Second Chance for Romance полностью

“So I want to have a relationship with you—I think you do too—but I don’t want to end up in a situation where you feel guilty about anything we do together. That’s why I overreacted after the party, when you went to Mass.

I know you enjoy going to church. I know it makes you happy. But I also think you have this unrealistic model in your head about what a ‘good Catholic girl’ is. Maybe you can talk to Sara about it. She was raised Catholic, so she understands the pressure you’re under better than I do.

“And just so you know, I don’t want you to give up your faith. I guess I hope you can find a way to enjoy it and accept that no one wants you to be a madonna on a pedestal. I certainly don’t. I want someone real, with flaws and everything. And if one of your flaws is that you like wild sex or kinky fantasies, that’s okay too.”

She snorted. “I bet it is!”

“Seriously. I see something in your eyes. I feel it when we kiss. You’re holding back and hiding a lot. Maybe because it scares you. Maybe because you think it’ll scare me. It won’t. Trust me.” I paused to let my words sink in.

“But that’s why I wanna take things slow,” I went on. “I don’t wanna rush and have sex before you’re ready. I may end up with a permanent case of blue balls, and we may have some misunderstandings and hurt feelings along the way, but I think you’re worth it. No pain, no gain. Right?

“So… that’s what I wanted to talk about. I know it’s a lot, but it’s really important to me. I’m sorry you have to deal with my baggage from Kendall.

You aren’t like her in one important way. You’re more honest with yourself, so you’re willing to change. Your Dying Replicant sculpture really convinced me. You had a good idea, but you changed it when it wasn’t exactly what you wanted.” I fell silent for a moment and stared at my hands.

“I guess I’m hoping I’m what you really want,” I said at last. “I know I’ll have to change too, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I mean, that’s what relationships are all about, right? Compromise.”

“I…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, I guess. But think about it. Talk to Wren. And maybe talk to Sara. She likes you, and I think she’ll give you honest advice.

And… one more thing.”

“What?”

“If you decide I’m full of crap and don’t know what I’m talking about, or you just don’t want to deal with my issues, or whatever… let me down easy, before I get my heart broken. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly.

I nodded once and then stood. On impulse I bent to kiss her cheek. I thought she might rebuff me, but she turned toward me instead.

The kiss was tender and affectionate, and it surprised us both.

“I’ll… I’ll think about what you said,” she said.

“Okay. And I’ll lay off the flirting and seduction for a while. We can just be friends. No matter what else happens, I hope we never lose that.”

She nodded.

“I’m gonna go for a run. Again. I’m still tired from the first one, but I need to think. And I’ll probably kick myself for screwing up what might’ve been a really good relationship while it lasted.”

“You didn’t screw it up. I just…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to think.”

“That makes two of us.”

The phone rang later that afternoon. Wren and Trip had returned a couple of hours earlier and she answered it. She shouted up two flights of stairs, “Paul, phone!” I set aside my X-Acto knife and fitted the piece of foamcore to my model. She yelled again.

“Hold your horses!” I hollered back. “One minute. Take a damn message if it’s so urgent!”

Christy stuck her head into my studio. “Want me to see who it is?”

“Nah. I got it. Just needed to get this piece into place before the glue dries.” I tapped gently and slotted it into position. Then I wiped my hands on my rag. (I’d become obsessive about clean hands. You learn that lesson when you have to replace an entire wall section because you smudged it with dirty fingers. But again, I digress.)

I ran downstairs to my bedroom. I smiled and thought of Erin as I picked up the phone.

“I got it. Thanks.”

Wren hung up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Paul. It’s Mom.”

“Oh, hey! Sorry I haven’t called in a while. Been busy with a project. It’s due the week after Thanksgiving, and I still have a lot to do. It’s for Professor Joska, so I can’t wait to the last minute if I want an A.”

“When did my little boy become a grown-up?”

“I’ll let you know when it happens. Till then, I’m just a scared kid who doesn’t want to disappoint his elders.”

“So I’m your ‘elder’ now?”

“Technically, yes. But not in this case. The elder in question is Joska.” I did a credible imitation of his accent, “You’ll have to do better than that, Mr.

Hughes.” I shook my head in frustration. “Sometimes he drives me crazy, Mom. I swear to God, I think he makes up stuff to ding me on. ‘This line is too fuzzy, Mr. Hughes. Use harder lead. The grain in this wood looks like birch, not poplar. Your proportions are too much like Wright. They should invoke Hughes. Do not copy. Innovate!’”