As Long As You Love Me

He sighed softly. “She said I had potential.”

“Excuse me?”

“Avery was always saying I could make something of myself if I tried. Nobody else ever thought that, not even when I was a kid. My parents talked about Nadia going to college from the time she was eight years old, but with me, it was always, ‘Rob’s got a good heart. Rob gets along so well with people.’ My aunt’s always mumbling, ‘At least he’s handsome,’ like I don’t know what that means.”

Wow. I normally liked Rob and Nadia’s family, but right then I wanted to punch them.

He went on, “There was a state school that offered me an athletic scholarship. Football. But my dad goes, ‘Some people are meant to work with their hands, and there’s no shame in it. I got you through high school but I can’t carry you to a four-year degree. So unless you can make it on your own, I think you have to pass.’”

“Why didn’t you try?”

“Because he was right,” he said quietly. “I’d have needed tutors to get through pretty much every class and I’m not so great at football that the university would’ve paid for that, definitely not good enough to go pro. Even if I did squeak out a degree, I can’t think of any job that would suit me better than what I’m doing. So what would’ve been the point?”

I had no answer for that. Though I had all kinds of quirks, my brain was sharp enough to do pretty much anything I wanted it to. Rob’s pain was tangible, built up over years of people dismissing him as a sweet, good-natured lummox without the acuity to register the offense of it. And that just wasn’t true. I reached over and took his hands; they were big and rough, a testament to years of building. He cupped his fingers around mine, apparently taking comfort in the connection. For me, it wasn’t enough. But he didn’t let down his walls often enough for me to pull back.

“So then Avery came along. She was smart, pretty and ambitious. When we started dating, she said she saw the potential for greatness in me—between the two of us, we could go places. With her help, I could run my own business. That’s why she was so critical...she was trying to make me better.”

I didn’t think that was why at all, but now I understood why Rob let her get away with it—because of what she represented. She was clever, no question, and if it took her questioning my morals to make him break free, then I wouldn’t argue that point. But I couldn’t let the other assumption stand.

“That’s predicated on the bullshit opinion that you need fixing,” I snapped. “You don’t need to be molded into somebody else. Right now, without Avery’s help, you can run a business. Outsource the bookkeeping. A lot of business owners do it to free up time for more important stuff. And you can do it without listening to somebody catalogue your faults.”

He stared at me with a guarded expression. “You think I can make a go of the furniture design thing we talked about?”

“Absolutely. That, or house flipping. You’re kind of amazing. I mean, you’re a great cook, you bought a house already and you’re renovating it top to bottom. I’ve already learned a lot from working with you. Bottom line, I believe in you, Rob, and not because I’m sleeping with you. I don’t want to change anything about who you are. I also don’t expect you to make a ton of money and buy me things.” I stared at him, hard, willing him to make the connection.

Comprehension dawned slowly, but there it was. “I had a lucky escape, huh? If I’d married her, the divorce would’ve wiped me out.”

There was no benefit to being anything but brutally honest. “Knowing you, if there were kids involved, you would’ve stuck it out, no matter what she did or said.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

I grinned. “Then you should thank me for being such an irresistible home wrecker.”

“Thanks, Lauren.” He tugged gently on our joined hands and I tumbled into his arms.

He smelled of minty soap and snowy air, a freshness that made me breathe him in. I was in no hurry to get free, so I tucked my face against his neck and shivered each time he exhaled into my hair. Maybe he thought it was weird that I didn’t just thump him on the back a few times, but the last time he held me this way, I was sobbing too hard to enjoy it. This time I registered the strength of his chest and arms, his fierce, protective heat. Once Rob came down on your side, he never wavered. His hands were gentle as he stroked my back; each pass lit me up with more tingles.

I never saw him touch his sister like this.

Though I’d be happy to do this all day, we had work to do. So I sat back and curved my hand against his cheek, not something I’d have done before this talk, but we were closer now. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Rob said in apparent surprise. Then he pulled my palm down so it was open, facing up, and with one fingertip, he traced a curve. “You...” Then he repeated the motion on the other side, joining the invisible lines. “Are good for me.”

