Yes. Yes, she could.
So Dani began. “I did fall in love once. During undergrad, I met a boy called Mateo. I’d never been in a relationship before him—I suppose I was a late bloomer. And a giant nerd.”
Zaf squeezed her hip. “You’re still a giant nerd.”
“This is true, but I was worse back then. Finding time to balance my giant nerdery with actual human interaction has never come naturally to me.”
His lips twitched. “Really?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I’m just saying, I hadn’t noticed.”
She flicked him in the chest.
He burst out laughing, and she bathed in the warmth of the sound. “Go on,” he managed eventually. “Tell me the rest.”
“Ah. Yes. Well. I realized I wasn’t as naturally emotive as other people. I knew I could be hyperfocused on my work, that I could be blunt and unsentimental. But I wanted to be a good girlfriend,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the memory. She’d been so young and so ridiculous, thinking she could fake certain qualities to make someone else happy. Thinking that she should. She’d never make that mistake again.
Won’t you?
She cleared her throat. “In the end, it didn’t matter. We were together for four years before I caught him fucking someone else. I mean, he was literally fucking someone else when I walked into the room. He didn’t know I was coming home. I was trying to surprise him. Because, you know. Romance.”
Zaf growled. As in, that noise predatory animals make right before they eat someone. His expression was just as ferocious, too. “What an arsehole.”
“Mmm,” Dani nodded. “That’s what I said. But then he told me that he’d been forced to begin an affair because I was so dull and inattentive and ice cold—that’s a direct quote, I suppose he was feeling poetic. Apparently, being with me left him lonely.”
The hand on her hip tightened for a moment before relaxing finger by finger, as if by force. Zaf’s jaw was hard as he gritted out, “What?”
“Mm-hmm.” Dani attempted a smile. It wasn’t her best. “The thing is, I’d been trying so hard—and I’d been so blissfully oblivious, certain I was getting it right—and the whole time, I was failing.”
“Failing?” Zaf didn’t just scowl. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen him, practically bristling with it. Since he was bare-chested and dangerously handsome, Dani rather enjoyed it, but she tried not to look too thrilled, because he was clearly serious.
Seriously pissed, that is.
“You didn’t fail, Danika,” he snapped. “You loved someone, and you tried to make them happy. The fact you were incompatible isn’t a failure on anyone’s part. Failure is lying and cheating and blaming it on anything but your own sleazy, spineless bullshit. You know that, right?”
“I—” She faltered, taken aback by the fire in his eyes. She’d been angry, too, of course she had. But maybe not quite this angry. Because, at the time, no—she hadn’t known that at all.
“I know it now,” she said finally.
“Good.” He held her tighter, pulled her closer, and looked even more murderous. “What a piece of shit. What did you say his last name was, again?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t.”
Zaf grunted.
“Anyway.” She swallowed. “After that, I refused to change myself for a relationship ever again. I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself by putting romance before my work, or bending over backward to make time for inane chats about how someone’s day was, or forcing myself to make grand gestures, or pretending to give a shit about anniversaries—”
Zaf raised his head to squint at her. “You don’t give a shit about anniversaries?”
She waved a hand. “Valentine’s Day exists for a reason. Marking the passage of time within your relationship as if it’s a prison sentence seems unnecessarily depressing.” She paused. “My point is, after I stopped compromising, every relationship I attempted went straight down the toilet. In the end, it seemed like a waste of everyone’s time and energy to keep trying. So I stopped.” And now she’d hopped back into the saddle by developing an attachment to the sweetest man on earth, who deserved the best relationship in the world and was smart enough to know it. Nice training wheels, Danika. Suddenly, her throat felt tight, her heart pounding against her ribs.
“Hey,” Zaf said, squeezing her arm. “Listen. Not only was that guy a piece of shit, he had maggots for brains if he couldn’t see that you’re perfect. But I see it. And you do know how to make someone happy, Dan. Remember when I told you relationships shouldn’t feel like a drain? That, when it was worth it, and it was right, you’d want to compromise?”
“I—yes?”
“Well, maybe that’s where we’re at. Because all those things you think you can’t do, Danika, you already do them for me.” He paused. “Except for the anniversary thing. We’ll talk about that later.”
She wanted to laugh—she was supposed to laugh. Or to smile and say, Oh, gosh, you’re right! and realize perfection had crept up on her. Except it hadn’t. It couldn’t. That wasn’t how life worked. Instead, discomfort crept up her throat, warm and prickling, as if she was up to her neck in hot water.
“No,” she said slowly. “These things don’t change overnight. I—I’m still bad at relationships.” Of course she was. She had to be. She’d only just decided yesterday that they were going to do this thing, and talking about Mateo reminded her that she was 100 percent fuzzy on the details of how.
How the hell was she going to give the man she cared about so deeply the kind of relationship he wanted? Her lungs felt five sizes too small. She sat upright, just to get a little more air.
“Danika,” Zaf said softly, sitting up beside her. His hand on her shoulder felt heavier than usual. “You’re not bad at relationships. You’re lovely.
