Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter Thirty-Five
Hazel
The Sun loved the Moon so much he died every night to let her breathe. ~ Anonymous
All nightI had restless dreams about my life, my future. It’s still dark when I wake up. I put on one of my yoga videos, shower after the workout, and throw on some jeans and a shirt. Even though I didn’t sleep well, I’m restless and not willing to spend the next twelve hours in my office.
Hazel: Hi, I’m taking the day off. Can you cover for me?
My phone rings, and Scott’s name flashes along with the picture of his profile watching the sunset from the terrace in his penthouse. I slide my finger across the screen, answering with a weak, “Hi.”
“Is everything okay?” Scott asks, his words come out in gasps.
“Yeah, perfect.” I lie to him as much as I’ve been lying to myself. “How about you?”
“You don’t sound okay. More like tired and sad…defeated,” he summarizes my mood, not answering my question. His voice is short, maybe breathless.
I guess at five in the morning he must be at the hotel’s gym or maybe jogging around San Francisco. “I dare to say you’re in the same place you were when your mother died, or when your father–”
“No, I’m in San Francisco,” I interrupt him.
“I mean emotionally, smart-ass.” He chuckles, and I hear shuffling on the other line, but I don’t ask what he’s doing.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him.
“Then why are you skipping work?” He’s not going to let this go.
Next time, I will let him go to voicemail. But what if he appears on my doorstep because I ignored him? Well, I better think fast about convincing him I’m in a perfect mood and ready to party all morning long.
“I’m going to Santa Cruz,” I inform him and walk into my closet.
The duffel bag with my construction clothes is right next to my tennis shoes. All very convenient for me to grab. My flip-flops remind me I haven’t surfed since I arrived. What’s the point of living so close to the ocean when I don’t get to enjoy it? This weekend I have to buy a board. Whatever happened to my old board?
It might be in the garage. That place might have rats, millions of spiders, and plenty of dust. I should open it today and see what I can find. Reaching for the top shelf, I grab the storage bin and pick a bikini out of the container. I look for my wetsuit and deflate as I see I brought only the half-suits I own. I need a full suit during winter. The water is too cold.
“Uh-uh, I know that sound. What’s going on, Hazel Beesley?”
“Wetsuit, I forgot to buy one.”
“You’re planning on surfing without me?”
“There’s so much to do at the house, and I need physical activity to tire me out,” I explain to him. “After I’m done, it’d be perfect if I can surf to end the day.”
“Hazel.” Scott sighs. “What’s going on, baby?”
My heart melts with his husky voice and concerned tone. That word baby coming out of his mouth warms my cold body. That’s not a word he uses lightly. And when he does, there’s so much emotion behind it. He calls me baby when he knows I’m losing my mind, and I can’t deal with myself.
“Nothing,” I respond, because how can he help me when part of what’s shaking the ground underneath me are his feelings?
Last night’s conversation continues playing over and over in my head.
“Hey, I have a question.”
“Shoot,” he says.
“I understand that you were scared about Elliot reappearing into my life.” I sit on the corner of my unmade bed and close my eyes. “But were you ever going to fix things between us?”
“Yes,” he responds without hesitation. “I should’ve done it sooner. But ‘should have’ and ‘if’ are never part of our vocabulary. It didn’t happen, and here we are.”
There’s a knock on my door. I ignore it because who in their right mind would knock this early in the morning?
“Where are you?” Scott asks.
“Home.”
“Open the door, please,” he asks, knocking on the door once again.
My heart beats fast as I walk toward the living room. He’s here.
“You look tired,” I observe as I swing the door open, and I smile at the sight of him.
Scott sighs, kissing me on the cheek as he enters my apartment. “I didn’t sleep either.”
“This situation is wrecking us both, isn’t it?” I exhale, leaning against the closed door.
“Our situation is impossible.” He cups my face, kissing me gently on the nose, then my mouth.
“I know you’re trying to make him happy while making me happy,” he states, taking me into his arms. “It’s in your nature. The way you see things. No one should suffer because of you. And you feel compelled to make amends with everyone so they’ll love you.”
“I’ve been working on that,” I claim. “Choosing me before I can choose anyone else—that applies to Elliot and you.”
“Know that I’ll always love you, Hazel.” Something in his low voice sends a wave of fear through my body—it’s just not quite right. Uncertainty, maybe?
He presses his lips to my ear. “No matter what you decide. You have me, baby.”
His words are tender and honest. I wish I could breathe, relieved that I know he’ll be by my side no matter what, but there’s no such thing. It’s his stillness that’s keeping the muscles of my back tense.
“You’re just like me,” I whisper. I place my head on his chest and listen to the soothing sound of his heart. But nothing is calming about the beat. It’s thumping hard and erratic.
He releases me and shakes his head. “The only person I want to make happy is you.” He rests his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll go above and beyond to see your smile.”
The agony in his eyes sucks all the air out of the room.
