Page 16 of Tear Me to Pieces
I don’t even know who I am or what I want.
Well…
Technically, that’s not entirely true. I do know I want to be a mom—more than just about anything. But that’s not really relevant here.
It might not be relevant anywhere. How in the hell can I have a baby in a house that looks like mine does? What about when I’m at work? If spending money on a renovation stresses me out, dropping hundreds each month on childcare will send me in a spiral.
And if I don’t think I have the capacity to be in a relationship, how in the hell do I think I have the capacity to be a mother?
I sigh, hating the truth I’ve been avoiding. Wishing so much things could be different. ThatIcould be different. But stupid men with small minds and God complexes ruined me.
And I let them. Because it was easier than taking it all back.
And that’s still what I’m doing. Letting stupid men with small minds continue to dictate my life because taking it back from them is hard.
But letting them keep it is turning out to be even harder.
“Okay.” I pull in a breath, sitting up straighter in my seat. “My house can be your little craft project.” Simon starts to smile, but I point my fork at him. “On one condition.”
He angles a brow and waits. “What condition is that?”
“You let me help you. Teach me enough I can keep going after you leave.” I’m guessing hands-on education will be way better than my plan to watch YouTube videos.
I choose to ignore that it also gives me an excuse to continue being around Simon. I can only tackle one issue at a time.
“That’s the easiest deal I’ve ever made.” Simon holds out one hand.
My eyes drop to it. I hesitate for just a second before sliding my palm against his. His fingers are as warm and strong and rough as they were in my mind not so long ago, and it has my insides heating.
“How mad will you be if I tell you I already told Christian to get me an inventory of what he has on hand that might be useful?” Simon’s lips quirk into a half smile.
A laugh jumps free, my head tipping back as a little of the tension bunching my shoulders slips loose. “You know, I’m not really surprised.” My hand is still in his, and I find it difficult to change that. “You seem like the kind of man who doesn’t give up easily.”
“I’m pretty good at knowing what I want and doing what it takes to get it.” Simon’s thumb drags against my skin, the steady stroke soothing and arousing all at once. “And that’s not always a good thing.”
My brows lift, because I don’t see how that’s possible. “Why not?”
As someone who’s struggled to figure out what they want but also how to get it, I can’t see a scenario where follow-through would be bad.
Simon’s hand slowly slips from mine. “Just because I want something doesn’t mean I deserve to have it.”
I curl my fingers inward, like I can hold onto the warmth he provided. The strength that just held me so gently. His words settle around me. As they sink into my skin, it starts to itch with irritation. Annoyance at a woman I never knew and will never know.
If she’s lucky.
“Who gets to decide what you deserve?” I know it’s not some chick who let a man act like her kid’s dad for three years and then took them from each other. “Because from where I’m sitting, I don’t think there’s much you’re not deserving of.”
Simon is kind and hardworking and selfless. On the rare occasions he’s not working, he helps his friends—and my sister—get women like me out of bad situations.
And apparently then offers to renovate their houses for them.
Simon is back to studying me. Looking over my face like he’s searching for something. “I want to believe you, but I’m not sure you’ve been given the opportunity to raise your bar as high as it should be.”
I take a drink of my coffee, hoping I buy enough time for my mouth to understand it needs to stay shut. This man is doing so much for me—cooking, renovating, keeping me from being as isolated and alone as I normally am—I don’t need to trauma dump on him too.
But that shit has a way of slipping through the cracks. Eking out your pores. And that’s what it does now.
“Surprisingly, I’ve got the opposite problem.” I poke at my food, appetite gone. “I’m pretty sure my bar is so far up there, no one’s ever going to be able to touch it.”
