Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
My face straight and unreadable, and my mouth pressed closed lest I say something unconsidered, I blink. Finally, I lick my lips and say slowly, “What if I don’t know?”
I do not admit weakness. I do not have weaknesses. But I truly don’t know how I receive love, at least romantically. I’ve been too busy to put time aside for something as trivial as dating. In my family, I’m the caretaker of everyone else, keeping them on track and too often, preventing them from fucking their lives up. Though, that’s been less frequent since all my brothers found wives and girlfriends.
The loneliness I felt at Samantha’s comes back to me. Is that it? I want to not be alone? That sounds so ridiculously simplistic, but it’s not. I’m not an easy person. I’m too often cold and cutthroat, my tongue is sharp and quick, and I rarely show vulnerability to anyone.
So, what do I want?
A memory of the three of us in that hotel room flashes across my mind. Not of the hot sex, but of us eating Chinese food. Riggs was feeding me noodles, surprisingly good with the chopsticks despite his too-big fingers. At the same time, Maddox was telling a story about the dog he had as a child—Scooter the dachshund—and we were laughing as he called him a roly-poly of a weenie. He’d ended up kissing me, completely unconcerned with my mouthful of food, even slurping up a noodle that landed wetly on my chin. It’d been comfortable and relaxed. It’d been fun, and I’d felt like a different version of myself.
Is that what I want—to be someone else?
No, I like me, so what else could it be? I let myself sink deeper into the memory, trying to find a label for what’d been going on in my head. In that moment, I’d felt… accepted. Riggs and Maddox had shown themselves careful and caring, strong and gentle, and ironically, as cocky as I am. We were all ourselves, even if we were hiding some of the finer details of who we are.
We were natural. That’s what I want.
I spent my whole childhood trying to live up to the standards created by my older brothers and never quite reaching those lofty ideals. Later, when I did find my way to the top, it still wasn’t enough… no, it wasn’t right. There were all these unexpected benchmarks I was supposed to meet in addition to what they all did. I had to be smart, but not too smart, pretty but not conceited about it, approachable but not too friendly. It took me a long time to unlearn some of those lessons and figure out how to be me and not care what anyone else thought.
With them, I was… me. And not only was that okay, but they also loved it. They celebrated it. They wanted it, and they still want me, even now, after I’ve been rejecting them at every turn.
I’ve been silent too long and Angeline clears her throat. “You’ll figure it out when the time is right. If I may be so bold to suggest…” She frowns, her voice back to its professional cadence. “You need someone who understands that you have a multi-billion-dollar company to run and isn’t jealous of the time and work that requires. Maybe because they have a career that’s all-consuming and financially rewarding too?” She glances at the box meaningfully. “Someone who wants to see you thrive but won’t let you step on them to get ahead. Someone who will help you without your asking for help, because you will never ask. Someone who sees what’s important to you and takes care of it.”
She places the envelope front and center on my desk, putting her fingertip on it. “Like the gala. It’s your pet project, the baby of your heart, and everyone knows it. Apparently, that includes Riggs and Maddox.”
She closes the door behind her as she leaves, and I stare, not at the envelope, but at the note.
This gift isn’t like the flowers or lingerie, nor is it some easy send of their excess merch. It was thoughtful and considered in a deeper way, and like Angeline said, it’s as though they see me and what’s important to me. Ironically, that’s the thing that makes me feel the most vulnerable, and that’s a scary sensation, especially for someone like me who prefers to be in control of every piece on the chess board. Though that comes with its own pros and cons.
Like Maddox’s dachshund, I had a pet as a child too. A betta fish that refused to actually stay in the big aquatic home I diligently kept perfect for her with fresh water and a clean filter. Belle was constantly jumping out to flop around on the floor, gasping for air. She was beautiful in the water, all grace and floating fins, but she fought being caged at every turn, wanting freedom at any cost—even if it was painful, even if it’d ultimately kill her. Which it did. I found her on my floor after school one day, her gills no longer gasping, but free all the same.