We are back in the house and I feel great being back home again. Trevor has been in touch with his feelings like I have never seen him do before. Right now he leads me to the bedroom holding my hands and we sit on the bed, holding me to his chest.
"I was so scared when you left." He admits that in the silent dark room. He holds me close to him tighter and I realize that this was hard on him.
Every minute that passes makes me feel like a villain or better yet, like the worst girlfriend I the whole world.
"I am sorry I didn't realize that it was hard on you like that," I whisper back.
He is silent for a minute then exhales. "Every woman I have ever loved has left me. When you did, I thought I would never see you or hear from you again."
That makes me twist and look at him, still in his arms. I let him talk and I listen.
"I didn't grow up with the best of father. Not how I hear you talk about your father at all. I was never enough before my father's eyes.
My mother got married when she had me so really my step father, Kincaid is not my biological father. But because he loved my mother he accepted me and raised me. That didn't make it easy for me. I had a brother."
"A brother?" I ask and I look at him as he talks to me. Looking at the ceiling."
"Yes. Kincaid had another wife before my mother. But she died leaving a son. So he is my step brother. Like any other siblings, we were always competing with each other and that was all well, until it wasn't as fun anymore.
When my mother died, leaving me, I have always had the fear that every woman I ever love will always leave me. I haven't been wrong. You left me."
"but I came back," I tell him as I lie on his chest, my hand rubbing circles on his chest."
"Promise me you will never leave me," it comes out as a whisper and I realize this means a lot more than just any other promise we have made before
"I promise I will never leave you," I tell him without any hesitation. "Tell me more about your family," I say and he sighs.
"Well there is Kincaid, me and my older brother. My mother died when I was ten years old." From his tone, this wound has never healed and I totally understand. I want to take his pain away that I hear every time he talks about his mother.
"What was her name?"
"Rosaline. She was the best," there is a smile in his voice as he talks fondly about his mother. "She used to take me to the ice cream shop whenever I had a bad day at school to make me feel better. She was the one person in this world who really saw me. But my father was not so thrilled about my close relationship with her. He was jealous."
"But she was your mother," I say, very much disliking his father now.
"Yes. But he used to say that she was coddling me up so much."
"Tell me more, were you the happy outgoing kid? Always in trouble?" I ask smiling trying to lighten the mood.
"God no," he chuckles. "I was the quiet kid with braces. I had even eyeglasses and I was really small. Actually the smallest in my grade. My mother always said it's because I didn't eat my vegetables to blackmail me to eating them."
We laugh quietly. "She was so wise. I wish I can thank her now, because all those vegetables seem to have paid off a great deal," I say and he laughs as he kisses the top of my head.
"I wish you would have met her too. She would have loved you."
That melts my heart. "Where did you grow up?" I continue with our conversation.
"Long island. But my father owned a lot of property and homes so we used to move around each of them during the holidays. I loved long island the best."
He was born into old money. The Kincaid foundation is one of the oldest and wealthiest company.
"You had friends in long island?" I ask because he grew there.
"No. I was a loner. I was bullied even. Those motherfuckers fear me now."
"So what made you be this fearful, billionaire that no one fucks with?" I ask with a smile.
"Well, it's not as happy as you think. I was always trying to prove to my old man that I was more than the weak kid he used to throw stuff at when I couldn't do something. He used to say I didn't have the balls to do anything and I needed to prove to the old geezer that I was more than that. I wanted him to see me."
He is tense when he talks about his father. "He abused you?"
"Well yes. Verbally and emotionally. He made me not want to have kids because I might do the same thing he used to do to me. The silent treatments and the disapproval of everything. My brother didn't have to try so hard as me so that did things to my brain I am still yet to deal with," he replies.
"You are not your father and if you ever happened to have a kid, I am sure you would love the fuck out of them," I say and he doesn't say anything. He exhales slowly.
"So you have a strained relationship with bot you father and brother," I change the topic and he says yes.
I try to bring him back to his happy memories. "Tell me about your happiest memory."
That seems to make his body uncoil and I know the conversation we were having might have been triggers to him, to the small boy still inside him.
We never lose our parts. The small ten year old me is still me and I know that, I see it now too in Trevor and for some reasons, that makes me glad that he is showing ; allowing me to get a glimpse.
"My happiest memory is when one afternoon after another rough day at school, I got home and the minute my mother saw me; she knew." he laughs lightly. "She used to read my rooms across the room. I wonder how she did that. So when she asked if she can make my day better, I immediately said yes. She took me to get my favourite ice cream and then took me to the park. We sat on the swings, just eating ice cream. I remember she told me that not every day is a good day but we get to choose and decide how it affects us the rest of the day and how if whether we want to change it."
"She was a cleaver woman," I am amazed and in awe. I wish I met her. I see her in Trevor as he continues talking about her.
"She was."
The silence encompasses us, my thoughts in what he just shared and I am sure Trevor is reliving the happy memories of his mother.