides off the cot and does not seem to mind that he’s naked. “You have no idea how the same we are, but you don’t want to see it.”

I try not to look at how gorgeous this man is. “I am nothing like you.”

And that’s part of the problem. I’m not sure why he’s here unless it’s to use his gorgeousness and charm to get me to do what he wants. I’ve seen myself in the mirror.

You should find a man now, Harper. You’re not getting any younger. No man wants you for your wisdom, honey.

I don’t need to hear my mother in my head right now.

“You are everything like me.” He’s got a slight smile on his face as he moves into my space. “You are practically the female version of me except without my refined tastes. You are stubborn as hell. You tend to center things around your personal feelings but you tell yourself you’re thinking of others. You equate sacrifice with love instead of the martyrdom it actually is. Trust me. I know how that feels.”

I take a step back, not liking how he seems to see me. Or maybe it’s that he sees through me. “You’re a psychologist now?”

“No, I’ve just had an enormous amount of therapy. We can all use some, but especially when you come from highly toxic family situations,” he says quietly as though trying to handle me with care.

There he is. There’s the arrogant man who thinks he knows everything.

“I’m insane now. Are you seriously going there? I need therapy?” I don’t address the other thing. Because I’m nauseatingly certain he’s right. I’ve never thought of it that way before. Or he’s wrong and this is just how my mom is. She doesn’t mean anything by it. My dad cheating on her didn’t make her leave him, so I can’t accept that I won’t live that life.

He puts a hand to his head as though the whole conversation is giving him a headache. “I didn’t say that, and you know therapy isn’t about insanity most of the time. Stop making people feel bad for needing help sorting themselves out.”

I take a deep breath. The flash fire is here again, and I have a choice. “That is not what I’m trying to do.”

I can push him away. It would be the safest course of action. He’s getting way too in my business, and all this crap about turning the dangerous fire into something that might keep us warm is bullshit. I can do what I’ve been doing and shove this man away as fast as I can. The sex means nothing. The sex is something I can get anywhere.

But the way he held me. Like I’m something precious. Something he truly doesn’t want to let go. The way he smiled after. A pure, joyous smile, like he did something amazing and the amazing thing is me.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have that again. Do I want to throw it away without examining it at all? What if he’s right and there are people who are worth the heartache that inevitably comes?

I know one thing. I want to stop hurting this man. I want to stop reacting to every perceived insult and act like the Harper Ross I want to be, and that is not the woman I’ve been around him to this point. He’s been a place where I could put all my anger, and that stops now.

“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath and touch him, wanting him to know I mean it. “I’m glad you went to therapy. You might be right about the toxic family bit, but it hurts to hear it.”

His expression softens, and he pulls me into his arms. “I am, too, but I think I need more. So much more because I’m at a loss for what to do with you. I don’t want to hurt you. But I also don’t want to let you go. There’s a lot about my life right now that isn’t settled.”

“Yeah. You either have a fiancée or a stalker.” I turn my chin up with a wince. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that in a rude way. I don’t know what to call that whole situation.”

His hands smooth back my hair, and he presses a kiss on my forehead, a tender gesture that gets to me in a way all that passion can’t. “I do not have a fiancée, and Britta only stalks me when she needs something. I promise it won’t affect you in any way. She’s back in Europe, and I’m sure she used those pictures she got out of me to prompt whatever wealthy boyfriend she’s after to capitulate to her demands. That’s the only relationship I have with her now. She uses me as a blunt instrument. Nothing else. I haven’t had sex in over eighteen months.”

That surprises me. “Really?”

He nods solemnly. “I kind of swore it off, and not because I was pining for her. Pretty much the opposite. I realized I managed to get myself involved in the same kind of toxicity my father indulged in and decided to take a break. Everything fell apart around the same time, and I kind of pulled into myself. That was when a friend of mine suggested I go to Dr. Warner. He’s helped me see I often take on too much responsibility because I’m still playing out my childhood fears that if I’m not on top of everything, in control of everything, the world will fall apart. That’s what I meant about the martyrdom thing. I should have put it better. He would tell me language is important, and I need to speak one you understand. So let me put it better than I did. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it feels like you have to keep it there. But it’s not your responsibility, so what if you just…didn’t.” He kisses me again. “And that’s all I’m going to say because I just figured out how to keep you.”

“What does that mean?” When he kisses me, I can’t think straight.

“It means I’m a ruthless bastard, and I don’t care what my brother says. Grumpy and grumpier can find a way.” He sounds entirely sure of himself. “And that way is a common enemy. Baby, you think I’m bad. I can give you someone worse. You don’t like those floating shelves.”

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