CHAPTER 40 Puzzles
Aaron drove us back home in silence. He was visibly upset about what had happened earlier with Naomi, but I knew better than to ask him about it. This wasn’t the time or place to do so.
Outside, the sky’s darkness was beginning to fade with the promise of dawn. It was a few minutes past 5:00 a.m., and I didn’t know how I’d managed to stay up this late—or early, for that matter. But the wedding had been a success in every possible way.
When we arrived home, William led me to his apartment door. Nina was going to spend the night at Liam’s, so William and I had the entire floor to ourselves.
“Should I start calling you 9B now?” William pushed the door open with a smile. He wasn’t drunk or even tipsy anymore. He’d stopped drinking a few hours ago, but he seemed exhausted, and so was I.
“I’m kind of attached to 9A if you ask me.” That was the first nickname he ever gave me. It reminded me of the day we met.
“I’ll call you whatever you want.” He slid the door shut behind him. “Either way, the whole ninth floor is yours.” He grabbed my hand and took it to his lips to kiss it. “I’ll go grab us some water. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Not even to my room to grab my charger and toothbrush?” I teased. “My phone is dead.”
“Nope,” he teased back. “You keep a spare toothbrush here, remember? And there’s an extra charger in my right nightstand drawer. Feel free to use it. I want you here all night. Or morning, that is.”
I smiled and nodded, and William walked away to the kitchen. I removed my shoes and tossed my bag on his lounge chair before heading to brush my teeth. When I was done, I walked over to his nightstand.
When I opened the drawer, I found more than his cell phone charger inside. There was a letter from Parsons addressed to me. It was identical to the one I’d received weeks ago. But I’d kept mine, so I didn’t understand what this was. A copy, maybe? I pulled the letter out of the envelope and started reading.
Guillermina Murphy
483 Park Ave Apt. 9A
New York, NY 10022
Dear Ms. Murphy,
I hope this letter finds you well. It is with regret that I write to inform you that your scholarship application at Parsons has been carefully reviewed, and unfortunately, we are unable to offer you the scholarship at this time.
We want to express our appreciation for the time and effort you dedicated to the application process. The selection committee had the challenging task of evaluating numerous outstanding candidates, and your application truly stood out. Your dedication as a student has been commendable, and we recognize the passion you bring to your field.
While we are unable to offer you the scholarship for the upcoming academic year, we encourage you to continue your pursuit of …
“Did you find it?” William interrupted me, setting the glasses of water on the other nightstand. I stared at him, stunned. “The charger. Did you find—” He trailed off when he turned to look at me, his eyes widening with the realization of what had happened. Meanwhile, my breathing turned faster and shallower.
“Why?” I tossed the letter on the bed. I’d read enough.
“Guille—”
“You know what?” I said, raising a hand in front of me. “I don’t even want to know why.” Brushing the angry tears off my face, I collected my things and pushed the invisible door to flee to my room. It’s not like I didn’t already know why he did it, but that’s not what pissed me off.
“Guille!” William shouted as he dashed after me.
Learning I hadn’t won a scholarship on my own merit was shocking and devastating. I sat on my sofa, rested my elbows on my knees, and took my hands to my face as the humiliation chipped away at me.
I sensed the subtle shift of William’s weight on the cushion beside me. “I’m so fucking upset I can’t even look at you right now.”
“I understand you’re upset,” he said. “And I won’t tell you how to feel. But please, let me explain.”
“What exactly do you want to explain, William?” I said, my tone growing louder and harsher. I stood and paced in front of him. “How you lied to me? How you forged a scholarship acceptance letter to make me believe I’d gotten one so you could pay for my last semester without my knowledge?”
“Guille, please hear me out.”
I needed to calm down, but I didn’t know how. I tried remembering how I’d misjudged him in the past, assuming the worst before letting him explain. Only to end up apologizing for being too quick to judge. But those thoughts didn’t do shit to settle the anger.
“I’m so fucking pissed at you right now.” I shook my head, hoping the disappointment was visible in my eyes as I stared at him, crushed.
“And you have every right to be.”
God! He was driving me insane.
“Okay.” After taking a deep, steadying inhalation that didn’t do shit to settle the anger, I sat on the edge of the bed in front of him with my arms crossed at my chest. “I’ll hear you out,” I said, my tone harsher than I intended it to be, but I wasn’t going to pretend like I could be indifferent to this type of behavior.
William blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t get the scholarship. I covered the cost of your tuition and lied about everything. I stupidly thought I could get away with doing something for you without getting caught.”
