Page 201 of Built to Fall
“It’s a key to my apartment, Eva.”
I bite on my bottom lip, and if it weren’t for Grant reaching across the table to pull it free, I likely would have drawn blood.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I say, looking back up at him.
I’m not sure what’s normal for this stage of our relationship. I’m not sure what’s considered too fast or too slow.
“I’m giving you a key for the same reason anyone else gives someone a key,” he says, as if it’s that simple.
“So I can break in and watch you sleep?” I try to joke, but my voice doesn’t back it. I sound more afraid than anything.
“You’re always next to me when I sleep,” he deadpans.
“Grant, I don’t need this.”
“Why do you say that?”
Again, trying to lighten the mood, I say, “Because you never lock your door anyway.”
Grant doesn’t laugh. He just watches me.Reallywatches me. I know he can see past all the sarcasm and the jokes I try to deflect with.
“That’s not why you said it.”
I purse my lips, thrown for a second. “What?”
“You said you don’t need the key, but that’s not what you meant by it,” he rephrases. “You’re not worried about not using it. You’re scared of taking it.”
Suddenly, I’m really hoping our food shows up soon. The key is still in my hand, but it feels much heavier now.
“I’m not an overthinker,” I remind him. “But I also don’t want to take this step without thinking about it at all.”
Because what does a key mean? That he wants me to move in? Invade all his personal space? Be at his place more than mine?
It’s what’s been gnawing at me for weeks now. “I don’t want to look up one day and realize I’ve been living in your life and not mine.”Or vice versa.
And while I know Grant has been subtly trying to assure me that that is not the case, this is the first time I’ve said anything about the matter out loud.
Our relationship is moving faster than any other I’ve had before, and I know it’s because I care about Grant more than I ever did about Gage. We’re moving forward because I’m pedaling the bike that is our relationship just as hard as he is. Nobody’s dragging the other forward, or begging the other to keep going.
I’m not trying to keep up or slow down, and it’s a position I’ve never been in before, so I’m scared.
His expression softens in that way that tells me he’s listening—not just waiting for his turn to talk.
“You’re not taking over my life,” he tells me strongly. “You’re a part of it. This key isn’t meant to pressure you—it’s giving you access. It’s a door you can open whenever you want. Or not.”
I glance back down at the key, and when I look back up at him, my eyes are filling with tears. “I love you,” the words fall from my mouth.
It’s a key. A quiet gesture.
But Grant has proven that the only thing he’s ever wanted is for me to live my life like I want to. Not what I assume isnormal, but what feels true.
He’s shown me that love doesn’t have to swallow you whole to mean something. It doesn’t have to ruin you or take away parts of you.
It was something I believed about intimacy—about love. That in order to feel it fully, it meant sacrificing something of myself.
I’m not sacrificing anything with Grant. I’m only becoming more of who I already was.
And I love him.
