Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1)(71)

She took a breath and blinked back more tears and then those words came; the ones that answered my question, the ones I dreaded:

"I think maybe we …  maybe we should end this."





Chapter Twenty-Nine




Brynn

The tires of Marco's truck squealed as he took off down the street.  Angry, hurt; I knew he was both of those things, but I was hurting, too.  He wanted to keep talking, wanted to fix this, but there was only one  way to fix it and I wouldn't have his family struggling because of me.  So, with all the tension between he and I, I just wanted to be home in  my own bed, alone with my thoughts.

Despite being upset, he brought me back here. Not a single word was  spoken on the ride over, but the silence was so incredibly loud. Now, as  I sat on the couch in the darkness, all I could think about was the  argument.

I would've been able to hold all of this in if it hadn't been for my  brother inquiring about the shirt. I could've swallowed the statement  Carlos made about the women; I could've pretended like nothing was wrong  for the sake of salvaging the rest of this special day. However, things  hadn't gone that way. My true feelings about Marco dancing were forced  out at the worst possible time and I unintentionally hurt him in the  process.

He brought up our initial conversation about his work, the one when he  asked me to tell him how I felt about it, but I was still in such a haze  at the time. The shock of finding out left me reeling for a while,  especially because of how I started falling for him. How exactly was I  supposed to tell him everything I said today without it going exactly  like it did? Without hurting him? This argument was exactly what I  wanted to avoid.

A gentle knock startled me. Keeping the lights out, I tiptoed to the door to peek out.

Mona. I should've guessed she'd come.

She sent a text about half an hour ago to ask if I was doing okay after  the awkward moment with my brother. I let her know things had kind of  spiraled and that I was on my way home, and now she'd apparently left  her hotel to come see about me.

I opened the door and, laying eyes on her, my best friend, the  realization of how full I was just hit me all of a sudden. I was a ball  of emotion and tears.

"It's okay," she said, holding me as we walked back to the couch. "Whatever happened, I'm sure it'll straighten itself out."

Maybe she believed it, but I wasn't sure it was that simple. I could  only imagine what was going through Marco's head. In the very least, he  probably hated me for holding this all in until it became a mess neither  of us could clean up. I didn't plan for it to happen like this either.

Mona left me for a moment to grab a tissue from the half-bath off the  kitchen. She returned with a wad in her hand and I accepted it, dabbing  my eyes.

"Tell me what happened," she said sweetly. I thought over all the details of the argument and shook my head.

"It was just too much," I admitted. "I've been pretending like I could deal with it, but …  it was too much," I repeated.         

     



 

Rubbing slow circles on my back, Mona spoke again. "Is that what you told him?"

I'd told him that and so much more, even the lie to my brother had  spoken volumes. "There were a lot of things said." So many things I  couldn't take back, but maybe I wasn't supposed to take them back. I  mean …  whether this was how this should've been handled, these were my  feelings. The things I said and felt were valid.

"Tell me what you want me to do," Mona said softly, maybe feeling  helpless in the moment as I did more crying than talking. However, the  truth is there wasn't anything she, or anyone else, could do.

I simply shook my head.

"I just think maybe you two need to cool off," she offered up.

"Then how come this feels like more than that? How come this feels like  an impasse?" And it totally did. There was no viable solution; nothing  to be done that either of us would be entirely comfortable with.

"What do you want?" Mona asked, cutting into my thoughts. "His job aside. What do you want?"

I thought about that, her question; stripped away everything except me  and Marco. We had so many factors to overcome throughout this entire  journey. Nothing for us had been simple, nothing cut and dry. There were  always hurdles and sacrifices. But this was just one we couldn't seem  to get over.

Well …  this was one I couldn't seem to get over.

"I want things simple," I answered.

Mona was quiet for a moment and I wondered what she was thinking.

When she took a breath, I turned her way, wiping more tears. "When you  first told me what he does for a living," she started. "I think I judged  him pretty harshly. I may not have said that out loud, but I did," she  admitted, and I wasn't shocked by the confession. Although, no, she  didn't come right out and say she disapproved, it had been written all  over her face.

"I judged him based on things I heard about that lifestyle, the way men  in his position are portrayed through the media and …  I judged him," she  repeated. "But listening to you talk about him, hearing how much he  seems to care about you, seeing that firsthand today-Brynn, that man  hardly left your side during the shower," she added. "Every time I saw  you, I saw him. And when he wasn't there, he was somewhere close keeping  a close eye on you."

I wasn't sure if this was all supposed to make me feel better or what,  but it definitely wasn't. Listening to Mona give her new, clearer  opinion of Marco, I felt like I made a mistake today; like I should've  turned a blind eye to what he does, but …

 … that didn't feel totally right either.

Was I supposed to sacrifice my feelings for his? Was I supposed to  pretend that these things didn't matter when they clearly did? Was I  supposed to hold all of this in, regardless of how it tore me apart on  the inside?

No, that wasn't the answer, but I can admit to not knowing what the true solution might be.

"I said all that to say," she went on, "regardless of where you two are  right now, it's so obvious you both love each other." Her words made me  turn toward her again. "I don't know if you two have admitted that much  yet, but it's clear to me and probably everyone else around you both.  And it's been my experience that, when love is as real, when it runs as  deep as I suspect it does between the two of you, things just have a way  of working themselves out. Mostly because being apart simply isn't an  option."

She spoke with such conviction, such certainty, I wanted nothing more  than to believe her. Looking down at my stomach, at how much it'd grown,  I knew I didn't have a whole lot of time left. The thought of doing  this on my own had all but faded over the last few months as Marco and I  drew closer. Now, I was feeling that fear I had in the beginning  creeping back in.

"What if you're wrong, though?" I asked. "Aside from me telling Marco  what I feel tonight, I think I cut him pretty deep by lying to Ced like I  did." I brought my hand to my forehead. How could I have been so  stupid? Such a coward? If I'd been strong enough I would've just told  the truth. Then, Marco and I could've had the exact same conversation  after everyone cleared out, but it would have gone a whole lot smoother.  For one, Marco wouldn't have been defensive because he wouldn't have  had to defend his character.

I can admit that I messed up there. The tone of the conversation being  one set in negativity was totally my fault regardless of how valid my  concerns.

"If I'm wrong," Mona said next, preparing to answer my question, "then  you're still going to be okay. If it's not meant for you two to work  this out, you'll make it through because you're strong, Brynn."         

     



 

Strong …  I certainly hadn't looked at myself that way lately.

As much as they could, Mona's words settled me enough that I could rest  and find some inkling of peace after she'd gone. I still wasn't  convinced that all would turn out exactly the way I wanted it to, but it  seemed silly to lie here worrying about a future I couldn't see, nor  could I control. The only thing there was left for me to do was hope  Marco and I found a way through this new phase we entered into.

It seemed as though we reached a stalemate.



Marco

He'd put so much into this. The clean, smooth lines and even finish made  that clear. It was my hope that this labor of love would, from this day  forward, be an heirloom that could be passed down from one generation  to the next.

My father stood back, admiring his handiwork as we secured the last  screw that assembled the crib he'd built with his own two hands. The  pride in his expression was clear and he had every reason to feel that  way.

"Looks good, Pop," I said with a smile, placing my hand in the center of  his back as we stood there eyeing the piece together. We'd been at this  all day. Not just assembling the crib, but painting and setting up the  nursery in general. We brushed on the first coat of pale yellow paint  first thing this morning-around six-giving it a chance to dry some  before doing the second layer. Standing in the middle of the room,  visions of a small girl playing here, growing here, filled my mind and I  smiled. She'd be beautiful-equal parts me and her mother.