29. Berkley
You're A Dumb Bitch
Less than a minute after Brent left, Lexie waltzed into my apartment in response to the SOS text I’d send her when he showed up.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I broke up with him,” I said flatly, numbly throwing myself onto my couch and curling up on my side.
“You what?” Lexie shouted. “What the fuck, Berkley? Explain yourself right now.”
Wordlessly, I held out my phone, content to let the headline and paparazzi photo do the talking.
Lexie was silent for a moment while she read the article. She tapped around on the screen for another minute. Then she did the strangest thing.
She barked out a laugh—a loud, incredulous laugh that quickly devolved into hysterics.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked, sitting up and glaring daggers at her. “I’m in pain and you’re laughing?”
“I love you, Berk,” she said, swiping at her eyes once she’d managed to collect herself. “But you’re a dumb bitch sometimes.”
I stared at her, dumbstruck.
“Get the fuck out.”
“No,” she said, kneeling in front of me and clasping my face in her hands. “Listen to me.”
Through smushed cheeks, I squeaked out, “No,” and tried to pry myself free.
Lexie ignored me and held firm. “That picture is at least five years old,” she said, inclining her head to where she’d dropped my phone on the floor.
“He was just in New York, Lex,” I said. “That’s not possible.”
“That stupid gossip rag recycled an old photo.”
“How do you know?”
“Because unlike you, I used my brain and ran a Google search on Brent and Cosette. That’s definitely a real photo, but it was first published five years ago when she and Brent were working on a collaboration with a top-shelf vodka brand. According to the stories, they’d been out on the town in New York City together doing publicity for it.”
“New York City and not Buffalo?”
“The fact that you could even confuse the two makes me want to slap you,” Lexie said, slumping onto the couch next to me.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“No shit,” my best friend said with a snort.
Fuck, what an idiot I was. I hadn’t even stopped to listen to Brent, to consider he might’ve been telling the truth that he wasn’t cheating on me. I’d been so blinded by pain, by the embarrassment, but trauma of all the memories seeing that photo dredged up.
And in my rage and shame spiral, I’d thrown away the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Fuck, what have I done?” I asked Lexie.
Though it was more of a rhetorical question, she reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly as she said, “You did and said some shit in the heat of the moment. You’re human, and humans make mistakes. The question you should be asking yourself is what are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do?” I asked, tears once again flowing freely from my eyes. Pain and devastation had my heart cracking in my chest, though for entirely new reasons. The realization that I’d broken up with Brent and pushed him away felt like an ice pick digging into my heart.
“You can start by getting your ass off this couch and going to him. He loves you, Berk. And he’s a fighter. You really think he has any plans of letting you go that easily?”
“I mean, no,” I told her. In fact, he’d said as much before he left.
Lexie rose to her feet and pulled me to mine. “So get your cute little ass in your car and drive straight to his apartment. Get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness if that’s what it takes.”
“Why do you care so much?” I asked petulantly. I knew she was right, but I didn’t appreciate being bossed around.
Then again, Lexie had always had the uncanny ability to know how to handle me in every situation, and apparently, this was one that required tough love and not kid gloves.
“Because I care about you, and you love him, therefore I’m emotionally invested in your relationship,” she said as she dragged me toward the door.
“Being with Mitch has made you soft,” I retorted.
“Not soft,” Lexie said. “Just in love myself.”
I sucked in a surprised breath. I never thought I’d see the day where Lexie Monroe would open herself up enough to a man to fall in love.
My eyes once again watered as I squeezed her hand. “I’m so fucking happy for you.”
Lexie gave me a slow smile. “Me, too. And I’ll be happy for you in about”—she mimed checking a watch she wasn’t wearing—“twenty minutes once you get your man back.”
“What if she doesn’t want me?” I asked quietly, avoiding Lexie’s gaze as I stuffed my feet into my sandals.
“Stop being stupid and get out of here.”
With that, Lexie unceremoniously shoved me into the hall and slammed the door to my own apartment in my face.
I was shaking with nerves by the time I approached Brent’s door less than five minutes later. I’d hoped to have more time on the drive over to figure out what exactly I’d say to him, but luck hadn’t been on my side—or it had, in the form of hitting every green light between our buildings.
Raising my fist, I knocked hesitantly then stepped out of view of the peephole, afraid he wouldn’t answer if he saw it was me. A moment later, footsteps approached, and then the door opened.
“Mitch?”
“Hey, Blondie,” he said with a wry smile.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Your boy called after your…fight. Needed some company.”
“Can I…talk to him?”
“I think you better,” Mitch said, stepping into the hall and holding the door open for me, then disappearing once I crossed the threshold inside—giving me and Brent our space to figure out what came next.
I padded deeper into the condo, feeling for all the world like I was walking toward my death.
Because that’s what would happen if Brent didn’t forgive me—I would simply cease to exist, and my world as I knew it would be forever destroyed. If we couldn’t fix things, I’m not sure I’d ever want to rebuild it.
Without him, nothing else mattered, and I hated myself for putting us in this position.
“Who was at the door?” Brent asked when I entered the living room, finding him sprawled across his couch, an arm thrown over his face.
“Hey, Beej,” I said softly.
Brent flew to sitting, standing, and scooping me in his arms so fast I barely had time to blink. In another heartbeat, we were back on the couch, me cradled against his body as he pressed his face into my neck and inhaled deeply.
“Brent.”
“Just…give me a minute.”
So I did. I let him hold me, let myself sink into his embrace. It had only been an hour since I ended things, since I kicked him out of my apartment, but I felt like I’d lived lifetimes in that span. And the longer we remained curled up like that, the more my body and my mind settled. He hadn’t immediately kicked me out. He wasn’t cold and closed off, or screaming and raging at me.
