Juliette didn’t keep me waiting. With a certainty that soothed the worry I’d felt since waking up to her crying in my arms, Juliette grabbed my hand and held it tight.
I used that hand to flip her to her back before I followed on top of her. I pressed my body against hers, chest to toes touching, leaning on my forearms just enough to avoid crushing her. I lowered my face to hers until our lips were a breath apart. I bit back the words that were fighting to come out: I love you. Instead I made slow, sweet love to her, hoping she could feel the love in every caress and kiss, every thrust and touch.
16
Juliette
Dylan and I sat at his table, eggs and fruit finished a while ago, lost in easy conversation, enraptured by the magic of this morning.
“Tell me what it was like for you growing up? The real, gritty version.” Dylan’s captivating eyes searched mine. “I want to know what made you the person you are today.” He looked down at the table, and I held my breath waiting for him to meet my eyes again. “I want to understand you better so I don’t wake up to you crying again, or if you do cry, I need to know how to help you.”
Wow. That was a heavy question. But after what we shared this morning, I was ready to open every door, window, and curtain to my soul for this man. I was ready to allow the connection, the love, the possibilities between us, to burst my walls wide open. I wanted to take the love he was offering and hold on to it with both hands. His was the kind of love that wouldallow me to be more vulnerable than I’ve ever been with anyone before because I trusted him, not only to accept what I showed him, but to hold me together when I opened myself up to all the broken parts I’ve tried so hard to ignore.
“Okay. There’s a lot to me, you know. I can’t tell you everything in one shot.” I was trying to lighten the mood, but it came out more nervous than playful.
“Of course,” Dylan replied with a smile. “Truly knowing a person takes a lifetime of working at it. That’s what a good relationship is all about. Just give me some glimpses into you to begin with. A jump start.”
While I put my thoughts in order, I poured us each a second cup of coffee. I tried to ignore the shaking in my hands, but I knew Dylan saw it. He saw everything. He took the mug out of my trembling hand, put it down, and silently pulled me into a hug. I let his scent calm my frayed nerves.It’ll be okay. I trust Dylan to make it okay.“I’m okay.” He kissed me sweetly on the forehead before releasing me.
“I know you are. Strong as fuck.” He poured a drop of half-and-half into his coffee, and a little more into mine, then carried them both into the living room.
I followed him and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, facing him. I took a deep breath and quickly started talking before I could overthink it.
“Okay. I guess I’ll go chron-chrono…” Shit, not a good start. “By age,” I finished. “Elementary school was fairly easy. My speech was really bad back then, but I was so shy I only spoke to a couple of friends anyway, and I didn’t really care too much about anyone else.
“Then I started middle school, and everything changed. I was in a conversation with a group of kids I knew, but not that well. I said something—I don’t remember what we were even talking about. I was still shy, so I probably didn’t say more thana few words—but one girl looked at another and said, ‘Did you get that?’ and she said no, then she turned to someone else and asked, ‘Didyouunderstand her?’ They were all asking and saying no and shrugging at one another, until finally someone picked the conversation back up like I never spoke at all. That was the last time I spoke in a group conversation.”
“Assholes,” he growled.
I took a sip of coffee before continuing. It was easier to keep talking now that I’d started. “In gym class one day, there was a baseball game the kids were all taking so seriously. My team had two outs. I was up at bat and already had two strikes, and there were only a few minutes left in the period. I guess the rule was that it only counted as a strike if you swung, because my team started yelling at me to not swing the bat. So I just stood there at the plate watching the balls go by me. My team yelling not to swing. The other team yelling to swing. Everyone’s eyes were on me. Everyone knew there was no way in hell I could hit the ball. I was just hoping the period would end, and already dreading all the rest of the gym classes that would be in my future. Eventually, the pitcher managed to throw a ball that hit the bat exactly where it was without me swinging. We lost the game.
“I hated having to talk out loud in class. Luckily, most of my teachers knew it, and my speech issues made them uncomfortable too, so they never called on me. Except for one math teacher. For the first few months, Mrs. Wiley would always go around the room and make everyone answer in order. When it was my turn, I was usually met with a nervous silence after my answer, so I knew it wasn’t clear. Mrs. Wiley looked panicked every time, because she had to either say I was correct or ask the next person to answer it, but it was obvious she had no idea what I said, therefore no idea what she should say. Eventually, she changed to calling on people in random order and never called on me again.
“It got to a point where I barely spoke in school at all. I had a few friends, but even when I saw them, it was too hard to talk. Even though they were usually pretty good at understanding me, it was never right in school. I couldn’t whisper when we were in class. I couldn’t talk when we were passing quickly in the loud, crowded halls. I couldn’t talk if they were in a group with other people. One day, in high school, when Audrey was about to graduate, she was driving me home, and I told her how sad I’d be when she wasn’t there anymore, because some days, talking to her on our way home was the first time I’d talked to anybody all day.”
“Were you bullied?” he asked gently, his fingers brushing over my leg.
“No, I was mostly just ignored. There were a couple of people who gave me a hard time, but for the most part, it was like I was just there, invisible to everyone. And that was fine with me. I’d rather that than feel under scrutiny.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Kids can be so ignorant.” He pushed back a curl that had escaped from my bun.
“It’s okay. Even with my family, I’m often ignored, but again, I’m okay with that. Audrey loves to talk to people, which works out great for both of us because I’ve always been more than happy to let her have the spotlight.”
He tensed. “Even your family treated you that way?”
“Sometimes they were the worst. My aunt used to ask me to come over and entertain my little cousins so she could get things done around the house, but she’d never let me babysit alone. My mom told me it was because of my speech. She was afraid that if there was an emergency, I wouldn’t be able to get help. Whether it was calling her or 911, or even a neighbor, she didn’t trust that I could do it.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter, but that memory still stung.
“I can’t?—”
“Dylan. I know it doesn’t sound nice, but she wasn’t wrong. I can’t blame her for putting her kids’ safety above protecting my feelings. I don’t care if I hurt myself, but I couldn’t live with myself if someone else was hurt because of my dyspraxia.”
“I didn’t know you then, but I know you now, and I know you wouldn’t have stopped until you did what needed to be done.”
“My speech was much worse then. I don’t blame her.”
I could tell Dylan wanted to argue the point more, but I shushed him with a raised hand.
“I kept those friends from middle school for a while. There were four of us that usually did everything together. Then, in high school, there was one day that we were all supposed to go to the mall.”