Page 103 of Out on a Limb
I’d had money my whole life. Plenty of it.
And not a penny of it made me happy when my grandmother died.
“I’m saying money doesn’t make me happy.”
“Hmph.” Andrew looked straight ahead as he continued driving.
“You and thathmph.” I crossed my arms and turned to face out the windshield. “If you don’t want to talk to me then just say it.”
Andrew was quiet for a few long minutes as I stared out the windshield without really seeing anything.
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you.” His voice was quiet as he gripped the wheel. “Sometimes I don’t know what to say.”
I peeked his way from the corner of my eye.
Andrew was a serious guy. Definitely not a big talker.
I always assumed it was because he didn’t want to say anything.
Not because he didn’t know what to say.
“Just say what you think.”
“If I do that thenyou’ll thinkI’m an asshole.” There was a hint of resentment in his words.
Enough to turn my head his way. “But you’re not an asshole.”
He went quiet again, but this time he stayed quiet.
The silence stretched out as the little town where I’d spent my whole life passed by the windows.
“Are you being quiet because you don’t want to say what you’re thinking?”
“I’m being quiet because I don’t know what to say.” Andrew still didn’t look my way.
“Just say what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not that easy, Collette.” Finally his eyes came to meet mine. “Not for everyone.”
The Jeep came to a stop, but I couldn’t look away from him. “Is it really that big of a deal?”
Why was it so difficult for men to deal with something I had no real control over?
My grandparents were rich. My great-grandparents were rich.
It trickled down to me. That’s all.
Andrew stared back at me, but this time it seemed like he was struggling with something.
And it made me spill out all the words I knew I should hold back. “I can’t change who I am or where I came from, Andrew.”
“I don’t want you to change.” His response came quickly. Fast enough it was clearly the truth.
“Then what’s the problem?” There definitely was one, and for the life of me I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I’d thrown myself at him.
Literally.
