Page 65 of Only and Forever
I’m far from being able to force even the faintest smile as I walk into the kitchen and grab a seltzer. Sinking onto the sofa, I set the can on one of Viggo’s crocheted coasters, then pick up my e-reader. We’ll read quietly. The animals will lie around us, and I will soak up that comfort until my eyes get tired and I can finally sleep deeply, in my bed. In my home, for now.
But Viggo seems to have other plans. He glances up, does a double take when he sees me on the sofa, then tugs off his headphones. “Hey there.”
A smile is still beyond me, but I lift the corner of my mouth, trying my best. “Hey.”
Viggo taps his phone, pausing his audiobook, then pulls his headphones off his neck and sets them on the coffee table. The gray kitten meows loudly and he picks it up, holding it on his chest. “How you doing, Lu?”
I bite my lip as a lump thickens my throat.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
“Eh.” I shrug. “Not great. But I’ll be okay.”
He rocks steadily, petting the kitten. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not all of it,” I say quietly, my gaze drawn by the white kitten, who makes the leap up onto the sofa and prances toward me, onto my lap. I pet her gently. Her fur is fluffy and soft, her tiny body so delicate. “But... a little.”
Viggo angles the rocker my way, tiny scooches that rotate himtoward me, careful of the dogs’ tails and the three other kittens milling around. “I’m all ears.”
“My parents... I’m assuming you know their history?”
“Just the bare bones. Multiple marriages and divorces. Messy.”
I huff an empty laugh. “ ‘Messy’ is the word.”
Viggo is quiet, watching me, waiting.
“I had a call with them,” I tell him. “After... I left the bookstore. They told me they’re done for good. I believe them. And, uh... well, I was expecting to be relieved, just so ready to have it done and over, no more mess. But, turns out, it still made a mess of things.” I swallow thickly, trying to steady my voice. “Inside of me.”
Viggo stands with the kitten, joining me on the sofa. Not too close, but closer. “I’m sorry, Lula.”
I shrug. “That’s okay. Life is messy. I don’t like it to be, but it is.” I shut my eyes so tears won’t spill over. “I’m not surprised my parents are finally calling it quits for good, but how they talked about it, just... hit me hard. It’s got me reevaluating things, reassessing the... direction of parts of my life. I think that’s all I want to say for now.”
His hand wraps around mine, warm and sure. “You’re brave, you know that, right?”
I bite my lip. Keep my eyes shut. Tears leak out anyway. “How?”
“Because,” he says quietly, “not everyone has a day like you had two days ago and ends up where you’ve ended up—willing to let something hard not harden you but instead shape you for the better.”
The cat curls up in my lap, and I stare down at it, so small, so trusting, so vulnerable. I curve my hand gently down its bony spine. “Thank you.”
Viggo smiles. He squeezes my hand, then lets go. “You know how I talked last year, about us being accountability partners—me with the store, you with the book?”
I nod. “I certainly didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.”
“Not my point, you stinker. Listen up.”
I glance his way, and I’m riveted by those beautiful pale eyes, locked on me. “I didn’t,” he says, “exactly hold up mine, either.”
I frown. “What do you mean? We’re living in your dream brought to life.”
“Well...” He draws out the word, settling lower in the sofa with the gray kitten. The orange one jumps up and joins the cuddle fest, too. “Sort of. But, the truth is, I’ve dragged out this process much longer than I needed to. I’ve hemmed and hawed and fussed because it was safer to stay in limbo, telling myself I was pursuing my dream without actually putting it out there for anyone to see, to possibly disparage; to watch it fail if it didn’t do well, a prospect which obviously terrified me.”
I blink at him, processing his words, stunned by them. “You just... seem so confident about all of this. Your dream. Your future. Your romance books. Everything.”
“I was, until I started trying to live it all. Now...” He peers down at the kittens curled up on his chest. “Now I just feel like all this buildup, creating something I believe in, has led me to a height I didn’t realize I’d be so afraid of. So, I’ve stalled. Because I’m scared to jump. Just like, I think, maybe you’ve been scared to jump, too.”
It’s not the first time he’s said this, implied I’m afraid of something. But for once, I don’t disagree with him. Because he’s right. I am afraid. “Yeah,” I whisper.