“I should just stay with you.”
“No,” he growls. His intense gaze sends shivers through my body. There’s a fire inside him.
“We opened Pandora’s box,” he proclaims, like a Greek god who has determined the root of our problems. “Now we have to face the consequences and live with them.”
“That’s a little too extreme. There’s no evil around us.”
“Despair came out of the box,” Scott reports, sighing. “Look around. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you relax.”
He places his hands on his back, walking toward the bookcases. Then he halts and turns around, saying, “Christmas weekend.”
“What happened then?” I’m confused by those words.
“That’s the last day you smiled and breathed easily.” He pulls his shoulders back as he loosens his arms. “You were happy.”
“Hope is the only thing left inside the box.” I recall some of the myth, ignoring his observation.
He’s right. Christmas back in Vermont with our family was the last day I didn’t feel like I wanted to crawl inside myself and forget everyone around me.
“That’s what I’m holding on to—hope,” he says, marching toward me and stopping only inches away from me. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything for you, Scotty.”
“I don’t want you to be with me because you don’t want to hurt my feelings.” His tone is firm. His eyes are pleading for me to end the torture.
“I’m sorry.” I want to find other ways to apologize for putting him through this ordeal.
“Don’t be,” he says. “I want you to be sure about your feelings and your future. You should take your time deciding where you belong. I want you with me because you wish to be with me.”
He looks broken and sad, but his voice sounds normal. “Because you love me like you loved no one before.”
I lower my head, unable to respond.
“Today, I’ll fly back to New York.”
My chin trembles as my eyes find his. “You’re leaving?”
He closes his eyes for a couple of beats. “I think it’s for the best.”
“But we had plans for the weekend…”
“Yeah, we had plans. But plans change.” He looks down at the floor and then back at me. “Actually, I wanted us to fly to New York over the weekend to visit a couple of breeders.”
“What kind of breeders?” I try to recover my normal voice to make this a Scott and Hazel everyday conversation.
“Dogs.”
“Dogs, huh?” I scrunch my nose. This isn’t normal. This is unusual for the man who swore he didn’t want anyone in his life.
“French bulldog or Irish wolfhound?” he asks. “They’re great with kids.”
With kids? He’s thinking about having children. Last night, he mentioned he wanted them because of me.
“You never mentioned children before yesterday,” I tell him.
“At least a little girl.” He smiles. “I know everyone says it doesn’t matter, but I’d love to have one.”
I can picture Scott holding the tiny little bundle with his big hands. She’ll have his green-blue eyes, his smile, and that big heart of his.
“With your smile,” I suggest, almost touching this little girl. “But you have to have an Everhart boy, too. They’re dynamite but loving.”
My pulse slows down as I think these children might only be like a niece and a nephew for me. Like Charlie, who I adore, but he has his parents.
“She’d have your eyes, your curly hair, and that wicked smile that tells me you’re up to no good,” he describes her. “Two or three boys. They’ll be best friends, but they’ll fight because that’s what siblings do.”
Our babies.
My pulse runs wild at the prospect of this little girl and a couple of boys. I catch my breath, stopping my imagination from making the same mistake. Creating something out of thin air and just see it disappear when the winds of his disdain pass by. I tear my gaze away from him.
What am I doing?
I touch my throat, and my hand tenses just like the rest of my body. Because I can’t have everything without relinquishing the other. I still have to choose. It’s black or white. Elliot or Scott. San Francisco or New York.
But I want these babies, his children. He steps closer. I examine his face, trying to find answers to my questions. There’s too much going on inside his mind.
“Don’t decide our future just yet, because any decision made in the heat of the moment can create a tragedy.”
“Charlotte Everhart?” I arch an eyebrow.
His mom always had a good quote for every occasion. I’ve heard many, and I don’t think I’ll ever listen to them all.
“No. That one is mine.”
“I wish…” I stop myself from saying anything further, lowering my head and trying to think of something else. Anything but discussing us.
Not a word comes out of my mouth for several beats.
“Do you think you’ll be up for work on Monday?”
I lift my head, surprised by his question.
“Yeah, today it’s just hard to be in one place…” My voice trails along with my gaze.
“I don’t plan on coming back to San Francisco.”
My head snaps, my eyes focus on him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m taking a step back,” he says. “You need to be free to find whatever you have with him.”
“But…” I look at him, wanting to shake some reason into him. “What about us?”
“I can’t see you being pulled by the two of us. This is killing you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re good at shoving your feelings away and pretending that things aren’t affecting you, but I can see it.”
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “I know you.”
Does he?
Does he know that his words are piercing my heart? That every sentence he says is like a pair of hands squeezing my throat. Choking me slowly. That I’m dying. That I’m pushing the tears back because I don’t want him to see me crumble.
If I cry, I won’t stop.
Because I can’t see myself without him. Not now or… “When are you coming back?”
“This is what I propose,” he says gently. “You and Elliot should figure out your relationship. And if you choose him, I’ll be happy for you.”
