fucked my best friend. Not only did she not care about me on a romantic level, but she didn’t care about me as a friend either…to destroy my relationship with my best friend. It was nice to be with a woman who showed me how much she cared about me every single day, who told me how much she cared about me, who let the tears fall from her eyes because the love she had for me was so paramount. “It doesn’t bother me. I don’t play games, and neither do you. I like that. I like feeling appreciated. I like knowing the woman I’ve given my heart to values me, that she would never gamble my love, that she’s absolutely committed and just the thought of losing me makes her lose her mind.”
She continued to stare at me, speechless.
“And I hope that I make you feel just as valued and appreciated, that I would never gamble what we have, that this relationship is my priority, and I would do everything and anything to keep it.”
Lizzie and I worked together every Tuesday and Thursday, and she continued to impress me with her ability. Now that she believed in herself, she was getting better and better. When we moved on to a new section, no matter how challenging it was, she was ready for it. There was no doubt in her mind she could grasp it.
It was nice to see.
When she came over on Thursday, she was a bit distracted.
In all fairness, I was distracted too, thinking about what I had to do tomorrow.
Her eyes were down most of the time, she didn’t pay attention to what I said, and her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
I waited for her to snap out of it on her, but she never did. “Lizzie?”
She looked at me, still subdued.
“Is there something bothering you?”
She turned back to her notebook and made a few marks on the paper with her pencil, little doodles of dots and scribbles.
I asked my question and let the silence pass, respecting the pause because I needed to take longer pauses than anyone else. Sometimes it took time for me to gather my thoughts, to understand how I felt about something before I commented.
She put down her pencil then turned to me. “You love my mom?”
I stilled at the question, my eyes glued to hers and unblinking, shocked that she’d asked me that. A million different scenarios of a response ran through my head of what my answer should be, but I didn’t know if any of them were the right choice.
She was quiet as she waited for my reply, holding her ground and silently demanding an answer.
Why would she ask that? It was a very specific question, like she knew something. She heard Emerson talk to her mom about me, looked through her mother’s phone and found text messages, something like that.
“Derek?”
If she had heard something, why would she confront me instead of her mother? “Why do you ask, Lizzie?”
“Does it matter?” she asked. “Just answer the question.” Her fiery attitude started to light up, the version of her that I’d seen with her mother. She didn’t take any nonsense, was blunt, and demanded what she deserved.
I sighed as I looked down at the table, knowing I had to be honest. We’d intended to tell her anyway, and she clearly knew something, so I threw caution to the wind and did it. I turned back to her. “Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“I love her very much.” I inhaled a deep breath once the truth left my lips, when it was out into the open for her daughter to hear.
Lizzie continued to stare at me, her fire slowly fading away.
I couldn’t tell how she felt about it.
“Now, answer my question.”
She rested her elbow on the table and cupped her chin with her hand. “I grabbed your book off the shelf to read it, and I saw what you wrote to her.”
I realized my mistake in not telling Emerson that Lizzie wanted to read my book. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. That was my fault for not thinking ahead when I wrote that to her, knowing she wasn’t the only person living in that apartment. “Why are you confronting me instead of your mother?”
“Because you’re the one who wrote it.”
I gave a slight nod in understanding. “I meant what I said, Lizzie. She’s…the love of my life.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this to a twelve-year-old, but I’d become more comfortable