Page 62 of Built to Last

“His actions speak louder than words,” Darnell counters.

Ah, but Darnell is forgetting the most important part. “Mostly because he doesn’t actually say words.”

His lips press together as he looks me over. “Harper, I do not give relationship advice. It actually physically pains me to be saying these words to you. Like deep down in my gut where dinner should be right now.”

I don’t like receiving relationship advice. The only one who ever gives it is my mother and that’s mostly to tell me I’m going to die alone. “Just say it.”

“Has he given you any reason to doubt him?” Darnell asks.

“So many.”

“Name one.”

“All right. He hated me at first. He thought I shouldn’t be working on a project like this.”

Darnell’s head shakes. “Nope. That was an opinion he had in the beginning. He’s apologized. Has he given you reason to doubt that he doesn’t want to be with you?”

I think about how to answer. “He tells me how much he likes me. It’s weird and comforting. He’s liberal with the praise, but why would I trust that? It could be how he gets me to do things for him. I’ve seen it happen before. Things can look good from the outside…”

He interrupts me again. “Nope. We’re not talking about your rough childhood and your mom being a walking, talking mouthpiece for the patriarchy while your dad treated you like a son he needed to toughen up and had affairs behind your mom’s back.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

He stares at me. “Girl, get thee into therapy, as my friend Shakespeare would say. Seriously? You don’t see the connection between your childhood and your inability to believe that your relationships can work out?”

He’s not listening to me. “This is about Reid walking away. Not my dad.”

“Everything is about your dad,” Darnell insists. “Everything. Give me one thing Reid has done in the month you’ve been basically living and working with him that tells you he wants to walk away.”

I love the way he put that. It lets me pivot back to my original point. “The fact that he literally walked away.”

Darnell’s eyes roll. “No, just let me make an appointment with my therapist guy.”

I am so frustrated. “He walked away.”

Darnell sighs and sits back. “It sounds to me like he ran away, and until you understand why you can’t know what’s really happening between the two of you.”

And he’s neatly summed up the issue. “He won’t tell me. Believe me, I’ve asked.”

He considers me for a moment, and I almost think he’s going to leave it at that. It might be for the best since he doesn’t understand. Or maybe I don’t. Instead, his voice goes soft. “How much does he mean to you?”

I don’t want to admit how much, but I guess honesty is the best policy here. “I care about him.”

“Do you see yourself having any chance at a future with this man?”

“No.” I groan and lean forward, setting my mug down on the coaster. “That’s the thing. I don’t see us together. How would it work? He wants to put together a new show, and this is my one and only. I’m worried about the next board meeting and the vote. If I take more time off, I lose the company to Paul. Even if Reid stays in the city most of the time, I work so much. I put in fourteen-hour days most of the time.”

“How will any relationship work if you have that mindset?” His expression softens. “And this is what I mean when I talk about therapy. It’s great for figuring out why you do the things you do. Especially the things that make a person miserable, that sabotage our growth and happiness. Have you considered the fact that working as hard and long as you do means you can’t have a relationship?”

“Yes. Of course. I told you.” I wonder if that’s why Reid went into therapy. He said he did it after the accident. It’s the one thing he likes to talk about. Not the accident but how he got help.

“Have you considered that’s precisely the reason you choose to work the way you do?” Darnell asks. “I know in your head you don’t have a choice. I know in your heart you have to do these things because they’re your family and it’s been drilled into you that family comes first. Even when it hurts. Even when they actively harm you. That’s what your parents taught you. But if you were my kid, I would only want one thing for you.”

“To be happy,” a familiar voice says.

I look up and Lydia is standing there still wearing the bright yellow apron she dons when she’s cooking. Lydia Marino is five foot nothing, with dark curly hair and big brown eyes. She has a loveliness that defies the marks of aging. There’s something infinitely warm about Lydia, and I realize it’s why I avoid having these talks with her.

Because I don’t understand. Because her love and affection are unfamiliar to me.

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