19. Darwin
SAVVY HAS BEEN SLEEPING in my bed for a week now.
Not coincidentally, it’s also been the happiest week of my life.
I don’t deserve her, not even close, but I’m sure as hell trying to. What I said to Raven the day she and her family came to help us clean was the truth: Savvy wants me, and I’d be a fool not to take that and run like hell.
“You should move in.” The words slip out before I can stop them, but I’m hardly responsible for my lack of self-control.
When I came into the kitchen a moment ago, I found my girlfriend standing at the stove, barefoot and dressed only in one of my T-shirts, pink hair gathered on top of her head in a messy bun.
The room is more cluttered than it used to be. There are onions in the fruit bowl and oat milk in the fridge. At the table, my laptop is sitting across from Savvy’s in the spots where we’ve taken to working after dinner every night. There’s also a sticky note with a very accurate drawing of my cock (with an arrow pointing to it, accompanied by the words Darwin’s Dick so there’s no mistaking it) stuck to the pantry door.
Everywhere I look, there are signs of my little tornado making herself at home. As I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her warm waist and feeling the comfort—the fucking comfort—of having her close… The words just come out.
And Savvy goes stiff.
It’s only for half a second, then she’s back to pushing eggs around the pan with a spatula. Her voice is casual as she responds, “It’s a little soon, don’t you think?”
I wish I could see her face right now. Frowning, I lean in to kiss her jaw. “No. I don’t,” I mumble into her skin, attempting to ignore the panic crawling up my spine. “If you’re not ready, though, I understand.”
Savvy turns off the burner and begins transferring the eggs onto the two plates she has waiting with toast and sliced melon. “It’s not that I’m not ready,” she admits, offering me a gentle, reassuring smile as she hands me my breakfast.
I kiss her in thanks, and we move over to the table. “What is it, then?” I ask as we sit. The familiar, anxious tightening is going on in my chest, and I know I need to get my head on straight, but hearing her response seems so much more important right now.
Rolling her fork between her fingers, Savvy gazes at me apprehensively. “Please don’t take this personally. It’s just that I might not… love this house.”
“You don’t love the house?” I echo, looking around the familiar space and trying to imagine it through Savvy’s eyes. It’s bigger and nicer than Stone’s place, and in a better area of town. There’s a lot of white, admittedly, but that isn’t difficult to change. “We could… paint?” I suggest, looking back at her quizzically.
Her nose wrinkles as she swallows a bite of melon. “Um, maybe.”
Even without that lackluster response, I would still know she isn’t a fan of this plan. Below the tabletop, my knee bounces. I need to take a step back, clear my head and do the breathing exercises I learned from Doctor Lucas, but I’m too anxious to think straight.
Sensing I’m not buying this, Savvy sighs, setting down her fork. “I’m not saying no. It’s just something I’d need to wrap my head around. We’ll keep talking about it.”
“You shouldn’t have to live somewhere you don’t like.”
“Dar,” she pleads, eyes wide and imploring. “I’m trying to be honest with you.”
I grit my teeth. “So tell me what’s wrong with the damn house!” Savvy’s face falls, and my stomach lurches with regret. I lower my voice. “I’m sorry. This is… I’m on edge. I’m sorry.”
She nods, her hands slipping off the table and into her lap. “It’s okay. I’m not communicating well.”
“It’s not an excuse for me to raise my voice.”
We stare at each other in silence for a long moment. Finally, Savvy sighs again. “This place just brings up a lot of sad memories for me. I’m happy now, and I know you are too, but there’s a lot of not-so-great history here. For both of us.”
There’s a painful lump in my throat that won’t seem to dislodge. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
Her lips lift in a halfhearted smile, eyes pleading with me to understand. “It’s your home. You love this house, and I… I want to be with you. We don’t need to talk about this now. It’s a down-the-road conversation.”
I love her, not the fucking house.
I want to tell her we’ll put it on the market and find something new together. In fact, imagining myself walking hand in hand with Savvy through houses, discussing square footage and bathroom tile… I love it.
But she isn’t asking me for that. If she hates this house but isn’t suggesting we find a new one, could it be because she doesn’t see us as permanent?
Ice is seeping through my veins, and beneath the table, my leg bounces faster.
For fuck’s sake, she told me on that very first day here she wanted to sell the business. That’s what we’ve been working toward. How did I manage to ignore that? Have I spent the last months helping her leave me?
Galactic Guild is done, and looks better than I’ve ever seen it. There are only a few days until our soft opening, and Savvy has already sold out birthday party packages and Laser Speed Dating events for the next two months. We worked out a financial projection spreadsheet last weekend, and it had us comfortably in the green within three months. We could get an offer any day now.
My chest feels like it’s going to cave in, and when Savvy reaches across the table to take my hand, I rip it back. Her face falls.
“Dar,” she begins cautiously, “can you tell me what you’re thinking right now?”
The prickle of irritation I feel is almost a relief. “Not everything is my OCD, Savvy.”
“I didn’t say it was!”
“You thought it,” I snarl, shoving my chair back and pacing to the sink to fill a glass of water. As the faucet turns on, though, I push my hands under the stream instead. My muscles are working of their own volition, moving through the familiar ritual before I even realize what I’m doing.
