Well, crap.
All of this wanting to be the perfect husband was her fault.
“Fletcher, I—”
“And you’ve been doing the long term relationship thing where you lived with the guy and all of that. I’ve never done that. Not even close. Now, my first long term relationship is as long term as you can get and it’s with the one woman that I can’t screw up with.”
She frowned. “Fletcher, for God’s sake, you’re not going to screw anything up. But even if we do make a few mistakes here and there, it’s us. I’m the last person you should be worrying about being perfect for. I’ve known you forever. I’ve loved you forever. And now I’m in love with you too. You do not have to freak out about this.”
He stared at her for several beats, then he said, “But the thing is…you and I haven’t done a lot of middles. And I pretty much suck at middles.”
She frowned. “Middles? What do you mean by that?”
“Come on.” He took her hand and tugged her into the living room, but he paused in the doorway, surveying the papers and folders she had scattered everywhere. “Wow.”
“Yeah, Charlie and I got started on some big plans.” She gestured to include all the paperwork surrounding her.
“Looks like you’re diving right in.”
She nodded. “I’ve been working for a couple of hours straight. I don’t remember the last time I had a project I was excited about like this.”
“I’m glad.” He looked down at her. “I’m really glad.”
She smiled. “I know.”
She believed that no matter what else was going through his mind, Fletcher would recognize that she was happy. And that would make him happy. As always.
Just then she heard a rustling in the makeshift pen she’d built in front of the sofa with pillows, cushions, and the animal carrier. “Oh! I forgot! I brought Quilly Wonka home!”
She went over and picked the hedgehog up, scooping her hands underneath the little animal from both sides to pick him up. Griffin had explained that hedgehogs had quills on top, but they were soft on the bottom. If they sensed a threat, like a hand coming at them from the top, they would curl into a ball and extend their quills, but if scooped from underneath they felt secure and the quills could be avoided.
She turned with Quilly to smile at Fletcher.
“Griffin said I need to practice handling the animals and that they need to get used to my scent and voice and being touched and fed by me so that they’re calm and cooperative when I take visitors around the zoo and do presentations.”
Fletcher nodded. “Makes sense.”
“So can we sit on the floor to talk? We can play with him at the same time?” she asked.
Maybe having a cute little animal to focus on would make this conversation easier. She did not want to take things slower, but if it was important to Fletcher, she would.
“Sure. Let me go change. Be right back.”
She watched him bound up the stairs, then she turned her attention to the hedgehog. “This is going to be interesting,” she told him. “I really hope it’s not too much for your little ears.”
Fletcher returned a few minutes later, dressed in gray athletic shorts and a white t-shirt. He joined her on the floor.
“Do you want to—” she started.
“So, I’m really good at endings. But I’m not so good at middles.”
Okay, they were just going to jump right in. Well, that was good.
Probably.
“There’s that ‘middles’ thing again. What does that mean?” she asked, letting Quilly Wonka explore the area of carpet and the papers strewn between her and Fletcher.
“The middle stuff. The stuff that leads up to the big grand gesture. The…hard stuff.” He shrugged. “I love the grand gestures. Not so much the other stuff.”
She had to admit that grand gestures were one of Fletcher’s specialties.
“For example, when Anthony Howell was the lead with you in the school play but then got mono,” he went on.
“Okay.”
“You needed a guy to fill in at the last minute and I agreed to do it. For you. Everyone thought it was so amazing that I’d come through like that. But I didn’t do the hard middle stuff—building the set or all the rehearsals. I just got to swoop in at the end when the play was already all put together and everyone else was awesome and I just happened to know the lines from helping you learn yours.”
She nodded. He was right. He’d always gotten credit for being the one to save the day. To save her day. “And we were good enough friends that we were able to ad lib any lines that you forgot or flubbed,” she added.
“I’ve always been there for you, but I’m always the guy who comes in when you most need someone and all else has failed. Like when you were learning to drive. Your dad put the hard time in. I came in at the end, when he was fed up, and helped you get over your nerves. But he taught you the basics and dealt with the tears. And the crushed traffic cones and the bent fender.”
She grimaced. Her dad had not enjoyed teaching her to drive.
“And when you were having trouble in geometry, I helped tutor you. But you already knew the basics and Mr. Orillon saw you after school for days before I came in to help.”
Okay, also true.
“And I wasn’t the boyfriend,” he went on, “so I didn’t have to deal with your annoying habits all the time or you getting mad at me because I was going out with my friends instead of you and then getting into an argument.”
“Wait, you think I have annoying habits?”
He gave her a look. “But I didn’t have to say that. I got to be the guy who said you were awesome and that Jason was an asshole and then I brought you ice cream or flowers and I was the big, sweet best friend.”
She thought about that. Yeah, Fletcher had always sided with her.
“And then there was Vegas…” he said dryly. “The ultimate grand gesture.”
“But…I needed you.”
“I know. But dammit—” He looked and sounded frustrated. “I swooped in and ‘saved’ you when things got really bad and went public. But you and Jason have been drifting apart for a long time. Why didn’t I ever show up in Nashville to see how you were?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “See? I don’t put in the tough time in the middle. But I always get to be the big hero.”
“So you think you’ve been getting off easy all this time. Not really working that hard but getting the credit for being the one who gets me whatever I need. But it’s really just that you come through when everyone else has failed and there’s no way to screw it up.”
She understood what he was saying. And he wasn’t wrong. But some of this was on her too, for letting him think that he was Mr. Perfect.
“I have been,” Fletcher insisted. “I’ve been doing it on purpose.”
“What?”
“I didn’t realize it at first. Like with the school play. But I always come in when it’s easy to save the day. There was literally no one else who could have filled in the day before opening night of the play. They were going to push it back. I just had to stand up there and say lines that were close.”