Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Ten

Scott

Love is the bridge between you and everything. —Rumi

Harrison’s callleft us a little shaken even though it’s procedure that we talk before a dangerous mission. I should be used to it, but the conversations always leave a bad taste in my mouth and a pain in my stomach. Hazel knows about it, so when she heard “off-the-grid,” her body tensed. I proposed taking a walk, knowing it’d keep her mind away from the conversation with my brother.

“This is something I’ll never understand.” She stops for a second, taking her water out of the hiking backpack to get a drink. “Your love for bridges.”

“They’re beautiful structures,” I respond.

That’s one side of the story. Bridges connect places. Cities, countries, and people come together because of them. I was the peacemaker of the four. The one who made sure we didn’t fight—unless I wasn’t in the mood, and then I’d be the one starting the fights. Dad used the analogy of bridges to explain my place in the family.

Then we built bridges with blocks. One day, we recreated the Brooklyn Bridge. It was terrible, so we went to visit it and tried again. After that, it became our thing. To go to a bridge and replicate it with blocks. Walking, driving, or just visiting them makes me feel closer to my father. I want to tell her that, but I choose not to discuss it when Fitz is next to us. The questions will follow. She’s always eager to learn about my parents. Our family is her favorite subject. However, at some point, she triggers a memory that will either make us laugh or cry.

“When are we going surfing?” Fitz asks, getting ahead of us.

“Over the weekend?” Hazel chews her lip; her gaze moves toward the water. “First, we have to go to the house in Santa Cruz.”

She inhales and exhales. “After that, we can plan.”

I take her hand, squeezing it lightly. She doesn’t fight my hold. Actually, her face relaxes slightly. I lean close to her and whisper, “We’ll go together. It’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, I’m…” She tries to take her hand back.

“Tell me what you need,” I beg her because I can feel her slipping further away from us and into the sadness.

“Race you to the end of the bridge?” She smiles and takes off without waiting for me to agree.

Fitz stops, turns around, and tilts his head. “She’s not okay.”

“She’s trying hard to stay afloat.” I shrug. We both know how she deals with depression. “If she wants to buy you a new wardrobe—”

Fitz chuckles. “I’ll let her. She can manage my agenda for the next ten years.” Then he takes a deep breath. “Ready?”

We both nod and run to catch up with her. This might not be New York, but I can see us making a home here, having a family. Just like Fitz, I believe my other brothers will come and visit us.

The nightsin San Francisco are unpredictable. Yesterday, it was damp, but today, it’s clear and inviting. Hazel wanted to order pitas and spend the evening gazing at the city from the rooftop. Fitz left after ten. She sits next to me, resting her feet on top of the metal chair. Her eyes are glued to her e-reader. When Edwin McCain’s song “I’ll Be” starts, I rise from my seat and take her hand.

“Do you want to dance?”

She serves me a guarded glare.

“We’ve done it for years, even before…” I stop myself from discussing our failed relationship.

She arches an eyebrow. “Some days, I want to erase everything that happened between us so we can go back to the way we used to be.”

I want to ask her if she regrets what we’ve had for the past two years. But I stop myself because I have no idea what her real mood is. If her depression has taken over, whatever she says is magnified.

I bow to her like a noble gentleman, holding my hand up. “One dance, please.”

She finally takes it, joining me, and leaving the tablet on top of her chair. “It’s been a long time,” she mumbles.

Too long to remember when we last danced. But I’ll never forget the feeling of her body pressed against mine. The only way I come alive is when she’s close to me. I enjoy what she’s giving me. For as long as it’s necessary, I’ll steal these moments, cherish them as if they might be the last ones. We dance slowly to the rhythm of the music.

No words are exchanged for a while, but after the seventh song, she sighs. “I want to pause time.”

“Where would you want to be?” I kiss Hazel’s beautiful forehead, then rest my chin on top of her head.

“Maldives a year ago, celebrating the new year.”

“Close your eyes,” I suggest. She angles her head, giving me an inquisitive glare. “Trust me, gorgeous.”

She does and leans her head on my chest. “We are by the beach, dancing while watching the fireworks.” I hold her tight, swallowing the desire to take her to bed.

“That was the best trip,” she mumbles. “Even Grandpa came along.”

“You miss our family, don’t you?”

“Yes and no,” she responds. “Being here allows me more room to make mistakes. It allows me to think about what I need.”

“They love you the way you are. Maybe you should stop trying to please everyone.”

“That’s a tall order.”

I nuzzle her hair, resigned to take one step at a time. We’re starting this relationship from zero. Slowly, I have to win her over and make her fall in love with me. But I want her to trust me with her pain.

Give me your sadness, baby.

“Remember when you taught me how to dance?” she asks.

Those big eyes shine with the reflection of the moon. “I love when you teach me. It doesn’t matter if it’s math, economy, dancing or …” She flushes, and though her eyes look as innocent and eager as they were back when I taught her how to dance, her mind isn’t thinking about our first waltz. She’s thinking about sex.

“There was a lot to teach you before your first big event,” I recall, diverting my mind from the images of Hazel naked, sweaty, and screaming my name. “You couldn’t believe there were more than two types of forks.”

“Salad and entrée,” she huffs.

“A lot more,” I emphasize just to tease her.

“Hey, my parents tried to avoid using utensils. They preferred to eat finger food.” She rolls her eyes. “Without you, I couldn’t have survived my first gala. Now, I could teach you a thing or two.”

“You’ve taught me a lot,” I whisper in her ear, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling her aroma. “I learned that mistakes are just lessons. To fall gracefully, but stand right back up. That if you don’t know it, you learn it.”

“Nobody knows that half of the time, I have no idea what I’m doing—only you.”

“But you study, you master, and conquer.”

“Am I crazy for doing this?”

I think she means the move, and I don’t have an answer. It’ll be safer for us to go back home and continue living the same way we’ve done for the next ten years. Her bravery is shifting our lives. The destination is uncertain, but I’ll hold her hand while we enjoy the journey and we find our path.

“You’re brave for believing in the possibilities.”

“If I fail?”

“Fail what? Why are you here?” I press a kiss to her temple and continue dancing.

She shakes her head, leaning against my chest.

“I’ll catch you. Whatever happens, I’ll never leave you.”

Unless you want me to go.