Some of my tension bleeds away.
Savvy is still sitting at the table, and I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want to see her hurt or anger and know that I’m entirely at fault for it. She hasn’t done anything. This entire conversation, and the ugly turn it’s taken, is on me.
I’m not equipped for this. Feelings. People. Love.
Savvy doesn’t like this house? Well, this house is the only place I’ve ever been comfortable, and I won’t leave it for someone who could walk away on a whim. Then what would I be left with? One by one, the ties holding me to my old life have been cut and this one, the house, is the largest. I can’t let it go. I just can’t.
“Please stop washing your hands.”
I start. She’s standing across the kitchen island from me now, and her voice trembles. Looking down, I see there’s soap on my hands. I don’t remember putting soap… Gritting my teeth, I rinse the suds, then turn the faucet off and lean forward, bracing my hands on the counter.
It’s a struggle to gather enough courage to look up at her, but I do, steeling myself for what I’m about to see.
Savvy has her arms wrapped around herself, and my heart wrenches when I see the worry in her eyes. Worry. Not anger or hurt, despite me being a world-class prick.
Her voice is unbearably understanding. “Do you need some space?”
No, I don’t need space. I need to be good enough for this woman, good enough to be good for her, and I don’t know how. Could I?
How the hell did we get here?
Last night after work, we went out to dinner. At a restaurant. It was a busy night in town, and we sat at a cramped table in a line of other couples, making easy conversation over drinks and sharing an appetizer. I made her laugh.
An hour ago, I woke to her mouth lavishing attention on my hard cock, bright eyes glinting mischievously up at me in the early morning light. I’d let her play until I was close, then rolled her onto her back, finding my way into her body so easily it’s like we’d done this a thousand times before.
For weeks, I’ve been letting myself believe I’m normal, feeling triumphant over a few insignificant victories. Now, the illusion is crumbling down around me, and the woman I love looks like I’m breaking her heart.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“Are you going to sell Galactic Guild?”
Savvy’s eyes widen. “What? I don’t… I’m not sure. What does this have to do with the house?”
The house? Christ, that’s what we were talking about, wasn’t it? Her not liking this house isn’t the issue anymore, but how could she know that? I haven’t been talking to her as this mental spiral takes me miles away from our original fight.
I scrub my hands over my face. This is terrible. More than anything, I want to apologize, to move forward and bury this shitty morning under a thousand incredible ones. Even for a man who has never fallen in love before, I know this thing between us is special. She is special, and the single best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Could I make her happy, though? Am I capable of that? Or will I have saddled her with an old man with a malfunctioning brain?
I have to think, and I can’t do it when the love of my life is staring at me with tears in her eyes, because right now, my only priority is making her smile again.
Sucking in one last lungful of air, I let my hands fall. “Space would be good.” My voice sounds cold, detached even, and Savvy curls further in on herself.
She nods, valiantly trying to pretend I haven’t hurt her. Despite offering, I can tell she didn’t expect me to agree. “Okay. I’ll just… I’ll get my stuff and get ready for work at home.”
Every instinct she awoke inside me is howling with protest, but I can’t move as she walks back to the table, unplugging her computer and gathering it up without looking at me.
The breakfast she made us is still untouched on the table. I open my mouth to tell her to stay and eat with me, or that I’ll go and she can wait here. Nothing comes out. Then, her bare footsteps are retreating toward the bedroom, and still I’m frozen to the spot.
Seconds tick by, or maybe minutes, and I stare into the sink, trying to recreate the events that led us here as panic and self-disgust mount higher inside me.
I only look up when Savvy reemerges, dressed with an overstuffed tote bag over her shoulder. Her eyes are rimmed with red.
“Okay,” she says, her tone determinately calm, scanning the kitchen to make sure there isn’t anything she missed. Finally, when she can’t put it off any longer, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Dar, if the house is a deal breaker, we’ll work it out, okay? I’m sorry I said no like that. I’d… I’d live anywhere as long as it’s with you.”
I clutch the countertop as she turns away, hurrying out of sight. As soon as the front door closes behind her, I’m struck by a horrible sense of déjà vu.
An eighteen-year-old Savvy, running into the rain with tears streaming down her face.
Savvy on the day she came back into my life, fleeing as quickly as she could.
Is it any wonder she doesn’t love this place? For god’s sake, this room alone bore witness to the lowest point in our relationship. There’s not enough paint in the world to cover that up.
Am I so terrified of losing of my comfort zone that I would ask Savvy, my little tornado, to live in the place where I broke her heart? How could I be so fucking selfish? How could I allow my fear to spiral so far that I begin to question her place in my life, when all she’s done is prove the opposite?
It’s a miracle I don’t crumple under the weight of my regret and self- loathing.
She didn’t do anything wrong. Savvy was acting like an adult. She communicated her feelings and compromised with mine because—as desperately as I’m trying not to think about it at the moment—I know she loves me. We’ve never exchanged those words, but every minute I’m with her, I feel it.
Savvy sees past the disorder that’s dominated my entire life thus far. She sees me, and in return, I let her leave this house in tears.
As my eyes fall to the abandoned breakfast plates, my stomach churns violently.
I think I’m going to be sick.