The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

Taking Nick’s hand, I rise to my feet, and he shows his first sign of emotion—a small smile ghosting upon his lips. Pulling me into his arms, his hands trail down my sides, resting on my lower back. My hands move up his chest, over his shoulders, and circle around his neck.

The music plays in the background, the guy telling the woman he will make her his world, and after a minute or so, I allow myself to relax—my head comes down and rests against Nick’s chest. Our bodies sway to the music in silence, until about halfway through the song when Nick murmurs, “I can love you like that.” I know it’s the lyrics to the song, but he doesn’t appear to be singing them, but instead telling me. I don’t know what to say, so I nod into his chest. As the music continues to play, Nick’s hands tighten around me, and he pulls me in closer to him, his lips brushing against my ear as he softly sings the lyrics to me. Each word shattering a piece of the wall I’ve been trying to build in order to keep my heart safe from this man.

The song ends and another begins. It’s Imagine Dragon’s “Thunder.” Nick laughs as he reaches into his pocket and stops the song. “It must’ve switched to my pre-game music.” He shrugs. “Thank you for the dance.”

“What does this mean, Nick?” We’re still standing in each other’s arms, neither of us making the first move to separate.

“Your dad said that according to you, people don’t make the decision to love; it just happens. But I don’t agree, Liv. I believe love is a decision. Who we love, how we love. It’s in our hands. I grew up having no clue about the true meaning of love. When I was little, I thought it meant bicycles and PlayStations. And when I got older, I thought it meant cars and houses. To my mom, it means vacations and jewelry and status. To my dad, it means power and money. I grew up with everything a kid could ask for, yet nothing a kid really needs. It wasn’t until you gave me Reed that I learned love can be more…so much more.”

“What does that mean?” I rasp.

“I can’t explain it.” Nick shakes his head. “It’s”—he backs up slightly, loosening our connection—“in here.” He points to his chest. “It’s not any of those things I mentioned. It’s so much more powerful. When Reed cried from those shots at his check-up, my heart…fuck, it felt like my heart was going to explode. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My parents choose to love the way they do, and I’m choosing to love my way, with my heart. And if you could give me a chance, I would love to love you the same way.”

His words are so unexpected, and they frighten me because they hit all the right places. But what if this is just a phase? What if he thinks because he loves his son with everything in him that means he can love me the same way? What if he can’t? A parent’s love isn’t the same.

Two minutes ago, I was willing to take the leap, but now listening to how strongly he feels, I’m scared. If it doesn’t work, Nick just might leave me broken beyond repair. And who will be there to pick up my pieces?

“Did you love Celeste?”

Nick sighs, and taking my hand, guides us to sit. “Celeste and I have been friends since we were little. Her mom and mine are best friends who grew up next door to each other in a trailer park. Both of them dreamed of getting out, but unlike my mom who married a rich guy and created a whole new life for herself, Celeste’s mom fell in love with a guy from a motorcycle club who left, promising to return, and never did. Celeste grew up poor. Her mom loved that guy, and even though she had several opportunities to be with wealthier men over the years, to provide Celeste with a better life, she chose to stay single and struggle. To this day she’s never left that trailer park. She’s still waiting for Celeste’s dad to return. She literally chose love over money, and because of that, Celeste resents her mom for everything she didn’t have growing up.”

Nick takes my hand in his and massages circles into my palm with his thumb and fingers while he continues to speak. “When I was in college, we made a pact. If I didn’t find love by thirty, I would marry her and give her way a chance.”

“Which was?”

“A business arrangement. No love or emotions.” I’m shocked at what he’s telling me. You see stuff like that in books or movies but never in real life. And at thirty?