Page 70 of The False Flat

“Explain.”

I wasn’t sure he’d understand. My eyes closed. “I don’t think I’m capable of loving, at least not how I’m supposed to.”

“Same thing.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him, uncomprehending. “How is that the same thing?”

“Sometimes, when you find the right person to love you, reciprocation is automatic.” Grant rocked forward and, in a surprisingly smooth maneuver, propped himself up on his knees, bringing his face closer to mine.

It irritated me that he was minimizing my major life flaw. I always picked the wrong person, the married person, the person I could never truly love because it was easier. If I didn’t really love someone, then I couldn’t be hurt when the relationship ended, could I?

“It’s not that simple,” I said.

“Have you heard of Holi?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a festival they have every year in India. It’s why I like this color ride. They do this sort of thing, throw color around. People come together and forget all the wrong done to them, all the bad things, all the negativity. They celebrate unification. I’ve been. And every single person there was smiling because they’d let it all go.

“It’s okay to let yourself feel grief and sorrow, but it’s also okay to let it go, to let people in, to let all kinds of people love you and be loved in return. A lot of people will hurt you, but when you find love, friendship, a good hairstylist, whatever, it’s worth it. And life isn’t worth living if you don’t take risks.”

“How do you—”

He touched my cheek like he could distinguish tears from raindrops. “I’ve been thinking about this stuff ever since you told me about your brother. I won’t pretend to completely understand, but I’ve been where you are, that headspace where life seems impossible. I think these are the things I would’ve wanted to hear, that I eventually learned.”

I collected the thoughts scattered around my head as I held my hand up. I watched each swell of water hit my palm and scatter the dirt clinging to my skin as I wondered . . . wondered about Grant and what made him unlike anyone I’d ever known.

I’d been with good men. I’d stayed with them because they made me feel safe and comfortable, but they were safe because I knew I’d never love them. They were comfortable because I wasn’t completely alone. As soon as they wanted more, I got out. I’d tried to change that with Chad, convince myself I was capable of commitment, only to discover that I wasn’t actually changing. I was trying to put a puzzle together with missing pieces, or rather, the wrong pieces entirely.

The rain stopped, and as suddenly as it had left, the sun returned. The loss of privacy stung. Now our conversation seemed spotlighted by the sun, something I couldn’t hide from.

In the distance, riders filed out of the shelter. I wondered how we would explain our mud-caked appearances.

I nodded, and Grant helped me to my feet, our conversation over just like that. I wanted to pull him back, stop him from leading me forward, back to the others, back to Elaine. I wanted the rain to start again. I wanted to kiss him again. I needed more time right here.

My heart ached because I knew what he’d said was true. Wasn’t that why I’d moved in the first place? A reckoning. I hadn’t been sure what all I needed to change, just that I couldn’t keep going the way I’d been, repeating the same grayscale pattern, a stagnant life, devoid of color and vibrancy. And here I was doing the same thing over again, kissing a man who belonged to someone else. But this time, I was certain of this man’s relationship status.

Even though I was sick with guilt—because I didn’t regret kissing him as much as I should’ve—I shoved the corners of my mouth upward when Deanna ran up. As she asked questions and scanned our clothes, inside I told myself the only reason I’d wanted to kiss Grant was because he was off limits. I told myself he was like every other relationship I’d had: a safeguard against real hurt, someone I couldn’t ever truly love.

What I wouldn’t let myself focus on was the thought that came on the heels of the first, one much scarier than the idea that he was like everyone else.

The one that told me he wasn’t.

CHAPTER 27

LIFE REALIZATION #12: BREATHING ISN’T ALWAYS AUTOMATIC

“No, I think we should leave your money right where it is,” I said into the six little holes on my office phone as I clicked my nails against the glass of my desk. “Your investments are more than safe, Myra. They’re expanding at a healthy rate. Let your friend take the gamble if he wants, but I’d advise him against it too. I don’t think it’ll turn out the way he hopes.”

That was all my client needed to hear.

I loved this. My business. My clients. My expertise. Finally happening. I’d come to Nashville around five months ago with a rough sketch, and I’d drawn and erased a frenzy of lines on repeat, but over the past several weeks, Erin had been helping me fill in the scene, until we’d nearly drawn something recognizable.

It never got old, that feeling of faith, people putting their hard-earned cash in my hands and trusting I’d make it grow. I always made it grow.

No one could take that feeling away from me now that I owned it personally.

I turned back to my desk, my muscles prepared for an inelegant victory dance, but when my eyes landed on the doorway, it was my heart that performed a rather enthusiastic gymnastic routine. Grant was holding a bouquet of flowers just inside my door, with Erin grinning behind him.