by Ellis, Aven
But he’s wrong about himself.
And right now, I don’t give a damn if my timing isn’t perfect and I’m not saying the right things. I throw perfectionism aside and speak from my heart.
“What about you? You’re so terrified of letting me down that you are holding on to disappointment as some kind of freaking safety shield,” I say, the words coming out in a sob. “You don’t even see that you’ve never let me down, not once, and you’re so afraid to fall in love with me that you are using this as an excuse to run.”
Brooks takes a step back. “You’re wrong,” he says, his voice shaking with anger.
“I’m not,” I insist, taking a step toward him. “Have you been waiting for me to turn into Isla? Have you? So the first time I utter the word disappointed you’re going to leave me? To protect yourself?”
“How can I use a bloody safety shield when I’ve already fallen in love with you?” Brooks shouts back.
I gasp. He admitted he loves me. Brooks has fallen in love with me, just as I have with him.
“Brooks,” I say, reaching for him.
But Brooks jumps back as if I’m about to hurt him, just like the wounded animals he treats at the clinic.
And I know whatever love he has for me has been destroyed by what he overheard, my stupid perfectionist tendencies, and the ghost of his past.
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Payton, but I can’t.”
And then he turns and walks away, leaving me alone.
CHAPTER 28
*Mental Note* Today’s plan to improve myself item (cont.): I don’t need to be perfect. I need to be me. And starting right here, right now, I’m going to do just that.
***
Tears blur my eyes as Brooks walks away. I know he’s shut down and pulled back, but I also know one very important thing.
He loves me.
I watch as he eventually cuts across the street, going to his SUV. Brooks climbs inside and drives off, never turning back.
My heart might be shattered. But my hope isn’t.
I take a deep breath of air, thoughts swirling like crazy in my head. I think of all the words we shouted at each other, and I know we’re both right about some things.
I’m right that he’s terrified, but not of falling in love with me like I first thought. Brooks has already allowed his vulnerable heart to do that. But he was terrified of losing me. And when he heard me say I was disappointed, his past grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. His reactions were driven by fear, and now he’s convinced he’s better off alone than to risk losing me in the future.
Which is stupid.
And I’m going to tell him so.
But I need to face up to my own stupidity first.
My face burns hot as I know he’s right about my perfectionist self.
I walk down the sidewalk and find an empty bench. I sink down in it, drawing a breath of air as I come to terms with my own shortcomings.
For so long, I was convinced I needed to fit into my family’s catalog-ordered version of life. However, my own independent spirit didn’t follow the path they wanted, and I’ve spent the past two years of my life trying to convince them how perfect blogging is for me. Trying to be as good as Sophie in my own way and over and over running on the hamster wheel while squeaking out, “Look! But it is perfect! It’s perfect for me, you’ll see and you’ll accept it!”
I force down the lump in my throat as I realize I was not necessarily trying to be perfect for me, but trying to be perfect so I could please them. Because they all live in what they consider an ordered and perfect life, down to the coasters turned the perfect way on an end table. Or us all dressing alike for the annual family holiday card, which Mom spends months perfecting the idea for each year. They love this perfect bubble they live in, and everything I’ve done is to try and please them while living outside their order.
It’s all bullshit.
Nothing is perfect.
Not even my job. When readers post that I’m an idiot, it hurts. Or that my taste in fashion is stupid and boring, it stings. That’s not perfect. When an advertiser drops me, my bottom line suffers.
But it’s what I love.
I’m working hard to be as successful as I can. I can pay my bills. I’m happy in my apartment with Whitney. I have a plan for the future, and it is bright.
This is what matters.
And it’s time to tell my family so.
I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes, but I know I have raccoon face because I didn’t use waterproof mascara today. Not perfect. Don’t care.
I stand up and walk back into the restaurant, and instead of feeling anxious about this confrontation, I feel calm. At peace. I know what I’m going to say, and I’m finally brave enough to say it.
All because of Brooks.
He has given me insight into myself. Loving him has opened my eyes. It’s made me stronger. Brooks has given me the freedom to be myself, in all my imperfect glory.
I pull open the door to the restaurant, and take my seat at the table. Everyone stops talking as soon as I sit down, so I know Brooks and I have obviously been the topic of conversation.
“Honey, are you okay?” Mom asks.
“No, I’m not,” I say truthfully. “Brooks just broke up with me.”
“What? Over that?” Sophie asks, incredulous.
“Yes, over the fear that he’ll always disappoint me,” I say truthfully. “Thanks to hearing our conversation at this table, which I’m embarrassed he caught. Because I didn’t even finish saying what I was going to say, which was while I’m disappointed he had to leave, I understand it. This is his calling. He’s a veterinarian. It doesn’t matter what the animal is, if he’s on call he’s going to help. And yes, that might mean he misses Christmas dinner or arrives late to a wedding reception, but I don’t care. I don’t care. You might, but it’s not your life. It’s mine.”
I pause for a moment. I’ve never spoken like this to them in my life, so everyone is staring at me as if I’ve walked off a spaceship and someone else is controlling my brain.
