The Art of Losing(77)

“Hi,” I said as I came to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” he answered. He had a small smile on his face. He looked like he was trying to keep it from widening. That’s when I realized I didn’t smell smoke.

“You’re not smoking?” I asked.

He lifted his sleeve and showed me a nicotine patch. “Trying this out,” he said with practiced nonchalance. All I could think about was how much nicer it would be to kiss him now.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I sat down next to him. The stone wall was warm under my thighs, but the sun wasn’t completely up yet, so it wasn’t hot enough to burn me.

He shook his head. “Why would you be sorry?”

“I’m sorry I’ve kept you guessing. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t trust you,” I said. “But thank you for putting up with it so I could figure out what I want.”

“You’re worth it,” he said as he shifted sideways to face me.

I turned, too, meeting his dark eyes. Trying not to focus on his full lips.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you,” he said. “You’ve already been through so much with Mike. I don’t want to put you through that again.”

I reached out my hand and rested it on his. “You’re not Mike,” I said. “You’re sweet, thoughtful, polite, sexy, and about a thousand other things that he’s not. But more than any of that, you’re working on making yourself better. You actually beat yourself up about not working hard enough at being happy. And that’s why I love you. You make me want to be better, too.”

Raf blushed, deep enough that it was visible even under his tan skin. And before I could worry that I’d blurted out that I loved him, he said, “I love you, too, you know.”

My heart lifted in my chest and a smile stretched my lips. “You do?”

He nodded. “Like you said, I didn’t know what it was when I was four; I just knew I wanted to be around you all the time.” The blush spread to the tips of his ears. “I used to invent reasons to be around you. Remember when I told you it was International Hug-A-Friend Day and you had to hug me once an hour?”

“No!” I said, reaching out to smack him in the arm. “You little perv.”

He grinned sheepishly. “I’ll discuss it with my therapist.”

“Maybe I’ll talk about it with mine, too,” I said.

I laughed when Raf’s eyebrows shot up. “You have a shrink?” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah. I may not have all the insight you do yet, but she’s been helping.”

“I’m just so proud,” he said, his hands clasped against his heart. His smile turned mischievous. “What do you say about me in therapy?”

“Well . . .” I blinked a few times, caught off guard. “I said that I want to be with you, to help you. And my therapist said I shouldn’t try to change you or fix you. She said that I can love you without taking responsibility for your actions.”

“Mmm,” he said. Then he was quiet for a second. “Do you know the Serenity Prayer?”

“I sort of remember it,” I said, not sure where this was going.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference,” Raf recited. “I still have trouble with the ‘God’ part, but the rest makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I see that.”

“There are a lot of things we can’t change. Including what might happen in the future. But change can be a good thing. And I want to change for you. And for me.”

I nodded, but there was still an anxious knot in my stomach. “Do you think it’s a good idea to ignore what the program says about dating, though?” I asked.

He looked down, away from my face, and picked at his nails. “I can see how getting my heart broken would be bad, and tough to deal with. But I don’t think staying away from you, being miserable and alone, is good for my sobriety,” he said.

I reached for his hand and took it in mine. “I’m not criticizing you, Raf. I just don’t want you to be with me if it’s going to be bad for you . . .” I let my voice trail off because I didn’t really want him to agree with me.

“I know,” he murmured. “What both my therapist and Elaine have said is that I have to create a life that doesn’t include drinking or my old friends. That that’s the only way to stay sober. To build a network and a support system, and to create a life that’s better than the life I had when I was using. And I’m one hundred percent sure that life includes you.”

I could feel my face flush. “I’m glad,” I said. “I want to be a part of your life.”

We sat quietly, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.

“You know, aside from Dr. Manhattan, none of the Watchmen had superpowers,” I said. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He wore a curious smile. “They’re just regular people who decided to be superheroes.”

“And?”

“And it seems like an apt metaphor for sobriety. People find strength and confidence to do all kinds of extraordinary things every day. And getting sober takes remarkable strength. You don’t have to have superpowers. You just have to believe in yourself. And assemble your team.”