My mouth tugged down, my lower lip quivering from the overwhelming emotions of having William confirm what he did and not just what it entailed but how it made me feel.
“I would’ve found out either way when I paid the remaining 5% of the tuition that wasn’t ‘covered’ with the fake scholarship,” I pointed out.
“That money was going to be allocated toward graduation fees and other expenses,” he explained, his tone low but firm. “I planned everything to make things easier for you to graduate in December. Because I know that’s what you want.”
The incoherent mix of emotions flowing through my body was driving me insane. A part of me was furious and upset. These attitudes reminded me of my father, and of how, for years, he did so many things behind my back with the excuse of it all being in my best interest or for my own good.
Another part of me was in awe of William’s generosity, his overall capacity to anticipate my needs, and his willingness to do whatever it took to make things happen.
Ultimately, I had to set boundaries and explain how specific things triggered me. Open communication and full disclosure were two things I wanted and needed for our relationship to work.
“What bothers me is that you did this behind my back.” I stood, pacing along the width of my room in front of William, anger bubbling inside my chest. “It’s like I’m stuck in this endless loop where everyone keeps deciding for me or doing things for my own good. But I’m always left out of the equation.” I was rambling, but William had no choice but to let me do it while he listened in silence. He had no words left to interrupt me with. “I had a plan.” I stopped in front of him and met his gaze. “If I didn’t get the scholarship, I was going to find a way to save the money and pay for the remaining credits. Even if it meant putting my studies on hold for a semester or two.”
“And that’s my point exactly,” he replied once he realized I was done talking. “I didn’t want you to put your studies on hold because of your father’s sudden and unfair decision to stop supporting you financially. I did that when I chose to drop my studies to pursue acting, and I regret it every single day. It still weighs on me, as stupid as that might sound. I have all this money, fame, and success, and I’m still carrying the burden of knowing I wasn’t capable of doing this one thing for myself before moving on to something else. It was important and meaningful to me, and I ignored it.”
“But why go behind my back?” I demanded. “You know how much I hate feeling like I don’t have a say in my own life. It makes me feel small and trapped.”
“Would you have accepted?” he mused. “Would you have allowed me to do this one thing for you after finding out you didn’t get the scholarship?”
I wouldn’t have, and we both knew it. And in my inflexible determination, I would’ve put my studies on hold and tried to get a second job in case the magazine couldn’t hire me full-time. I would’ve even tried to convince William (and myself) that I needed a break from school when all I wanted was to graduate. I didn’t want to put my studies on hold, but I was willing to do whatever it took to own up to my choices and their consequences.
My silence told William all he needed to know.
“You chose to stay by my side,” he continued. “You chose not to yield to your father’s wishes to end our relationship, which cost you his support. The least I could do was take care of your tuition, especially when I am more than capable of doing so.” He ran a hand through his hair and stood to remove his jacket, tossing it on the sofa beside him. “It in no way hinders or impacts me financially, and you know it.”
William stepped forward and gently tilted my chin with his finger. I braced my hands on the bed beside my hips, and his hand cradled the back of my head. The supported angle allowed me to meet his gaze more easily. “Have you forgotten what I told you last Christmas Eve?” he muttered.
“No,” I breathed, shaking my head. But I had, until now.
I—take care—of what’s—mine.
The rest of the conversation came back to me, slapping me in the face like a bucket of ice-cold water.
You’ll let me take care of you.
My dad had given me an ultimatum. You have two weeks to put an end to this … infatuation of yours. But I’d chosen William, and it cost me the leftover shreds of my relationship with my father and his financial support. But even if it hurt having to choose, all I wanted was William. I would always choose him.
Now tell me you’ll let me take care of you.
God, I had forgotten all about that exchange that happened after our failed Christmas Eve dinner with my dad. Say it. William insisted as he moved inside me. Faster, harder, deeper. But how wouldn’t I forget this conversation, considering I had been on the verge of coming apart with pleasure and my mind was clouded with the emotional distress of that day?
And I had conceded. I’ll let you take care of me.
I said the words.
My plans had failed. And in my determination to keep rejecting William’s offer to pay for my tuition, he felt the need to go behind my back. I wasn’t pleased about it, but how could I blame him after remembering how I’d agreed to let him take care of me in the spur of the moment?
“I’m so sorry, Guille.” He cleared his throat and waited a few seconds to continue. “I would never do anything to hurt you. I want to give you everything I have and do everything and anything in my power to make you happy. And it frustrates me to feel like I’m in the wrong for wanting to do so.” He plopped on the bed beside me and laid on his side, pushing himself slightly up with his elbow. We were exhausted and barely able to keep our eyes open at this point. Outside, the sun had risen, and the city was alive and awake.
