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The word crazy hits me like a spiked wrecking ball.
All the times I pretended to laugh it off when that Crazy Ex-Girlfriend meme went viral in high school.
The many men who’ve told me I was too clingy.
I’ve always doubted myself in his presence, second-guessing every word, every action, wondering why I wasn’t enough for him.
I will never apologize for loving fiercely, even though you didn’t deserve it.”
I remember what I loved most about love in the first place. Love has the power to strip you raw, to the bone. And that’s the beauty of it.
Knowing, even in the face of heartbreak, that this is not the end. That you’re still standing, after it all crumbles around you.
My heart has now officially broken for the eleventh time. And strangely, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.
In her latest video, she’s parked in her La-Z-Boy in a pale pink sweater with a faux white collar. For twenty consecutive minutes, she does nothing but knit a pair of socks while listening to Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion, profanity and all.
“I accidently fell for my roommate,” I blurt, unfastening my seat belt.
“I know. Your sister told me yesterday during yoga.” Grandma Flo is unperturbed by this revelation.
“Isn’t it obvious? He was trying to declare his love for you at the gala. And seeing you on Daniel’s arm last night, on Valentine’s Day of all days, spooked him.”
I think this is the first time a guy has accused me of not having enough feelings.”
I hate pointless misunderstandings in romance. Why can’t people just have conversations like adults? Lay it all out on the line and avoid the next three hundred pages of turmoil?”
“Then there wouldn’t be a book, would there?”
“My dear, you have a lot to learn about relationships if you think all problems can be solved...
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Real life isn’t a ninety-minute movie or a three-hundred-page novel. It takes time to truly understand what someone else needs and how the other person communicates their love.”
“He’s been sick over you, truly,” she responds. “Who’s been sick?” Angie asks, her dark eyes darting back and forth between us. “Uncle Trevor. He’s in love with Tara,” Payton explains, far too casually.
Apparently, I’m the only one caught off guard by this statement, because Angie just rolls her eyes like this is last week’s news. “Oh. I already knew that.”
Trevor gives her a cocksure smile. “Miss Rapunzel, are you gonna let down your hair for me or what?” Angie giggles and points in my direction. “Nah. But Belle might.”
He swallows, tentative when he spots the piñata and accompanying cast-iron skillet in my hands. “Erm, I’m not so sure. Belle may prefer to bash my face in with cookware.”
I’m trying to grand gesture you. For the second time. And I’m trying not to make an ass of myself.”
I had this whole perfect surprise planned out and it just . . . went to shit.”
I interpreted his lack of communication to mean he didn’t care. And he assumed the same.
“I think we tossed out moving slow on Friday night, didn’t we?” “Technically.”
“Tara, I’ve had it bad for you for months. You. Are. Everything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was scared because I couldn’t stop second-guessing whether you were real and whether you were going to leave too.
“You wanted to get to know me. You wanted to know everything about me. And for the first time, I wanted to let someone in. And when I did, it scared the shit out of me.
I missed you so fucking much. I was so miserable without you, I got sent home early because I was basically useless out there.
I needed to come home and tell you that I want all the things you want. That I’m capable of giving you everything.
I don’t want to go slow, because I can barely breathe when I think about livi...
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I want to complain while you watch Disney movies. I want to alphabetize your books. I want to read with you at nig...
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I want . . .” He lets out a weak half laugh. “I want a family. One day. I want to do literally anything as long as it means being with you, because I am so in love w...
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Because I’m me, my mind blanks entirely, homing in on the only coherent statement echoing in my mind. “I’m really not that messy.”
“Tara, I just told you I loved you and that’s what you take out of it?” I cover my face with my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to declarations of love like this.”
“What are you doing?” I ask in barely above a whisper. “What every good romance hero does.” When I nod, he lets out a sharp breath before his lips fuse to mine, pleading for entrance.
He’s silently telling me he’s mine and I’m his. Finally.
Trevor presents me with something unexpected. A shoe box.
When I open the lid, he’s behind me, his strong hands steadying me around the waist as my knees buckle.
The first item I pull out is a crumpled McDonald’s receipt for a Big Mac and Quarter Pounder combo.
“You kept this?” I ask, misty eyes catching his gaze over my shoulder. He presses a soft kiss on my temple. “Yup.” “Why?” “You said your parents’ first date was at McDonald’s. I guess I thought you might like it one day.”
I start, breathless as the admission takes hold in my gut. I don’t think I can even muster the words to explain what this means to me. It’s not just words. It’s physical proof.
“You hate keeping junk.” “Yup. That box has been killing me,” he admits.