As he released me, and I curled my fingers instinctively, I realized he’d drawn a heart on my hand. Flustered, I tried to downplay my role in this conversation. “Avery wasn’t right for you. Anyone who cares would say the same.”

“Not everyone sees me like you do,” he answered.

Tiny shivers washed over me as I replayed how good it felt in his arms. “Their loss.”

Our eyes met for a long moment. I fell into the deep blue, briefly veiled by the thick fringe of his lashes when he blinked. His jaw was lightly stubbled, his mouth soft with the hint of a smile. I wished for some kind of secret message hidden in this silence, but it was enough that Rob seemed to be in a better mood; I considered cheering him up for a job well done.

“Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat. “Ready to get to work?”

When we got to Rob’s place, the dining-room floor was ready to be stained. He must’ve been up half the night, completing preparations, but he didn’t reveal any hint of how exhausted he must be. That was when I realized fully how much he’d mastered the calm facade—to protect his privacy and keep the world at bay. People made the mistake of thinking he didn’t feel much, but it wasn’t that way at all. Everything was just hidden like a deep, deep well, and then sealed shut with an iron lid. Wistfully, I wondered what it would be like if he let me in. In retrospect, my crush seemed embarrassingly juvenile, based mostly on, OMG, he’s so hot. But there was so much more to him. Because after getting to know him better, I was falling hard. I couldn’t write it off as infatuation; these feelings were real.

He seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil. More cheerful now, he showed me the proper way to apply the stain. I was surprised when he damped the wood with meticulous care. At my puzzled look, he clarified, “It’s the best way to make sure the stain soaks in. I’m glad you’re here, this is actually a two-person job. I’ll apply the stain, then you go behind me and wipe it off.”

That seemed counterintuitive, but he was the pro, and it wasn’t like I minded working so close. At some point, I needed to back off, invent a reason why I couldn’t see him every day, but I wasn’t heartless enough to do it the day after he broke up with his girlfriend. With luck, I’d get the receptionist job, solving this dilemma without any need for complicated machinations.

By the time we finished the first coat, I was incredibly sticky. No euphemisms, I just wasn’t as tidy as Rob. Fortunately, he’d foreseen that we needed an exit strategy, and we finished on the side by the living room, not the far wall.

He laughed when he saw I’d managed to smear it on my shirt. “That probably won’t come out.”

“It’s well worth the sacrifice.” The floor looked fantastic, a smooth shade of golden oak that brightened the space. “Does it need another coat?”

“I don’t want it darker, so I’ll probably do a satin finish seal next.”

I nodded, like I completely understood what he was talking about. “What color for the dining room?”

“White ceiling and baseboards. I haven’t decided on the walls yet.”

“Lemon-yellow would be pretty.” But that might be too girly.

“Come with me to pick out the paint...I’m not much of a color guy. You could probably guess that from the tan bedroom.”

Maybe I was reading too much into this, but it seemed too personal to help him decorate, like imprinting myself permanently on his house. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. I trust you.”

Nothing he could’ve said would have made me happier. “Then I’m in.”

Before we ate lunch, he sent me upstairs with special solvent to clean up. It was no wonder he’d snickered; I was a mess. I yelled down the stairs, “Do you mind if I shower?”

“Go ahead,” he called back.

I’d used the bathroom before. Like his bedroom, it was finished, remodeled in blue and white tile. The space didn’t have much character, but the workmanship was sound. He needed some fluffy bath mats and pictures on the walls, maybe some candles and good-smelling soap. But he’d said decorating wasn’t really his thing. His house would be simple when he finished, waiting for some woman to add the finishing touches. A pang went through me, so sharp I couldn’t meet my own eyes in the mirror.

I used the chemicals on my hands to remove the stain, then I soaped them, rinsing the stuff off my skin. Afterward, I hopped in the bath to wash up quickly. It gave me a silly, illicit thrill to use Rob’s soap and shampoo, but I shut those feelings down fast. Rob needed time to get over Avery, and in his eyes I was still just a supportive friend.

Fifteen minutes later, I came out with wet hair; not my hottest look, but I felt much better. This wasn’t the normal way to attract a guy—I knew that—but Rob wasn’t the type to be drawn by cleavage shirts, fancy hair or makeup. It seemed like only honesty could pull him.