“What matters to me is that I have a man who loves me, supports me, and believes in my dreams with all his heart,” I say, my voice cracking. “And if that means he misses pudding, so what? I don’t care.”
“Pudding?” Dad asks, creasing his brow.
“That doesn’t matter,” I say, moving on. “Our life won’t be picture perfect, but nothing is. Just like your house, Mom. No matter how many items you order from a catalog, it never looks like a catalog picture because it’s not real life. Nobody lives in those pictures. At least I don’t.”
“What?” Mom asks, a lost expression passing over her face. “Payton, are you all right? You aren’t making any sense.”
“I am making complete sense,” I say, my voice rising. “For the last time, I’m a professional blogger. My choice. I don’t ever want to hear about how I’m on a gap year or how I’m ridiculous ever again. I know you are saying these things out of concern, but you are hurting me when you do.”
“Payton, you’re all over the place in this conversation,” Sophie says. “You’re upset, I understand that, but you aren’t speaking clearly.”
“Yes, I am!” I yell, not giving a damn that I’m in a restaurant. People pause and glance over at our table, and I force myself to lower my voice. “I am me. I am a blogger and a concierge. I am supporting myself. I’m not going to become you, no matter how much Mom and Dad want me to. I’m imperfect. My job is imperfect. But this is who I am, and I’m not changing. For so long I tried to be perfect for you. I’m done with that. I’m going to be me.”
“Honey, we don’t want you to completely change,” Dad says. “We merely want stability for you.”
“You want me to follow in Sophie’s path,” I argue back. “I’m not Sophie. I’m Payton. I’m proud of Sophie and how brilliant she is and how she might save lives with her medications. That’s a tremendous thing. But that’s not my thing. It never will be. I’m going
to follow my own path, and hopefully with Brooks by my side.”
“After two weeks you know this?” Mom asks.
“Yes, I do,” I say with conviction, as I believe the words with all my heart. “I don’t expect you to approve or understand, but I’m done with seeking your approval. You raised me to be smart and capable and to have good judgment.” I pause for a moment, as I grow emotional. “And I love all of you for that,” I say, the words choking up in my throat. “But it’s time to let me go live it.”
Nobody says a word. I see Mom is fighting back tears, and Dad is, too.
“I’m sorry this all happened on your birthday, Dad,” I say, tears filling my eyes. “But I had to say it.”
Dad pauses for a moment and clears his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry we made you feel that way. I won’t say another word because you’re right. You do make good choices, even if they aren’t the ones I would make for you.”
“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper.
“And I know your mother will agree,” he says, giving her a look.
Mom simply seems shell-shocked by the bomb I dropped.
“Right,” she nods automatically.
Anna, our server, walks up to the table, a cautious look on her face. “Um . . . are you all ready to order?”
“I need to go,” I say, standing up. “You all have a nice meal, and I’ll come over for dinner soon.”
“How are you getting home?” Tanner asks.
“I can walk. It’s nice out,” I say.
I rise and kiss Dad on the cheek, and do the same to Mom.
“Bye, Sophie, Tanner,” I say. “Give Connor a kiss for me.”
I leave them behind, feeling as if I’ve lifted a heavy weight off my back. I stood up for myself and defined very clearly who I am. I’m not perfect. I don’t fit in the mold they want for me, but I don’t care.
I embraced being myself.
And it feels amazing.
I’m walking down the sidewalk when I hear my name.
“Payton!”
I stop dead in my tracks and turn around, shocked to see Sophie coming after me.
“Sophie?” I ask, hesitantly.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “I’m so sorry for all the shit I’ve given you about blogging. And for dismissing that you could fall for Brooks so fast.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“What?”
Sophie draws a breath of air and exhales. “The truth is, I’m jealous of you. I always have been.”
“Of me?” I ask in shock.
Sophie runs her hand through her lobbed blonde hair, and she seems very uncomfortable right now.
“This isn’t easy for me to admit,” she says quietly. “But I always followed the path that was suggested. I was told I was good in science, so I studied that. I picked up languages well, so I became president of the Spanish club. Whatever I excelled at, I did, even if I didn’t love it because it made sense.”
My chest grows tight. I now understand she had a completely different burden to bear.
“I never tried to go outside the box I was put in,” Sophie admits. “Probably because I was afraid. Afraid I’d fail. Afraid I’d disappoint Mom and Dad. But you—you’re fearless. You do what you want, screw what other people think. And I’ve always envied—and admired— that in you.”
I’m so stunned I can’t even speak.
“So, I’m sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. And while I still don’t understand the appeal of Kate’s clothing, and I probably never will, you probably don’t understand my desire to become a massage therapist, either.”
My mouth falls open. “You want to be a massage therapist?”
Sophie blushes. “I know, right? My job is to save the world with conventional medicines, but I’m fascinated by acupuncture and massage therapy, too. Bringing calm to myself and others. I think I’d like to do that.”
I smile broadly at Sophie. “Then I think you should.”
Suddenly I feel a new bond between us, one that is formed from finally admitting the truth.
Sophie reaches for me and gives me a hug. “I do love you, even if I act like a complete bitch about it.”
