“I’m sorry you don’t have more support from your family.” She turns her gaze out the window, looking uncharacteristically morose. “I just wish I had more time.” To me, then. “Will they come to the wedding, do you think?”
I feel a flutter in my belly. Wedding. Wedding? That’s a reality. I said yes to that. But…the prospect of actually getting married? Yikes. It’s a little scary.
She’s regarding me intently. “You’re having second thoughts about that.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question.
“No, I’m not.”
She snorts. “Don’t be fake with me, Westley.”
I squeeze the steering wheel hard. “It’s not second thoughts. I said yes and I meant it.”
She shakes her head, pats my hand; it feels a little condescending. “That was a TikTok video, Wes. The time I’ve had with you has already been more incredible than any fantasy I could ever have conjured up for myself. You don’t have to marry me.”
I hold my answer for a moment, looking at my own emotions as analytically as I can, to be sure I’m telling her the truth.
“Jo, listen to me.” I glance at her. Hold her eyes as long as I can spare my attention from the road. “I’m not having second thoughts. Am I feeling…nervous, or…scared? Sure. I don’t know exactly what word you want to use for what I’m feeling, but I promise you it’s not oh god, I can’t do this. It’s more like…holy shit, getting actually married? Am I ready for that, like at all? I take marriage very seriously, Jo. Shit, I take relationships themselves seriously. It’s why I haven’t been willing to date or hook up with anyone, despite the easy availability afforded me by the fact that I’m somewhat famous. I don’t want to date just anyone. And I sure as hell don’t want to marry just anyone.” I pause to change lanes around a slow-moving semi. “The moment I saw you in that video, the moment I heard your voice, I knew down to the very freaking pit of my soul that we’re…god, I don’t know…connected, somehow. That I’m supposed to be with you. It was an imperative. I had to come to you. I didn’t know why, I still don’t know what it means or where it came from. I’m not sure I believed in, like, divinely appointed soul mates or whatever—I still don’t. But if they exist, divinely appointed soul mates, I mean, then you and I are that. We’re connected in a way beyond what’s normal. Deeper than what I can explain in any kind of rational way.”
She blinks hard. “You believe that?”
“I absolutely do.”
“I feel it too. For me, it was easy to blame it on the fact that I had this crush on you, as a celebrity, right? Like oh, I just like him because he’s hot and talented. I mean, shoot, every straight female on the planet probably has at least a little crush on you. So I guess I’ve been trying to blame it on that. But it’s not just that. When I met you, when you showed up at my door, I looked at you and I just…I felt something. Like you said, in my soul. The fact that you’re you, you’re the Westley Britton? That kind of…stopped being important. How can we be connected when we just met? I don’t know. But we are. And I…” she swallows hard. “I’m afraid, Wes.” This is a whisper.
“Of what?”
She hesitates. Stammers. “I…I…” A sigh. Then, in a barely audible voice, face turned away: “Of letting you get too close.”
“I won’t hurt you, Jo. I promise. I’m not gonna flake out or change my mind or panic. I’m in this for the long haul, no matter what.”
She shakes her head. Her gaze turns to her lap, to her fingers pressing into her thighs. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Wes. It’s you.”
“You can’t worry about me, Jo. It’s my choice.”
“I know. But…what happened back there, in Cheyenne? That’s just going to get worse. Harder, and harder. Good days are going to be outnumbered by bad days. And then there’ll only be bad days, and then I’ll be dead, and you’ll be alone, stuck in love with me but I’ll be dead. It’s not enough time, Wes. There’s too much and there’s not enough time. If I let you…” She swallows, huffs, tries again. “If I let you fall in love with me for real, you’re just going to end up broken. And I don’t know that I can deal with having that on my conscience.”
“You can’t stop me from falling in love with you, Jo. You can refuse to be with me. You can refuse to let yourself fall in love with me. You can push me away. You can go back home and ignore me. But you can’t control how I feel. I don’t say this to be belligerent. It’s just not your choice—it’s mine. And I choose…you.”
“Why?” She stares at me, blinking hard. “Why, Wes? Because you feel like we’re fated to be together? Because that’s not a good reason. That feels like obligation.”
“It’s not obligation, it’s attraction. And why shouldn’t I choose you? Why not? You ask why, and I ask why not?”
“Why not?” She laughs bitterly. “Because I’m going to die soon, Wes, that’s why. It’s the emotional version of a suicide mission.”
“That’s my business.”
“But why would you want to? What is it about me that makes it worth it for you?”
“Who you are. Your strength of character. Your intelligence. Your musical talent. Your physical beauty.”
She snorts. “Yeah, okay.”
I sigh, feeling frustrated. “Jolene, for real, you need to get over this misconception you have that physical beauty and attraction relies solely on the shape of your body. I am attracted to you physically. Right now, just as you are. No, you don’t have ginormous boobs and a Kardashian ass. So what? That’s not what determines beauty. That can be one aspect of physical beauty. But it’s not everything. And a person can be beautiful without that. And you are. You are beautiful. Objectively, and also subjectively to me.” I touch my fingers to her forearm, gently. “For example, I don’t think there’s anyone who could deny that someone like—let’s say…Keira Knightley. She’s beautiful. She’s successful, talented, and beautiful. But she’s not beautiful because of her curves, nor is she less beautiful for any kind of lack thereof, right? There are many, many different types of bodies in this world, Jolene. There are many, many different qualities of beauty. You’re fixating and finding your self-worth in one very narrow aspect.”
She’s quiet for a long, long time. “I just…this is hard to put into words, what I’m thinking, what I want to say.” Another silence. “I’ve often felt disconnected from my body, Wes. It’s a…a layer of self-defense, psychologically and emotionally. I’ve spent so much of my life in pain, feeling sick, and under the influence of drugs that separate me from sensation to protect me from that pain. So then, even if I’m not in pain or drugged up, it’s hard for me to feel fully in my body. Connected to my…physicality, so to speak. Because it’s just easier not to. I’m more than my body. My life, my inner life, my sense of who I am…it’s not centered in my body, it’s in my mind. I can lay in bed and be sick and sort of disconnect myself from that sensation, and live in my mind. Think about things, daydream, pretend, plan. Watch movies, listen to music. Sure that uses my physical senses, but not my body, so to speak. So I’ve never…felt…centered in my physical body.”