Why would I even suggest that she was hiding someone?
Probably because with each passing day that goes by, I feel more possessive over her. I feel the need to show her how much I care about her. How much I want her in my life.
Yet every time she brings up the word love, I fucking freeze.
I become so self-aware of my inadequacies that I don’t know what to do other than to not say a goddamn word.
Because how could she love me? She’s so much more than I’ll ever be. She’s so smart, so loving, so open to giving her heart. And every day, when I wake up with her in my arms, I wonder how I get so goddamn lucky to be able to spend my days with her, even when she’s acting out or fighting with me.
I’m the one who’s fucked up.
I’m the one who could easily mess this up.
I’m the one who needs to figure out how the hell to be in a relationship.
Hating myself for being so goddamn stupid, I kick my shoes off and place them in the closet before hanging all the coats back up. When I turn toward the living room, I spot one of my dress shoes on the windowsill.
What the hell is it doing there . . . and what is that in it?
She’s . . . planted something in it.
What the fuck?
I pick up the shoe and examine the expensive leather that is now full of soil and . . . yup, she watered it.
I put the shoe back down because I’m not sure there’s much I can do about that at the moment. Instead, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Posey.
“I just left you. You miss me that much?” he answers.
“Dude, I keep fucking up.”
“What did you do this time?”
I pace the living room while pulling on my hair continuously. “Accused her of hiding a man in the closet.”
“What?” He chuckles. “What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in your apartment. Between the insane fights you get in, and the weird things she does around the place like hide the remote control from you—”
“Found it in the freezer, by the way.”
“I just think it’s a goddamn fun house over there. So what made you think she was hiding a man in the closet?”
“She was acting suspiciously when I got home and slammed the door to the closet and then acted like I shouldn’t go in there. When I confronted her about it, she finally said I could go in. I had my hand cocked at my side, ready to plow my fist through whoever was in there, but when I opened it, all I saw were all the jackets on the ground.”
“Weird. What was she doing?”
“No goddamn clue, but I did just find one of my shoes on the windowsill with a plant in it.”
“Ha, really?”
I grow serious. “Dude, she brought up the I love you.” I heave out a sigh as I sit on the couch and prop my feet up on the coffee table.
“Oh hell, really? I’m assuming since you called me, you didn’t say it back.”
“I didn’t. I fucking just stood there, staring at her. She, of course, vanished after that, so I’m really doing a good job at life right now.”
“What the hell is your problem? Don’t you love her?”
“I mean . . . I don’t know, Posey. I can’t fucking even remember what love is at this point. How can I say it to her if I don’t even know what it is? What I do know is that I’m obsessed with her, even when she’s planting something in my shoes.” I drag my hand over my face. “I’m so fucked in the head over this. And it’s only getting worse. I feel like every day that goes by, she’s becoming more and more agitated with me. And also . . . she seems sad.”
“Could it just be the pregnancy?”
“Possibly, but I don’t think I’m helping the situation. The only thing that’s keeping me calm, that’s reminding me that I won’t lose her, is when we go to sleep at night. She sleeps on my chest, using my body to help keep her comfortable. It keeps me feeling connected, recharged, ready for—” I pause as my eyes focus on the pictures on the right-hand side of the fireplace. “What the fuck?”
“What? Is there another shoe with a plant in it?”
“No,” I answer as I head to the pictures. “She . . . she covered my pictures with Lewis, Farwell, and Kavinsky, with what I’m assuming are her own drawings of a penis being aroused by a pregnant woman, only to be passed up and sad again.”
Posey laughs out loud, the boisterous sound filling the phone. “Oh shit, I’m going to need a picture of those.”
“Why would she do that?”