I hug her back and laugh. “I know you do. And I love you, too.”
“Do you want to get coffee this weekend?” Sophie asks hopefully.
Warmth fills me. “Yeah, I do. And bring Connor. I can’t get enough of his cute face.”
Sophie nods. “I’ll text you.” Then she smiles at me. “And don’t give up on Brooks. That man loves you.”
I nod and watch her walk away.
Brooks does love me. I know that with all my heart.
In the past, I would have consulted my friends for the perfect advice about our argument. Or grabbed a relationship book off my nightstand, desperately trying to find the “right” way to resolve this.
Now I know they can’t give me perfection.
Nobody can.
I know who I am now. I’ll make mistakes, but that’s okay. I won’t be flawless.
But one thing I’m absolutely certain of.
I’m the perfect person to figure out how to reach Brooks.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
CHAPTER 29
Today’s plan to improve myself item (cont.): This is my last time ever writing a way to improve myself. While I’ll always want to be better, I no longer have to be perfect. And my new perfect means not logging these ideas every day, not setting these standards in ink, and living my life with mistakes and imperfections included.
And I fully intend to live this life with Brooks by my side.
***
I walk up to my apartment building later that night. I have my phone in my hand, and the whole time I’ve been gone there've been no messages or calls from Brooks. Not that I expected any. Brooks is angry and defensive and pulled into his shell. But after tonight, I know how I’m going to reach him.
I open the door to the building and head up the stairs. As I reach the landing, I’m shocked to see there is someone waiting for me outside my door.
It’s Brooks.
I can’t breathe. He’s sitting against the wall, and his eyes immediately lock with mine as soon as he hears me on the stairs. I don’t know how long he’s been here, as Whitney went back to Portland to visit her parents, but he’s here.
Waiting for me.
Brooks rises and I start walking toward him. My heart is pounding against my ribs and my throat grows thick with unshed tears.
“I realize I never gave you that interview about pets for urban dwellers,” he says softly, his brandy-colored eyes locked on mine. “I recommend rabbits.”
I don’t dare speak. Brooks continues.
“Did you know,” he says, his voice growing thick, “that they can be anxious around people? Afraid? They can growl and nip when they feel scared. They can shy away in complete fear. But with time and patience, you can get them to come around.”
A sob escapes my throat.
He’s talking about himself.
Brooks clears his throat, and I see his eyes have grown watery.
“What I’m saying is, please don’t give up on me, Payton. Please don’t.”
Tears are now falling from my eyes, and Brooks slowly steps forward. I reach for him, and the first thing he does is cup my face in his strong hands.
“I had no idea I could fall in love like this,” he whispers to me. “But I did. It was fast. It was out of the blue. And nothing in my life has felt as right as being with you.”
He pauses for a moment. “I love you, Payton. I thought I loved Isla as much as I could love a woman, but I was wrong. I love you in ways I didn’t know were possible. And each day I discover something new to love about you. You’re my best friend. My partner. You make me laugh. You love me despite my crazy hours. You support me. And I love you for all these reasons and at least a thousand more.”
“I feel the same way,” I say through my t
ears. “I love you, Brooks. I’ve never loved anyone until I met you. You’re my everything. You believe in me. Teach me things about myself. And you have such a huge and compassionate heart. And I’m so glad you’re the first man—the only man—I’ll ever love.”
“I’m so sorry about earlier,” Brooks whispers as he caresses my face. “I was terrified I was going to lose you. Disappointment was the first step. And like a rabbit, I became skittish. I retreated. I clawed back at you. I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“I do know,” I say, putting my shaking hands on his dress shirt. “Because I know you. I love you. I love your career. And while I might be disappointed you have to leave me sometimes for it, I know you’ll come home to me. And that’s what matters the most.”
“There is no one else I ever want to come home to,” Brooks says, clasping his hand over mine, right over his heart. “You’re forever for me.”
It’s all I can do not to burst into tears.
I take a moment to swallow down the lump in my throat before speaking.
“I spent the last few hours at Coffee By Jules,” I say quietly. “I went to that same table where we had our first date. I ordered a green tea latte and thought about how I could reach you. How I could make you see how much I love you.”
I watch as Brooks fights back tears.
“I was thinking, and my eyes wandered to the bookshelf next to me. And I saw a book that said Peonies,” I explain. “So I pulled it out and there was a huge peony on the front, like those ridiculous blooms on Sylvia’s wallpaper. I opened it up and I don’t know why, but I read the passage on peonies. How young peonies take time to grow. They need sunshine and full-drained soil to thrive. You give them the right soil. Shelter them from strong winds. You tend to them. Help the stems. Deadhead them.
“And I got it, Brooks,” I explain. “That is what Sylvia meant when she said love is like a garden. You are always growing it. Tending to it. Caring for it when it’s damaged or sick. Helping it thrive. But when all these things come together and bloom, it’s an amazing thing. And that’s how I feel about you. About what we have. Our relationship is blooming. It will be hard work, we’ll need shelter from storms, but it will thrive. And there’s nobody on earth I’d rather share a garden with than you.”
