Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)(71)
“Wow.” I try to process everything he just said, not fully being able to imagine that kind of life. And to be honest, if I were in Will’s shoes, I can’t say I would feel differently about relationships either. It would be difficult to jump into one when he’s seen so much pain around the one relationship that was supposed to be stable for him.
“The really sad part is, my parents are doing better now, because after my brother and I were out of the house, they finally got a divorce. They said they had always stayed together for us—and we should be grateful they gave us that time as a complete family unit. How messed up is that?”
“That’s rough. Do you ever see them now?”
“Occasionally, but not often. I don’t have any desire to hang out with them for a full weekend and pretend that my childhood didn’t nearly destroy me. And I’m not brave enough to actually fight with them over it either. So I just avoid them.”
“I don’t blame you, Will. I wouldn’t want to either.” My eyes trace the lines of his face, and I feel a protective anger rise up toward anyone who would ever dare treat him like he wasn’t the most wonderful person in the world. Like he wasn’t precious and valuable. “How long were you in the military?”
“Six years active duty, two in the reserves. I served as a Security Forces specialist.”
“You didn’t like it?”
He shrugs lightly. “Sort of. It was mentally and physically draining, and it left very little room for living life outside of it. I was ready for something different by the end. I have a friend who introduced me to the agency I’m with now, and I started training with them while I was in the reserves. The rest is history. I already had plenty of hand-to-hand combat training from my military career, but with the agency I was also trained in evasive driving and other various weaponry courses.”
“Does that mean you carry a gun?”
“Not to guard celebrities. Mainly when protecting politicians or people with a high-threat level. You have to have clearance for it.”
Suddenly I think of Will in one of those high-threat-level jobs and having to use a weapon or be faced with someone else using one, and my arms instinctively tighten around him. “Have you ever regretted not going to MIT and choosing a different career path?”
There’s a loaded pause that I don’t miss. “I don’t think I like the word regret. Every choice I’ve made has been valuable in some way or other. And the fact is, if I had gone to MIT back then, I probably would have kept striving for academic perfection and returning home when I shouldn’t. But the military forced me to get that space I needed—if that makes sense. It was somewhere my parents and their drama couldn’t easily reach me.”
My eyes drop to his arm. His flowers. I trace my finger over the petals. “So you were hiding in the tree from your parents.”
“Yes,” he says as his fingers trail down my neck and to the exposed skin where my pajama top has gaped open over my shoulder. His touch grazes my book tattoo and I feel the smile in his fingertip. “So does that answer all your questions, Miss Inquisitive?”
“Not yet.”
He groans.
“Tell me about your brother. What’s he like? Is he antirelationship too?”
“My brother used to feel like I do. Against the entire idea of marriage and like we’re better off without it…until recently.”
“What happened recently?”
“He met someone and just got engaged.” He pauses, and we only stare at each other for a minute—unspoken thoughts and feelings running like currents through the air. “I’ve been avoiding his calls because I can’t bring myself to tell him I’m happy for him. Does that make me the shittiest brother in the world?”
“No. I think it means you have a lot of hurt still, and I’m willing to bet he probably understands.”
Will grins and pushes a piece of my hair back from my face. “You see too much good in me, Annie. There’s a very real possibility, you know, that I am just a very selfish asshole who uses women and lives according to my own whims just because I like life better that way.”
I hum lightly and close my eyes, feeling exhaustion press over me again. “That’s what you’d like me and everyone else to think.”
Suddenly I feel Will’s thumb trace my lower lip. “It’s time to take off those rose-colored glasses, sunshine.”
I tuck my chin and snuggle in closer to his stomach because he gave me permission and also because it feels so nice to do this. To just be close to someone and gain the affection I’ve been craving for so long without any pressure or fear of him not being the right one for me. “Not a chance. I love how pretty the world looks with them. You’re a good guy, Will—I really hope you know that.”
“Harriet would disagree. She thought I was making meth with your cold medicine.”
I begin to doze in this lazy comfort. “It’s the tattoos. She’s always hated them. You should have seen how mad she got when she found out that Noah has a tattoo. Wouldn’t let him buy anything besides vegetables from the market for a week.”
“And what do you think about my tattoos now that you’ve really seen them?” he says, running the back of his knuckles against my jaw and hair. I’ve never been more comfortable with anyone in my entire life.