“Scott,” I mumble, devastated by his words.
“For the sake of your heart and mine, we have to do it this way.” He sighs. “Hazel, you’re the love of my life, and I wish I were yours too.”
I press my lips together when I repeat them inside my head. You’re the love of my life.
He wants to be my last love. I’m the love of his life. The words sink in, and slowly, their meaning is enormous.
Scott groans, running a hand through his hair. “These words were never meant to be said like this. Not when everything between us is up in the air.”
The pain in his words are daggers stabbing my chest, over and over. Can he see me bleeding? I want to beg him to stay with me. Impossible when I promised that I’ll make sure that my heart is free of Elliot before we can go further.
“Scott,” I exhale his name.
He lifts an arm. His palm opened toward me as if telling me to stop. “If you find that Elliot is the happiness and the kind of man who you want to spend the rest of your life with, I’ll support you.”
He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. “This will be your wedding present,” he offers, trying to smile, but it’s just a sad twist of his mouth.
“A house, in your favorite city, where you and that family you’ve always wanted can live happily.”
I bite my lip, holding the prickling tears threatening to fall. Every minute I’m in this city, my life seems darker and darker. This isn’t what I wanted when I planned on coming here. What happened to my clean slate?
“I don’t want to lose you.”
He rolls his eyes as if I’d said something stupid and impossible. “You’ll never lose me. I made a promise to you, remember?”
“What am I supposed to remember?” I close my eyes to gather enough strength to remain standing.
“No matter what, I’ll always be by your side. We have Willow and Hunter in common,” he reminds me. “Charlie is our godchild and nephew. You’ll always be a part of my family.”
My heart stops beating. I feel like he’s peeling my skin away, leaving me raw and vulnerable.
“I have something to confess.” He closes his eyes briefly. “The first time we kissed, I knew I should’ve stopped right there. You weren’t in the right place, but I…”
He stops. His Adam’s apple moves slowly. “I wanted to make the pain go away, and I thought words weren’t enough.”
“Since North Carolina,” I admit. “When Willow tried to commit suicide, and you went to pick me up. That’s when I first wanted to kiss you. That’s the day that I wanted us to be more.”
“I became addicted to you,” he confesses. “Every time we were together, I promised myself it’d be the last time. I promised that if he came back, I would let you go, but I broke that promise because I love you so much.”
He stares at the ceiling. “How do I survive without you?”
Don’t leave me,I want to beg him.
“What if he’s not who I’m in love with?” My voice is small, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m lying to him or because I don’t want to listen to his answer.
“Then you’ll come back to me. But as long as there’s a lingering doubt surrounding your heart, I have to leave.”
“But what if?” I repeat.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, and I don’t think I ever will, Hazel. If you choose him, I’ll be fine. It’ll take me some time to adjust, and I’ll ask you to give me space. That for the time being, you stay on your side of the country while I grieve and recover. But later, I’ll be back by your side. I can’t wait to see what you do with the house and your little family. I swear I’ll love your children as much as I love Charlie. Even more, because they’ll be yours.”
Everything he says is breaking me little by little. I can’t take more words, more pain.
“Scott,” I say his name. It sounds like a prayer. My hands link behind his neck, and I pull him to me.
I kiss him. As our lips meet, my mind goes silent, the pain leaves, and it’s only the two of us. My heartbeat races as my chest tightens. The desperation of losing him is sending tremors through my body, and I want to beg him not to go. I hate when he’s the voice of reason. Everything he says makes sense, but I hate myself for inflicting this pain on him.
There’s no time for me to talk as I try to absorb all of him in one kiss, to fuse him with me so if he goes, I still have him right by my side.
I kiss him as I’ve never kissed anyone before because today might be the last day I am allowed to do it. We strip each other in a tangle of arms, clothes, and mouths. We are two starved people who have been told that the end of the world is near and are living their last moment on earth. We abandon all our uncertainties.
“Hazel,” he says my name as he stops us. “We shouldn’t.”
Our eyes meet briefly, and I beg for the chance. “Please, stop time, just this once,” I implore.
Without a word, his mouth takes mine.
Without a thought, his hands caress my skin.
His touch awakens my body. His kisses bring me back to life from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.
I shiver and cry out, “Please, don’t stop.”
“Even if I wanted to”—he gasps for air as he talks—“I couldn’t. You own me. I’ll always give you anything you want.”
He picks me up off the floor, taking me back to my bedroom. His low voice, his touch, and the tenderness in his eyes make all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I need you, Scotty,” I beg him, breathless as the hairs on my arms raise.
Is this goodbye?
“Stop thinking and don’t be sad. Not right now.” His mouth nibbles on every inch of my skin as he makes his way down my body.
“I love these flowers.” He kisses my hip where I have a tattoo of snowflakes and blue orchids. It’s us—my favorite flower, his favorite season. “But I love you more than anything and everyone.”
