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“That.” She spat the word, and I wondered who had told her about the scans. It hadn’t been Alistair. But Alistair knew, which meant he had told Vicki, who had likely told Josie. My bet was that Josie had told Juliet.
I wasn’t mad about it. Actually, it was a relief to be able to talk about it with Juliet. “I had headaches,” I said. “With my health history, headaches aren’t something I can ignore. I went to see my doctor when I was in Portland, and he sent me for some tests. The tests were inconclusive?—”
“Inconclusive?” Juliet interrupted, in full spin. “How can they be inconclusive? They look at your brain, and either something is wrong or it isn’t. Isn’t that how it works?”
“It’s supposed to work like that, yes,” I said. “But it didn’t. They saw something, but they couldn’t say conclusively what it was. They sent me to Seattle to another specialist, and I had more tests.”
“And you didn’t think you should tell me?”
I stepped toward her and put my hands on her upper arms, tracing lightly over the skin. “Hey. It’s all right.”
She grabbed my arms, and I thought she would slap me away, but instead she held on, her fingers hooking into my sleeves and digging into my skin. “You told me it was simple,” she said. “You said it wasn’t cancer.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then why are you getting tests? Why is it happening again? Mom says you almost died. You didn’t tell me that!”
This was why I hadn’t told her—because it would upset her, just like it was now. I wanted to calm her, but I didn’t want to dodge the truth or lie. I never wanted to lie to Juliet. “It was scary,” I admitted.
“Finn, you were sick. Life-and-death sick. And you had physiotherapy? And balance problems? You don’t have balance problems! Or do you? What aren’t you telling me?”
I stepped even closer, into her space. I drifted my fingertips over her cheeks and under her eyes, where tears were spilling. “Juliet, I’m right here,” I said softly. “I recovered. I’m just fine.”
She blinked, and more hot tears spilled over my fingers. “If you had died, we wouldn’t have met again, and none of this would have happened. I would have missed all of this because you’d be gone. And now it’s happened—and you could still go. You could leave me.”
Her voice almost broke when she said those words. This was her father again, walking in and out of her life like she didn’t matter. Leaving her over and over.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told her. “I’m not leaving you. Not ever. The tests I did this week show that I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong. Nothing at all.” When she heaved a breath, I added, “I had balance problems for months after the surgery. It’s a common side effect. Physiotherapy and regular activity helped. So did time. I probably can’t do any hard yoga poses, but otherwise, I’m a lot better than I was.” I looked at her face, which was so beautiful and so stricken. “Juliet,” I said softly, unable to say anything other than her name.
She sniffed. Her grip tightened on my arms, and when she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “I don’t want to feel like this,” she said. “I don’t want it.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “But it’s incredible. I feel more alive than I ever have. Every time I’m with you, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Her eyes closed, the tears still leaking from under her lashes. “You can’t matter to me like this,” she said, almost to herself. “It won’t work.”
“It will work if we make it work.” As I said the words, I knew it like I knew my own name. What had seemed impossible before was suddenly the simplest, most possible thing there was. I brushed her damp hair away from her face. “We can do this, Juliet. We can make each other happy. You and me.” I paused, then took the plunge. “I love you.”
She only shook her head again, then opened her eyes. “No,” she said. “No. I’m going on tour.”
I was so close, so fucking close, and there was no way I was letting go now. “So my girlfriend is going on tour,” I said. “And then she’ll probably go on another one. And she’ll make a record. Girlfriends do it all the time.” When she parted her lips to argue again, I said, “You should be ready, though, because your boyfriend is going to L.A. to talk to his new agent.”
Excitement flared in her expression, and then it drained away, replaced by worry. The worry was her brain taking over, but the excitement—that was how she really felt. “That just proves my point,” she argued. “You’re going to put those songs out, and they’re going to take off, because they’re incredible. Because you’re incredible.” She raised her gaze to mine. “It’s just going to get more complicated, Finn.”
“Definitely more complicated. So I guess we’ll figure it out.” I leaned down and brushed my lips over hers, a gentle touch. “I want what you want,” I said. “So what do you want, Juliet?”
I watched her wrestle with it, with her desire for me, for everything we could be. I watched her push that desire down, and I wondered why a woman so vibrantly original and alive would think that what she wanted didn’t matter. That she didn’t deserve it. That she wasn’t good enough.
“Finn,” she said, sounding tired and broken. “I can’t.”
There was a heavy weight in my chest, sinking down, pressing against my ribcage. I leaned forward and touched my forehead to hers, resting there in that moment, breathing her in. My dream girl.
Two years ago, I had almost died. That story was true. So was the story about getting headaches and wondering if I might die all over again. It was a hard thought to face.
But the truth was that any of us could be gone, any minute of any day. That was how life worked. Going through hell had taught me that much. And still, I’d lived in an empty shell until Juliet.
I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I was done being half dead, as if my life had already happened. I was going to live my life instead.
I just didn’t know if she would live that life with me, or whether I’d do it alone.
