The sound of her slow steps alerted me she was on her way back to the kitchen to join me in the terribly uncomfortable silence. Her posture marked her shame-head low, eyes everywhere but on me. Eventually, she took her seat again and I just stood there.
For weeks now, I'd been wondering how she really felt about my job. She hadn't said anything despite my asking her to keep it real with me from jump. Deep down I think I knew this day was coming, though; knew the day would come when her true feelings would be brought to the light. I suppose that one statement, that lie, had answered all of my questions.
"Marco, I … I think we need to talk," she started. From the corner of my eye, I caught her wringing her hands some.
I scoffed, but didn't say a word as I stared at the countertop instead of her. "Sounds to me like we should've done that a long time ago."
She didn't say anything right away, so I spoke again.
"Answer something for me: am I hard to talk to?" I asked.
My eyes lifted to hers and it looked like the question confused her, but she answered anyway.
"No."
I nodded, figuring that was what she'd say because I'd never given her any reason to think she couldn't come to me about anything.
"And I tried to ask how you felt about my job from day one, didn't I? Let you know I was open to discussing anything you wanted?"
Brynn let out an exasperated breath, but didn't answer my questions. I think she knew what I was getting at anyway. She had ample time to tell me she had an issue with me dancing, but instead, waited until today to make it an issue.
"It's just that … " Her words cut off there and it looked like she wouldn't continue, but that wasn't going to work. Not talking, not communicating, was what got us here in the first place.
"Tell me what you're thinking. Whatever it is … just say it," I pushed, bracing myself for her answer.
Her eyes reddened and she shook her head a few times, leading me to believe she didn't want to do this, but eventually, her eyes lifted to mine. While I thought she'd just tell me she hated what I do, or even that she would prefer it if people she's connected to don't find out, but … what she said was much worse than that.
"I'm not sure I'm cut out for this," she confessed, rendering me speechless. That statement hit me square in the chest.
Damn … she didn't even wanna talk about it before reaching that conclusion?
"And you thought today, the baby shower, was a good time to share that with me."
She took a deep breath. "I've tried, Marco. I've tried to get past it, but it's not that easy."
" … I don't … Where is all this coming from? I thought we-" The words just wouldn't come out right, but it didn't matter anyway because she ignored the statement altogether and just continued to express herself. I got the feeling she'd been holding this in for a while.
If only she'd told me before now … maybe I could've done something about it.
"I thought I could compartmentalize everything. I thought there was the Marco I get and then the Marco everyone else gets, but … there's only one you," she breathed. I couldn't even look at her when she went on. "No matter how I try to convince myself otherwise, there's only one you," she repeated. "The portion of you I get is nothing but part of the whole and I can't … I … " She stopped there and I looked up as glistening beads appeared in the corners of her eyes, seconds later racing down smooth, brown cheeks.
"And I heard what your friend said," she added, confirming what I suspected. At this point, that kind of seemed like a moot point.
I lowered my head as the full picture came into view. This long overdue conversation coming to a head today was a culmination of things, not just her brother's inquiry. With what Carlos said, it became clear that Brynn was most likely already on edge, then the question from Cedric brought everything crashing down.
"Carlos is always talking out the side of his neck," I shot back, feeling frustrated beyond words, so I'm sure my tone was hard.
She lifted her eyes to me again, but instead of the sweet gentleness I usually found there, they stabbed me with a look, one that cut deep. "So you're saying it wasn't true? You're telling me you've never done those things he said? The women?" she asked, frustration heavy in her tone, too.
Yeah, I'd done those things; I had been that guy once upon a time, but damn! I wasn't him anymore.
Brynn waved her hand before I could respond. "You know what? It doesn't even matter. It's not just about what happened today," she explained.
"Then what is it?" I asked.
She took a deep breath and I watched as her eyes scanned the countertop, searching for the right words. All of a sudden, she found them. I knew the moment her thoughts aligned because she stopped fidgeting and she stared right through me.
"I don't want to sit at home on weekends knowing full-well where you are and what you're doing," she began, running down a list to answer my question. "I don't want to have to struggle with feeling insecure, struggle not to ask questions so you don't feel like I'm nagging you about what goes on in that world. I don't want to be the woman who has to wonder if you secretly enjoy what you do-all those eyes on you? All those hands on you?" She paused and I was glad. None of this was easy to hear. The things she said were things me and all the other guys had heard from various women throughout our time working at Indecent Exposure. They were the real, valid concerns of women who had fallen for us, but ultimately decided that loving us wasn't worth the sacrifices.
"It's just … It's a lot, Marco. I don't know about anyone else you've been with, I don't know how they handled it, so all I have to go on is how it's affecting me. And … regardless of how I seem to be handling it on the outside, I'm struggling on the inside," she admitted, and I could only respect that.
Lowering my head, her words brought back a conversation I tried to forget. Elena had said so many things I wanted to block out, but never could. I couldn't because, on some level, I suppose I knew there was at least some measure of truth in them. I knew that asking a woman to be in this with me was a lot to expect.
"Thinking about all of this," Brynn went on, but then paused to run her finger beneath her eye, pushing away tears that fell because of me. " … Thinking about all of this is honestly why I haven't been sleeping."
That hit me hard because I knew how she suffered with that, knew the toll it'd taken on her. My eyes fell closed at the thought of all the tossing and turning, all the nights she'd spent staring at the ceiling, being because of how my job was affecting her.
I hadn't realized that.
"I have this … this huge war going on inside me all the time, Marco, and I can't get any peace," she said in a softer tone than before, expressing herself with her hands when words were no longer enough. "There's the side of me that knows and understands and even respects why you got into this, why you still do this," she clarified. "And then there's the side of me that … " Watery eyes leveled to mine. "There's the side of me that just wants you all to myself," she admitted. "And it kills me knowing that's not possible."
It was me who looked away this time, unable to take the hurt on her face.
"And as crazy as this may sound, I don't even want you to quit."
I was silent.
"I refuse to be the reason your family goes without or suffers. I refuse to have you resent me later on down the road. I refuse to make you feel like you have to choose between me and them, because that's what it would feel like to me. I just … I guess I'm just back where I started," she breathed, letting silence prevail for a moment before literally ending up in the same frame of mind as when our conversation first began:
"This is just too much for me."
My head hung, hearing her words, knowing what they meant, although I couldn't accept them.
I stared at this woman who literally held my future inside her, in every sense of the word. There was never too much she could ask of me. Not even if that something she asked was for me to quit. I'd do that; however, I got the impression she wouldn't even accept that, got the impression that it still wouldn't change things. Dark lashes fluttered down as she stared at her hands and I worked up the nerve to ask the million-dollar question:
"So, what does all of this mean?"
I held my breath waiting for an answer, but I was honestly petrified of what it might be. I didn't want to lose her. Whether we had defined exactly what we were to one another or not, whether we had a damn title or not. I'd felt like she was meant to be mine for some time now, but I was beginning to wonder if I'd been wrong. All of a sudden, it was like I was fighting the tide, like it was just me against this big force eating away at what Brynn and I built faster than we could build it.