“You stood me up after our amazing kiss!”
“Oh.” I grimace. “Yeah, I was drunk.”
“That’s no excuse! You knew that kiss gave me fireflies! You knew that, and you got off on that, the same way you got off on me spying at you playing drums through my bedroom window. So, you whispered all those amazing things into my ear, to keep those fireflies swirling in my belly, to keep your ego stroked, and then you left me sitting in my hotel room, waiting for a text that never came. I sat there like an idiot, waiting for you to show up and do everything you’d promised me, Colin. What kind of asshole leaves a girl hanging like that?”
“I tried to come to you, but you’d texted me the wrong room number!”
“What?”
I nod effusively. “When I got your text, I beelined out of Daxy’s room so fast, I practically tripped over my feet. But then some old lady answered the door and screamed at me for waking her up.”
Amy palms her forehead. “Oh my God.” She gasps. “Did you drop a bottle of booze in the hallway?”
“Yeah! When that old lady chewed me out!”
Amy rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, in the end, though, considering your decision the next morning to ‘let me down easy.’” She snorts. “Trust me, if I didn’t know you were imperfect before then, I would have figured it out.”
I exhale. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Yeah, and I thought you were being too big a coward to do what you truly wanted to do.”
“It’s not being a coward to say, ‘Hey, let’s not get both our families all riled up before we know, for sure, if—”
“But that’s not what you said!” she shrieks. “You said I was ‘off-limits’ to you. Because, apparently, you care more about my brother’s imaginary feelings than your own. But, okay, fine. Let’s pretend I thought you were perfect when I showed up on your doorstep in LA.” She snorts again. “Trust me, I didn’t. But let’s say I did. Well, guess what? I would have figured out pretty damned skippy you’re a deeply flawed motherfucker.”
“What the fuck? I rolled out the red carpet for you! I got your favorite flowers for your dresser!”
“And that was very sweet of you. Thank you. But this is a conversation about how you’re not perfect, and, unfortunately, thoughtful flowers don’t erase the fact that it turns out you can be a moody, broody, closed-off, self-absorbed, manipulative motherfucker who gets off on having a little puppy following him around and fawning over his every smile. A puppy who takes whatever little breadcrumbs he deigns to drop on the floor for her to gobble up, knowing full well she’s dying to be fed the entire freaking loaf.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Shit. Amy’s not taking any prisoners. I’m being decimated here.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” Amy challenges. “Are you ready to stop hearing the brutal truth yet?”
“Not if you’ve got more of it to tell me.”
“Oh, I do.”
“Then give it to me, Red. All of it.”
“Gladly.” She paces back and forth in my living room, gearing up. “I don’t love the fact that you’ve got three cars, and that stupid behemoth of a coffee maker that has no business being in a home where only one human bachelor resides. That thing is built for restaurants!”
“That’s what makes it so fucking cool!”
“I wouldn’t give a crap what you spend your money on, if you spent a little more of it on making the world a better place. But you don’t. You were sweet to take care of your mom and give your sisters cars. And I’m thrilled you support the charities you do. But you’ve clearly got more money than you know what to do with, and also an amazing platform and some time on your hands, and the fact that it doesn’t even occur to you to do something really meaningful with all that tells me you’re more selfish and materialistic than my ideal man would be.”
I smirk. “Guilty as charged.”
“Also, it drives me bonkers the way you shove things into drawers and closets, without the slightest bit of organization. You’re cool with things looking neat and perfect, on the outside, when, underneath, they’re a hot mess!” She levels me with two pools of green fire. “In my opinion, that’s a metaphor. You look amazing and perfect, on the outside. You’ve worked hard to make it so—and kudos to you for that. But underneath that perfect body and ink, let’s face it, babe, you’re a hot fuckin’ mess!”
I press my lips together. Yet again, she’s not wrong.
“That would also be fine with me, since, as I’ve mentioned, I’m a creeper werewolf and not even close to perfect myself. As we both know, a freaking cereal commercial can easily make me sob. Also, I get frazzled easily and can’t keep a poker face to save my life. But see, I know all that about myself, whereas you don’t even realize what a hot mess you are—how guarded and closed-off you can be from your true emotions, whatever they may be.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Do you even know why you love acting so much?”
I cross my arms over my chest, matching her position. “Enlighten me.”
“It’s the only time you give yourself permission to express your honest emotions, without holding back, and without feeling embarrassed about them. Acting forces you to dig deep inside yourself, in a way you don’t normally allow yourself to do.”
Goosebumps. They’re suddenly erupting all over my arms and neck, raising every hair on my body. Holy shit. She’s amazing.
“I don’t know what turned you into this paragon of bottled-up masculinity,” she says, “but it’s insanely frustrating for anyone who loves you! Which I do.” She exhales. “I could go on and on, but there’s no point, when the bottom line is that I’m willing to look past your many, many flaws and accept them—and you—the real you—exactly as you are. Without trying to change you, other than organizing your fucking closets. Because that’s what love is, you stupid fucking dumbass. It’s accepting the bad with the good and loving all of it, because you know one doesn’t come without the other.”
My breathing hitches. This woman is melting my brain and causing my heart to race.
Her anger softens. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve told you most of the reasons you infuriate me. Now let me tell you some of the reasons you make me adore you.” Amy smiles shyly. “You’ve got a heart of a gold, Colin Beretta, and so much more love to give than you even realize. One smile from you melts me, all the way down in my soul. Oh, man, you just do it for me. You’re passionate and talented. So talented, I’m in awe of you. You’re funny and thoughtful. Generous and kind. A good listener. You’re loyal. You’d throw yourself in front of a moving train for the people you love the most. And despite what I said about you being self-absorbed at times, you’re also shockingly humble and down to earth, considering how talented and gorgeous you are and everything you’ve accomplished.” The tenderness on her face flashes to anger again on a dime. “That’s why I constantly swoon for you, motherfucker! Not because I think you’re anywhere close to perfect!”