Don’t Beg for the I Love You: Book Excerpt

Most of the time she can’t remember how she meets people. It just happens and they become a part of her life. She never dwelled on that initial interaction because ultimately it never mattered. It only mattered how they made her feel at the time. But this one was different. She remembered exactly what she thought when she met him and whatever it was that made her remember him so vividly, also made it extremely difficult to forget him.

Here he was no longer a part of her, but still very much so present.


She’d washed her sheets hundreds of times but if she rolled around in them with her eyes tightly shut she could still smell him as if he’d just left for the day. She’d remember how big bodied he was and how he always used to sweat in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’d wake up, her entire back drenched in sweat because he insisted on holding her through the night.

Most would think that shit is absolutely gross and tell him to roll his sweaty ass over, but not her. She loved that he always wanted to be close to her, no matter what. And that’s what she desired more than anything, for someone to want to be close to her more than anything. So she’d lay in his pool of sweat that might as well been her own tears of joy and she was never repulsed by it, not one night together did she regret.

He never knew it, but she’d test his affection while they were sleeping. She would roll to the far end of the bed to see if he’d reach for her to bring her in close. And to her surprise, it never mattered how long he’d been sleep, how tired he was or how far she’d rolled, he would ALWAYS reach over and take his big burly arms and scoop her up under his chest.

She loved those damn arms. She could kiss every inch of them a thousand times over and never get tired of the sight or the sensation. And when he would pull her close back into him, her head to his chest, his heart beat would sing a song. A strong sweet rhythm that lulled her back to sleep and told her never to leave him. It sang loudly and proudly of how much he cared about her and how good it always felt for her to be with him. His heart said words his mouth probably never would.

One time, she’d rolled so far out of the bed, she’d made her way out to his couch. This was her ultimate test. She wanted to know that even if she was out of range, out of sight, somewhere else, would he still sense her absence and come look for her and bring her back close? That night on the couch she tossed and turned in her stupid juvenile decision to stray away from him. Why didn’t she just stay close and trust that it would always be that way?

But no, she had to know that no matter what, he’d work to bring them back together. Even if he was in his deepest REM cycle. She cussed herself, now look what she’d done. If it was all a fantasy and never ever real, she’d bursted her own bubble. And now look at her; cold, alone, wrapped up in a thin blanket on decorative pillows resting her tear moistened face where many asses carelessly plopped down.

She tried to lose herself in her own thoughts and melt away in the cool shades of gray in his couch but nothing was as comforting as the bulge of his arm supporting the back of her head, the warmth of his sensitivity wrapped around her like a blanket and the song his heart sung night after night. She didn’t know it at the time, but she’d became a fiend for his consolation.

He’d moved into a place in her heart that she didn’t think anyone could live any more. She thought that place was destroyed, too damaged for further occupancy. This man hadn’t just showed up at the door with his bags though, he’d subtly brought pieces of luggage garnished with gifts of love, appreciation, and admiration. She never saw the carryon bags hidden behind the bouquets of flowers. Or the toothbrush and men’s shower gel he snuck in after each 4 hour long conversation. He’d rented out her heart without so much as any decency to say how long his stay would be.

And suddenly she was jostled out of her own head. She heard him in the back room reaching for her, searching for her. She quickly wiped the streams from her face, closed her eyes, and steadied her breathing as if she’d been asleep the whole time. He shuffled out of the room, sleep still heavy in his eyes, confused as to why she was on his couch.

Without much real conversation he picked her up and cradled her like a baby and carried her back to the bed.

She pretended to still have been heavily asleep, even when she felt him shovel her off the couch and carry her like a new bride over the threshold back to where he wanted her. Warm, secure and right by his heart. Everything in her squealed with joy; no matter what he’d always find her and bring her back close to him.


She stared at him from across the room, her soul watched in digust as he took countless selfies with irrelevant girl  #4. She wanted to stop watching, but it was like a moth to a flame, and she’d watch the train wreck over and over and over again… until she had one of her own…

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