Rob had BLTs and potato salad waiting down the hall in his room. Taking the plate, I settled in the chair beside him with a happy sigh. “I eat better here than I do at home.”

“My mom made the salad. She thinks I’m living on ramen.”

“The woman doesn’t give you enough credit,” I said absently. “Nobody does.”

He shot me a shy, pleased smile, and his response came out soft, hesitant. “I...like hearing that.”

“It’s the truth,” I said around a bite of sandwich, before I could think better of it.

Sexy. Talk with your mouth full, Lauren.

But he wasn’t even looking at me. Rob tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling with an inscrutable look. “Until we started hanging out, I didn’t even know how bad I felt. Like, it was normal.” He curled a fist and set it against his chest. “To have a knot here constantly. But the more I talk to you, the looser it gets. Until I can’t feel it anymore, and it’s like I’m taking my first deep breath in a long time. Did you ever have that?”

“You mean not realizing something hurt until it stopped?”

“Yeah.”

“Leaving school was like that. I didn’t want to admit I was different. You know how many mornings I freaked out silently about going to class?”

“Because you hate being around people?”

It was impressive he knew that. Even Nadia had bought it when I reinvented myself in high school, changing my personality, my habits, everything. She never questioned that I’d turned into a social butterfly when, in fact, I was just a caterpillar with a pretty parachute. But ultimately, living a lie made me miserable. With my personality, there was no way I could work as a lobbyist without a constant barrage of anxiety attacks.

I nodded. “And you know, maybe I should be strong, get over it and be normal. But that feels like shaving my edges to fit in the wrong slot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Rob said. “It’s not like you’re afraid to leave the house or can’t buy milk from the Stop & Go. So what if you don’t like people?”

That much was true. My social anxiety didn’t prevent me from accomplishing routine tasks. It was more that I’d realized that being a lobbyist would require constant interaction on a level that horrified me. As for college, I hated the parties that other people seemed to view as the Holy Grail, and the only way I could cope was to become someone else. Also, I drank a lot, more than I’d liked to admit. Though I wasn’t a full-on lush when I left, I could’ve easily turned into one of those people never spotted without a glass of wine.

“I was just in denial,” I said.

“About what?”

“The fact that I’m computer dork and always will be. I’m more comfortable behind a screen than joking around at a party. Only booze makes the latter possible. And drinking led me to some questionable life choices.”

“Like what?” I could tell from Rob’s expression that he didn’t expect me to say anything truly shocking.

How cute, Lauren thinks she has a dark past.

It wasn’t like I’d killed anybody, but I did feel bad about hurting Max, my former housemate. I hadn’t realized he really liked me until it was too late.

A contrary impulse made me mutter, “Fucking my roommate, for example.”

“Why was that dumb?” From the slight widening of his eyes, he hadn’t expected me to bring up sex; he radiated a sort of reluctant curiosity.

“For so many reasons. But that wasn’t the stupidest thing I ever did.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask.” Finally, Rob was looking at me as if he understood this wasn’t a joke, and I wasn’t playing around.

I shrugged. “So don’t.”

“But now I’m curious.”

“Well?” I prompted. “Are you asking?”

“I guess I am.” He shifted to face me, eyes steady on mine.

Was I really telling him this? Nadia didn’t even know. But the scare convinced me I had to rethink everything, coming on the heels of another blunder. I couldn’t tell him about that one.

“Drunk Lauren got caught—by a cop—while giving a BJ in a moving vehicle. That’s a misdemeanor, by the way. Indecent exposure and reckless driving.”

“Did you get arrested?” That wasn’t what I expected him to ask.

“The cop gave us both a Breathalyzer test. Luckily, the guy I was with passed. I didn’t. The officer decided my judgment was impaired and let me off with a warning.” I couldn’t face Rob, so I stared at my hands, preparing for the brotherly lecture about my abysmal behavior that was sure to follow.

“I can’t talk about this with you,” he said huskily.

I raised my head, puzzled. “Why not?”

His eyes were storm-dark, not angry. Something else. An emotion I’d never seen in Rob. “I’m human, Lauren. Damn. Like you said before, I’m not your brother, and that mental picture? It’s...distracting.”

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