ignore the rest of the world. What was wrong with that?
“Do you really think Mariska wanted to paint something like this?” The yes was at the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. He must have sensed that because he shook his head. “She was a lot of things, but she wouldn’t have put herself out there like this unless she felt a reason to. And you know what? If I think hard enough, I can probably remember the day she finished this. Not long before she left, she looked lighter. Like a weight had been lifted. The truth, I suppose.”
“The world already knows my truth.”
“You are the only one who knows your truth,” was his argument. His voice was hard, not willing to give me room to disagree. “You told me how angry you were, but it isn’t for the same reasons people probably think. Paint that. Hell, Della. Paint whatever makes you feel something.”
I looked at him for a long moment, knowing what was about to pass my lips was pushing the boundaries he’d drawn. “What if what makes me feel something involves you? Us?”
He didn’t even pause. “Then paint us how you see us. Scarred. Broken. Beautiful. Make it real, because reality fucking hurts, Della.”
“Is that…how you see us?”
That time, there was hesitation. “I see two people who have seen what the world can do to those less deserving of its wrath.”
It became hard to swallow as I absorbed his words. Did he think we somehow deserved what was coming to us? What had happened? That wasn’t normally how he spoke, not about anything I’d endured.
“I see.” Forcing out the words through my tight lips, I brushed off the hurt and stepped away from him.
He cursed when he realized what he said, reaching out to cup my arm just above my elbow. I stared at the contact, waiting for him to draw back like he normally did. “I didn’t mean it like that. How many times have I told you that you were never at fault for what’s happened? It’s me, Della, that the world would punish in a heartbeat. It’s gone after people who didn’t warrant that type of treatment, but me? It’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan and I’m not taking you down with me when it does.”
“Why?”
He scoffed. “What do you mean ‘why’?”
“Why would you assume the world is after you when you’ve been nothing but kind? You took care of a child that wasn’t yours. You sacrificed your time to a person you didn’t need to. Pretend you’re some ruthless businessman, but that isn’t who you are to me. If I don’t deserve being treated like shit because of things I couldn’t control, you shouldn’t either.”
“That’s your viewpoint, little Della.”
“Stop.” Abandoning the naivety that told me to flee the room, I opted to crowd him where he stood by his ex’s painting instead. “You no longer get to act like I’m too young. I can’t handle the hot and cold from you. One second, I’m an adult and the next, when it’s convenient for you, I’m little Della again. I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”
His features hardened, not in offense but something else. Caution. Jaw ticking, he remained silent on his own accord which only fueled my agitation further.
“You can’t have this both ways, Theo. I won’t play a part in your life as anybody but me. Adele Maria Saint James. Twenty-two. The little girl you taught to slow dance, to ride a bike, the one you learned to braid hair for, she’s gone. She grew up. She is standing right here waiting for the man she adores more than anything in this world to see her for what she is instead of what he pretends to view her as for his own protection. You want to be the big man on the block—the person the world should fear and punish? Then own up to it for once.”
The low growl that rose from his throat should have told me to back down, especially when he closed the gap between us and towered over me. I kept my head held high just like he always told me to do. It was that moment when he knew he’d raised me to be his biggest downfall, I could see it in his wavering demeanor. His walls were crumbling. All. Because. Of me.
What did he expect? We’d been circling around this pent-up frustration for over a year.