Page 159 of Score
“I’m staying for Tessa, yes,” Verity says. “But it will also be good for me. I realized things were slipping, but that hypomania sometimes feels… well, like I said, it’s good until it goes bad. I’ve been so terrified I would never write anything great again, and then all of a sudden, I have all thisenergy and creativity and the world is a fucking rainbow and I ride into every room on a unicorn.”
Despite the distress clear on her face, I chuckle at her description, which gains a half smile from Verity.
“Even now, it’s like I’m vibrating.” She closes her eyes and bites her lip. “Like I can feel the blood singing through my veins. And I see the story I need to tell everywhere I look. Writing went from getting blood out of a rock to plucking low-hanging fruit right off a tree. The story feels like it’s plastered to the walls inside my brain.”
“I can see how that would be hard to let go.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, hiding her face from me, but she can’t hide the tears soaking my shirt. “I didn’t want to scare you away, to freak you out.”
“I wasn’t freaking out.” I pull back, lift her chin so we’re looking into each other’s eyes. So I can see her and she can see the truth in my eyes and my answer. “What scared me was it happening and you not getting what you needed, you not trusting me with it.”
“We’re just getting started and I didn’t want this to ruin what we’re rebuilding.”
“Nothing’s ruined.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Iknowbetter. It just got away from me.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. This is a complicated situation. One you’ve been dealing with—and really well—for years. I remember you saying stress and lack of sleep can contribute to this happening. Don’t forget you’ve been working on the biggest project of your career and trying to develop something new for this overall deal.”
I bend to kiss her hair.
“All that combined with the confusion of the love of your life reentering the picture,” I say with a straight face. “I mean, I know the sex is phenomenal, but that’s just one more thing to deal with.”
She snickers and pinches my arm, but doesn’t otherwise respond.
“Are you laughing at me being the love of your life, or me saying the sex is phenomenal?” I ask, only half joking.
“Youarethe love of my life,” she says, her expression sober, but some humor lighting her eyes.
I wait for the second part, and when she doesn’t confirm the sex is phenomenal, I press her back into the couch.
“Don’t make me prove how good the sex is,” I mutter into the curve of her neck.
She giggles like I hoped she would, arching into the gentle kisses I leave along her collarbone. This won’t be the last time we deal with this, and I want her to know it doesn’t have to feel like an existential crisis. I trace the sleek line of her brow with my thumb. She stills, closes her eyes, leans into the contact like my touch is exactly what she needs.
“You know,” she says, eyes still closed. “I was sitting at Tessa’s side, and all I could think was that I almost lost my best friend.” She looks down at her hands. “And then I kept imagining you sitting where I was. You worried that I was dead or had done something stupid. That’s not the life I want for you, Monk.”
“Youare the life I want.” I lift her face so our eyes have no choice but to lock on each other. “You tell me I get to have you, but this is what we’ll navigate, I’ll take it. No questions asked. I got shit we’ll have to navigate, too. Things you’ll have to put up with from me.”
“Like your snoring?” she deadpans.
“Dammit, I had a cold!”
We both laugh, letting the moment lift as we lay in the security of each other’s arms.
“I have a lot to learn about bipolar,” I say, serious now. “But I know it doesn’t go away. It’s for the rest of our lives.”
She lifts her head from my chest, peering up at me tentatively.
“Ourlives?”
“That alright with you?” I ask, tensing, but forcing myself to wait, to give her space to articulate whatever is turning over in that beautiful brain of hers.
“I love you, Monk. God, so much and for so long.” A tear streaks over one smooth cheek. “But I don’t… what if we don’t want the same things?”
My heart stutters and my hand automatically seeks hers, squeezing like that will stop her from leaving me.
“You don’t…” I clear my throat of the disappointment, the fear that makes it hard to speak. “You don’t want to be with me?”
