Page 175 of My Unfinished Heart

“Light-hearted, nerdy, ostentatiously wealthy.”

“I’m wealthy,” I say.

“You’re not ostentatious, though.”

“Why would you want a guy like that? Why would Connor think you would?”

“Because he knows I can’t handle getting my heart broken again,” he says shortly.

“But he sent you here,” I remind him.

He shifts his weight uncomfortably and won’t look at me. “You’re different,” he finally says.

“Different?”

“Than before. You’ve changed. You’re like a different person.”

“How?” I ask.

“You want me to describe it? Paint you a picture? I’m no artist.”

“Just tell me. My English is pretty good.”

He rounds on me, his eyes narrow and blazing. “Okay. Then let me tell you about that day I saw you at Connor’s rehab.”

I stand still and look at him, ready to hear whatever he has to say. I know where my heart was that day, and I don’t have a thing in the world to be ashamed of.

“I saw you flirting with that nurse. I saw the way you brushed the leaves off her sleeve. Touching her like it was no big deal—talking about how fun it was to break the rules with her. You were smiling. You were fucking beautiful. Of all the time I’ve spent missing you in my life, it never hurt the way it did that day. That day it hurt so bad, I wanted to claw my eyes out.”

“First of all—you totally misunderstood what she was talking about⁠—”

He turns abruptly away. “God, Archer. It doesn’t matter. What you did or didn’t do with that nurse doesn’t make any fucking difference. What happened that day was I realized you could have anyone you wanted, and the only person I’d ever want was you.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.”

“It is. Don’t you get it?”

“No.”

He faces me again, his expression flat. “I can’t get over you.”

“Welcome to my world. You think I painted that on a whim?” I gesture to the portrait. “Jesus Christ, Tristan, you’re the only person I think about. The only one I’ve ever wanted to share my life with.”

He shakes his head in frustration like I still don’t understand. “My point is—that day, you were all self-actualized and shit, and I hadn’t had a thing to do with it.”

“Oh no?” I ask, begging to differ.

“I used to delude myself into thinking you needed me, but the truth was—you needed a family. And Connor was the only one who could give you that. I got in the way, and I wanted you too much, and I dragged both of you down. I made all of us miserable, and then you did the thing you had to do which was get rid of me. And voilà. By the time I saw you at the rehab, you were confident and happy because you were finally free.”

“Hold on—stop talking for a second. I’m not gonna let you go down this road again. It’s the wrong road. The fact that I was in a good mood that day didn’t make me self-actualized. But I can tell you what did—seeing the look on your face. That was when I woke up.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, his expression clouding with confusion.

“That was when I realized for the first time that you and I aren’t supposed to be apart. We weren’t meant to go through this life without each other. So, I can’t let you go. Not this time, Tristan. I do need you, and you need me, too.”

“But what’s changed? Because I told you that months ago. You didn’t give a shit then.”

“Of course I did. I thought I was destroying your life.”