He was…here. Holding me. Savoring my presence.
I couldn’t hold back my words any longer.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I whispered, tears slipping freely down my cheeks. “God, you must hate me.”
“Never,” he croaked. “I love you too much.”
I pulled away only far enough to capture his face in my hands, to make sure he heard and understood my next words.
“I’ve been badly hurt in the past. That isn’t news to you. But apparently, I haven’t handled it all as well as I thought, and shoving it down deep instead of working through that trauma is no longer working for me. I’m not going to make excuses for myself, only ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt and trust that I plan to work on myself so this doesn’t ever happen again.
“I love you,” I whispered, leaning close and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his mouth. “More than anything in the world, and that scares me so fucking much. But the thought that I lost you today, that I nearly threw away the best thing that ever happened to me wrecked me. I don’t ever want to put us through this again. I’m sorry for so many things. For not believing you, for not giving you the chance to explain, for jumping to conclusions and flying off the handle. But most of all”—I reached up and swiped my thumbs under his eyes, brushing away the moisture there—“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
Inhaling deeply and letting it go in a slow, steady breath, my shoulders drooped. I’d gotten it off my chest—my apology. Now all I could do was hope he forgave me.
“Are you going to let me speak now?” he asked. I only nodded, so he proceeded. “I was never going to let you walk away, no matter how much you thought you’d driven me from your life and ended our relationship. I was always going to fight for this, Berk. This—you—are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Letting you go would’ve been like cutting out my heart and expecting to survive without it. It wouldn’t have been possible. I would’ve come for you eventually—I’ll always come for you. My home, my life, my everything, all of my worldly possessions, my blood, my love, my fucking body and soul…all of it belongs to you, Berk. And to know that you maybe don’t feel the same, that you feel taken advantage of in this relationship? That cuts me deeper than you can imagine. Why haven’t you talked to me? Or hell, talked to a therapist? Anyone about the shit you’ve been dealing with in that pretty mind of yours?”
He was right, of course, and a phone call to a therapist was on the agenda the second we wrapped up this phone call. For him, I needed to be a better woman. To deserve him, I needed to start taking better care of myself, so I could give my all to our relationship without shit like this continuing to pop up when things triggered me.
I didn’t want to be triggered anymore. I only wanted to let this man love me, and love him in return.
“I’m a master of self-sabotage,” I told him at last. A shitty excuse, but the truth nonetheless. “I’ve been burnt too many times in friendships and relationships, and it’s made me more than a little skittish. I don’t do well with change, and letting you into my life—falling in love with you—was a change bigger than anything I’d ever planned on. I’d never seen that for myself. That soul deep, irrevocable kind of love. You walked into my life and turned the whole thing upside down. All these months, I’ve been trying to keep myself from falling too hard too fast and pancaking when the ground rushed up to meet me. But…I’ve come to realize something.”
“What’s that?”
“Loving you isn’t falling. It’s flying. Instead of feeling trapped and held down, I feel more free to be me than I ever have.” Tears sprung to my eyes again and fell free before I could react to them. I was so fucking sick of crying, and honestly, I was surprised I had any moisture left in my body to give. Through watery eyes, I stared at Brent, falling deep into his perfect blue eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again.
Brent only wrapped his arms tighter around me, the pressure and his warmth a comfort I desperately needed, my solace in the storm of my emotional purging.
“Shh, baby,” he said against my hair. “It’s okay.”
“You don’t have to be nice to me right now. I’m an asshole.”
Brent choked on a laugh. “You’re not an asshole. And I will always be nice to you.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“Because I love you,” he said simply. “That’s not going to change because you went a little out of your mind.”
I tilted my head up to look at him. “I’m so sorry,” I said once more.
“Stop apologizing,” he said. “I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to listen to me for a second. Are you ready to do that?”
I only nodded.
“There is nothing and no one in this world that could ever take me away from you. There is no offer I could get that could be more enticing than knowing I get to come home to you every day. My life began and ended that day you walked up to me at the bar. That moment is forever etched in my mind as the moment I met the love of my life. So how about I make you a deal.”
“I’m listening.” Hell, I was hanging on every word. This man…I’d told him once that he said the filthiest things to me, but also made me want to melt.
This was one of the melting moments.
I didn’t deserve his generosity and kindness—not right now. But I’d do everything in my power to make myself worthy of it, every day for the rest of our lives if he’d have me.
“Trust me, Berkley. Trust me with your heart, your body, your everything. I promise I will guard all of it with my life. And in return, I will trust you with mine.”
“Deal,” I said, choking on another sob as he pressed kisses to my cheeks, collecting my tears on his lips as they fell.
When I quieted again, he said, “You’re the attorney. Is there anything you want to add?”
“Future attorney,” I reminded him. “Technically not even a lawyer yet.”
“Semantics.”
I grinned, though I could feel the edges wobbling. “Well, there is one more thing,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Kiss me.”
Brent’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Happily.”
I shifted on his lap to straddle him, and his mouth came over mine. Over and over, we came together and pulled apart, fingers clutching, hands roaming.
Breathless, I pulled away at last, letting my eyes rove across every detail of his perfect face—the face of the man who had become more precious to me than anything else, the man I loved beyond reason.
“I missed you,” I said with a disbelieving chuckle. Our fight had lasted less than a few hours start to finish, but it felt like forever.
“God, you have no idea.”
“Let’s never do that again, okay?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Daniels.”
I grinned at him, my heart expanding in my chest as the weight of the last two weeks fell away. I pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I love you, Brent Jean.”
“In all ways, Berkley Daniels.”