“All I want,” he continued, “is to be able to share the weight of whatever burdens you because I know I can carry it for you whenever you feel like you can’t.”
“And I appreciate that. I really do,” I said, feeling lucky and grateful to have such a wonderful and generous man like him as a partner in my life. My issue wasn’t just about the enormous amount of money he was spending on me but also about the approach. “But you need to understand where I’m coming from. I’m not trying to be ungrateful, purposely difficult, or stubborn when it comes to accepting financial support from you. I’m trying, for once, to prove to myself that I can at least try to do things and achieve things on my own. That even without my father’s support, I can rely on myself to get things done. But if you always come to the rescue … how will I know what I’m capable of?”
“You already do so much,” he said. “Your plate is as full as they come. And all I know is you’re one of the smartest, most talented, creative, resilient, and hard-working people I know.”
“I’m angry at you, and that’s not helping me stay mad.” I covered my face with my hands and let out a frustrated groan.
He chuckled. “I’m serious. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me. Not even to yourself. Just give yourself some grace and permission to use my credit card.”
Laughing, I let myself fall back on the bed and stared at the ceiling while William swept a few strands of hair away from my face.
“What if I told you I flew to Stockholm, visited your university, and returned with your culinary school diploma?” I taunted. “Congrats! You’re officially a chef. What would that taste like? No pun intended …”
“Like whatever strawberries taste like to you.” He chuckled, and I snorted out a laugh. Then, he frowned. “I … wouldn’t like it,” he admitted.
“But why?” I pushed. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? I’d be giving it to you on a silver platter. You should want to take it.”
“Yes, but I want to do it myself.”
“Voilà.”
“I understand the logic,” he said. “But I insist on how this is an entirely different situation. You are already putting in all the hard work. All I’m doing is making sure you’re able to keep doing it.”
I turned on my side and mirrored William’s pose. “I’ll let you pay my tuition,” I said, defeated. “One, because I said I’d let you take care of me, and I can’t take that back, nor do I want to. And two, because I really want to graduate.”
William smiled and blinked slowly. His eyelids were hooded with exhaustion, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep myself awake either.
“We only need to agree on two things.” I dragged a finger over his eyebrow and settled my hand on his cheek. “One, you’ll let me pay you back one day. No questions asked. It might take me five years or twenty to save that money and pay you back, but you will let me.” I waved a hand, Jedi-style, in front of his face. He smiled. “And two, you’ll always allow me to assemble my own puzzles.”
William frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you a story,” I said, combing my fingers through William’s hair. “Let’s call it a bedtime story. Once I’m done, we can go to sleep and put this behind us. How does that sound?”
“Lovely.” He lifted me off the bed and carried me back to his room through the invisible door. He put me down on his bed and laid beside me. “We have blackout blinds here and we both know you prefer my mattress over your own.” I did, but still, I gaped at him and chuckled.
William placed my hand on his head and moved it from side to side so I would resume dragging my fingers through his hair. And I did.
“Tell me that story,” he said with hooded eyes.
“My mom loved puzzles. She loved assembling them, and every now and then, she’d choose one of her favorite ones to frame. Sometimes, I would sit beside her and offer her my help, but I didn’t have the patience to make one from start to finish.”
“What?” William said, pretending to be shocked. “You? Impatient?”
“Do you want me to keep scratching your scalp or not?” I warned. He smiled and nodded. “Anyway, she liked puzzles so much that my dad took notice. So he started gifting her framed puzzles. And my mom would hang them, but I know now she was being polite. They were stunning, intricate designs made with thousands of pieces. Pieces she hadn’t assembled herself.”
William lifted his brows and pressed his lips together.
“One day, as my mom unwrapped one of the framed puzzles my dad gave her, she turned to me and said, Don’t ever let anyone take the joy and satisfaction away from assembling your own puzzles. I was nine, so I took her words literally. But now, after all these years, they finally make sense.”
William took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. I rested my head on his chest. “I’ll let you take care of me as long as you never make me feel like you’re assembling my puzzles. And I promise I’ll never assemble yours unless we ask for the help ourselves.”
“So I can finance the puzzles?” he asked, dragging his fingers through my hair. It felt so good it made me shut my eyes.
“You’re infuriating,” I muttered, feeling my consciousness fading into inevitable sleep and his chest rumbling with a subtle laugh.
“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I promise I’ll always allow you to assemble your own puzzles.”