Page 139 of Lovestruck at Sundown
And Ihadconceded.I’ll let you take care of me.
I said the words.
My plans had failed. And in my determination to keep rejecting William’s offer to pay for my tuition, he felt the need to go behind my back. I wasn’t pleased about it, but how could I blame him after remembering how I’d agreed to let him take care of me in the spur of the moment?
“I’m so sorry, Guille.” He cleared his throat and waited a few seconds to continue. “I wouldneverdo anything to hurt you. I want to give you everything I have and do everything and anything in my power to make you happy. And it frustrates me to feel like I’m in the wrong for wanting to do so.” He plopped on the bed beside me and laid on his side, pushing himself slightly up with his elbow. We were exhausted and barely able to keep our eyes open at this point. Outside, the sun had risen, and the city was alive and awake.
“All I want,” he continued, “is to be able to share the weight of whatever burdens you because I know I can carry it for you whenever you feel like you can’t.”
“And I appreciate that. I really do,” I said, feeling lucky and grateful to have such a wonderful and generous man like him as a partner in my life. My issue wasn’t just about the enormous amount of money he was spending on me but also about the approach. “But you need to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not trying to be ungrateful, purposely difficult, or stubbornwhen it comes to accepting financial support from you. I’m trying, for once, to prove to myself that I can at leasttryto do things and achieve things on my own. That even without my father’s support, I can rely on myself to get things done. But if you always come to the rescue … how will I know what I’m capable of?”
“You already do so much,” he said. “Your plate is as full as they come. And all I know is you’re one of the smartest, most talented, creative, resilient, and hard-working people I know.”
“I’m angry at you, and that’s not helping me stay mad.” I covered my face with my hands and let out a frustrated groan.
He chuckled. “I’m serious. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me. Not even to yourself. Just give yourself some grace and permission to use my credit card.”
Laughing, I let myself fall back on the bed and stared at the ceiling while William swept a few strands of hair away from my face.
“What if I told you I flew to Stockholm, visited your university, and returned with your culinary school diploma?” I taunted. “Congrats! You’re officially a chef. What would that taste like? No pun intended …”
“Like whatever strawberries taste like to you.” He chuckled, and I snorted out a laugh. Then, he frowned. “I … wouldn’t like it,” he admitted.
“But why?” I pushed. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? I’d be giving it to you on a silver platter. You should want to take it.”
“Yes, but I want to do it myself.”
“Voilà.”
“I understand the logic,” he said. “But I insist on how this is an entirely different situation. You are already putting in all the hard work. All I’m doing is making sure you’re able to keep doing it.”
I turned on my side and mirrored William’s pose. “I’ll let you pay my tuition,” I said, defeated. “One, because I said I’d let you take care of me, and I can’t take that back, nor do I want to. And two, because Ireallywant to graduate.”
William smiled and blinked slowly. His eyelids were hooded with exhaustion, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep myself awake either.
“We only need to agree on two things.” I dragged a finger over his eyebrow and settled my hand on his cheek. “One, you’ll let me pay you back one day. No questions asked. It might take me five years or twenty to save that money and pay you back, but you will let me.” I waved a hand, Jedi-style, in front of his face. He smiled. “And two, you’ll always allow me to assemble my own puzzles.”
William frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you a story,” I said, combing my fingers through William’s hair. “Let’s call it a bedtime story. Once I’m done, we can go to sleep and put this behind us. How does that sound?”
“Lovely.” He lifted me off the bed and carried me back to his room through the invisible door. He put me down on his bed and laid beside me. “We have blackout blinds here and we both know you prefer my mattress over your own.” I did, but still, I gaped at him and chuckled.
William placed my hand on his head and moved it from side to side so I would resume dragging my fingers through his hair. And I did.
“Tell me that story,” he said with hooded eyes.
“My mom loved puzzles. She loved assembling them, and every now and then, she’d choose one of her favorite ones to frame. Sometimes, I would sit beside her and offer her my help, but I didn’t have the patience to make one from start to finish.”
“What?” William said, pretending to be shocked. “You? Impatient?”
“Do you want me to keep scratching your scalp or not?” I warned. He smiled and nodded. “Anyway, she liked puzzles so much that my dad took notice. So he started gifting her framed puzzles. And my mom would hang them, but I know now she was being polite. They were stunning, intricate designs made with thousands of pieces. Pieces she hadn’t assembled herself.”
William lifted his brows and pressed his lips together.
“One day, as my mom unwrapped one of the framed puzzles my dad gave her, she turned to me and said,Don’t ever let anyone take the joy and satisfaction away from assembling your own puzzles. I was nine, so I took her words literally. But now, after all these years, they finally make sense.”
William took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. I rested my head on his chest. “I’ll let you take care of me as long as you never make me feel like you’re assembling my puzzles. And I promise I’ll never assemble yours unless we ask for the help ourselves.”
