30. Cassie #2
“This is our reality, Cassie. We are moving to Boston together. We just have to lay out what that looks like for you.”
“I don’t know what the next year looks like for me, Tor. I lost sight of my future a long time ago, and I can’t see it anymore.”
“No? I can. You live in Boston with me, and you’re doing whatever you want to do, whatever makes you happy, because that’s the only metric you use to make decisions now.
You can be a professional butterfly collector if you feel like it because my trust fund pays all the bills anyway. I’ll make new friends, of course.”
I roll my eyes indulgently. “Easily, as the full of shit tend to.”
He grins, his grip on my waist tightening.
“And my friends have girlfriends, so you have a new friend group, too—one that fits you, that fits our lifestyle, and none of them have a fucking clue about anything in our past. We start fresh in a new city. You wanted brainy friends with bigger ambitions than living and dying in Holbrook, and I promise you, that’s what you’ll have.
The path may have changed, but your destination doesn’t have to. ”
I shake my head. I already told him last time he mentioned Boston that I don’t want to go and be a year behind him for the rest of my life.
Thinking about the future used to be one of my favorite pastimes, but now it puts a knot in my stomach.
“I appreciate that, I really do, but… being a kept woman isn’t my dream.
Maybe it works for your mom, and that’s great for her, but I don’t want to be cheerleading on the sidelines of your academic career.
I want my own. I want to be the one taking those challenging classes, learning cool things, and meeting smart people.
And I don’t want to be a year behind my boyfriend because some asshole stole a year of my life.
It would be a constant reminder, every single day, of the price I have to pay.
Yes, eventually I could catch up, but—Actually, I don’t even know how long you’ll be in school.
Are you stopping at your bachelor’s degree? ”
“I’m studying to be an architect, so… no.”
I nod. “So that’s another two years—at least. It’s not just four years I would have to deal with being behind, and what if the program where you want to study architecture is in California, but I’m stuck in Boston for another year because I had to start a year late?
You can’t not go. So, do we live apart for a year?
What would that even do to our relationship after living together for four years?
And, again, I will feel resentment over this, so that won’t help things, either.
” I shake my head, sighing. “Inviting me to come with you sounds nice, Tor, but I can’t just tag along.
If I can’t figure out a path for myself that goes along with yours, I don’t see how I could possibly go to Boston with you. ”
My shoulders don’t feel any lighter with the weight of all those words I’ve been holding in released out into the world. The city should be big enough to absorb them, but they hang in the air all around us, heavy and stifling and awful.
I’m so sick of being the problem. Maybe life would be easier if my head were emptier and my standards were lower, if I allowed Tim to rip me open and violate me last summer and I kept my fucking mouth shut.
If I buried it and did what my mother and my pastor wanted me to do.
If I made myself let it go, if I didn’t believe I deserved justice.
If I could just live with my rich, handsome boyfriend now and not worry about what my path would look like if he ever changed his mind about dragging me along, and the only items on my agenda were fucking salon appointments and brunch with girlfriends that he picked out for me.
But that isn’t me. It never has been, and I don’t want it to be. I like who I am, and I don’t want to change myself to fit into Tor’s life. I want to build a life with someone. He can be the architect, but I want a say in the plans, too.
I feel terrible when Central Park comes into view. He asked if I wanted to see it before we started accumulating more shopping bags, but now I feel sad and mean, and I don’t want to touch fucking grass.
“Can we skip Central Park?” I ask quietly. “I kinda… don’t want to…”
“Sure,” Tor says. His hand drops from my waist, and he stops in front of me, turning to face me. “I’m sorry,” he says seriously. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. I can see our future so clearly, and sometimes I forget it doesn’t look the same way to you.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I look up at him. “I’m sorry I don’t want to go to Central Park anymore.”
He pulls me in and kisses my forehead. “Don’t be sad, and don’t be sorry.
We can come back anytime. It’s not a big deal.
Don’t be sorry about anything, okay?” He pulls me back, his hand still cradling my face, and looks down at me.
“None of this is your fault. Nothing is ruined. I promise you, we can rebuild anything that was broken, and we’ll build something a lot better. ”
I smile weakly, though my vision remains a bit blurry. “Spoken like a true architect.” I lean against him, and his arms close around me for a hug. “I can’t believe I never asked what you were studying. That makes perfect sense, though. You’re totally an architect.”
“And you’ve only seen me working on the fly. Wait until you see what I can dream up when I have time to draw up proper plans.”
My smile turns a little ironic as I pull away. “Why does that sound vaguely sinister?”
He smirks, then presses the button so we can cross the street and takes my hand. “The only difference between a threat and a promise is your willingness to participate.”
“You’re not going to put some kind of girlfriend dungeon in your Boston house if I don’t agree to move with you, are you?” I joke.
He shrugs, an easy smile on his face. “I mean, I’d rather make it something you’d like better, maybe a library with a comfy reading nook, but I do what I have to do.”