Page 40 of Almost Perfect
Because ultimately, though I was alone up here a lot, I was never fully alone. Warrick popped in and out. Mom was minutes away and we saw each other at least once a week, and usually twice now that I’d scaled back. On top of that, I had friends in town.
Granted, I often thought about how lonely I felt. But that was linked to the desire for my own family—wife, kids, the whole deal. I couldn’t imagine not havinganypeople.
“That sounds difficult.”Awful.But I couldn’t say that.
Her smile tightened at the corners. “That’s enough about me. What about you?”
I dipped my head, leaning in as if the question pulled me closer. “What about me?”
She swirled her spoon around, not quite meeting my gaze. “You’re a busy man—always out with people. What are you after with these women?”
Our eyes locked and warmth flooded my chest, then intensified into a bright burn. Warrick didn’t lie about the fog, either. I’d felt it, felt the tension wrap around us like humid heat.
I could try out a line. Something jaunty and casual and act like I’d be up for some fun with her. But I doubted she’d want that anyway, and I definitely didn’t. We were from different planets, had different lives, and my being anything but honest just didn’t work for me.
“Ultimately? A life. A family.”
She blinked, like she hadn’t expected the answer. But she knew it—I’d said essentially the same thing at least once before. But in the quiet of the breakfast table, spoons clinking gently against bowls, it might’ve emerged as a challenge.
It might’ve felt like a call.
And in the silence that followed, that string in me that’d hoped our differences might not matter had pulled tight and snapped. Because as clear as day, she didn’t want all that.
And bless him, Warrick had piped up then, alerting us to his presence and bringing a breezy, light gust of fresh air and conversation with him.
And speaking of, I returned to the moment in front of me. My brother sat, a knowing, smug little smile on his lips as he watched what had to have been a fairly long pause to reminisce over the time with Calla.
“It wasn’t tense likethat. We were… I guess we were realizing how little we have in common in terms of what we want.” My ability to fool myself into thinking we could work in some way had lost its legs.
“You have very little in common, true.”
Warrick’s statement burst my internal musings.
“Thanks.” I gave him a crusty look that conveyed how little I appreciated him reinforcing that ugly truth.
He smirked. “But here’s the thing. You don’t have to have a ton in common with someone to want them. Or to be with them.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s wrong.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure you’re dumb. Anyway. The point is, you and Calla—”
“Shhh!”
He got those big Warrick baby eyes, utterly filled with delight. My shushing him like a teen afraid his crush would overhear might’ve been a bit dramatic. I couldn’t explain the impulse, but having him say her name, giving me advice about her… it made my feelings a little harder to deny.
“Okay, alright, I see how we’re doing here.” His obnoxious smile didn’t falter as he continued. “My point is, you do need shared interests and stuff, sure. But when you’ve just barely met someone, you won’t always have a lot that’s the same. Part of that sameness is a reason why I think you haven’t clicked with someone yet. You end up dating sweet local girls with the same perspective on life you have because they grew up here too. And they’re great for someone, but it’s okay if they’re not great for you. Cal—uh, I mean, this other person might be rightbecauseshe’s missing all that.”
Could he be right?
I couldn’t deny the facts that quickly slotted into place as he spoke. First, I hadn’t truly clicked with anyone since I’d dated Leo, and we’d discovered that clicking was in a friendly way. Second, since then, I hadn’t felt that gut-level attraction to anyone until Calla. And third, I’d never felt so… compelled by someone. I’d never wanted someone like this, ever.
Maybe our differences were what drew me to her. Or maybe I was just an idiot asking for hurt from a woman who had no interest in giving anything to a guy she kind of lived next to for a few more weeks before she returned to her glamorous, high-speed life.
But could I really ignore that before she showed up, I felt like a dead man walking? My body, my mind, even my subconscious, had been plodding through the days, finding flickers of light in cooking and my bear of a brother. But mostly? Numb. Cold. Alone with the mire of thoughts reminding me I was living another day my father hadn’t and I should be grateful, even if I didn’t feel it.
Could I ignore that she’d already changed me?
SEVENTEEN
