Page 92 of My Unfinished Heart

“Can you tell me what to do?” I ask.

“I can. You sure you want me to?”

The way she asks—she doesn’t have to say it. I already know.

“I need to break up with Jayne,” I say, burdened with the truth of it.

“It's been needing to happen for a while now.”

“What if Tristan doesn’t⁠—”

Her hand hits the table so hard I flinch at the sound. “No, Archer. You're not breaking up with Jayne to be with this Tristan person. You're breaking up with Jayne because you can’t make each other happy. We've only got so much time here. She’s young, and she's beautiful, and she's got plenty of options. And you're young and handsome and kind and successful. You’ve got options, too. This Tristan’s only one of them.” She stands and walks away from the table shaking her head back and forth, muttering, “If you show up here next weekend with some random man, you will see a whole new side of me. I need to check the chicken. You boys. Jesus Christ.”

When I get home from Helen’s, I find Jayne sitting at my kitchen table, fresh from a shower with wet hair and no makeup. Her eyes are swollen, and her nose is red from crying. Her chin has acne all over it, which is proof she’s stressed or about to start her period. Either way, the situation is tenuous at best.

“Where have you been? I've been worried about you,” she says.

“I can take care of myself.” I pick up the mail from the counter and start sifting through it, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Jayne never really asked if she could move in with me. It was one of those things that kind of evolved. Right after Connor moved out, Jayne started spending the night, and then she started spending nearly every night until all of a sudden her lease was up, and I told her there was no rush to find a new place. She’s always been easy-going, independent, and very understanding of my need for space and alone time. The surprise party was a bigger surprise mainly because she never did stuff like that to me.

It was her way of exerting subtle pressure, I think. She wants more from me than I’ll ever be able to give her. She’s never really asked for much, but I get the sense she’s doubling down on the years we’ve spent together, hoping I’ll finally realize I want more, too.

And I do want more. I just don’t want it with her. I never have.

This is gonna suck.

Jayne sets her coffee mug down on the kitchen table, and it makes a sound like glass shattering. She runs her hands over her wet hair, pulling it into a tight ponytail. She strokes the nape of her neck for a few seconds before she says, “Talk to me. Just talk to me, Archer. You know you can trust me, don't you?”

Trust.

I wish she hadn’t gone there.

I cross my arms over my chest and lean back on the kitchen counter. “All right, I have a question for you.”

For a second, a wash of relief relaxes the tension in her face, because if all I have is a question, then she’ll have an answer. She always does. It’s why she looks hopeful.

“Is there some reason you never thought to tell me my brother has a roommate?”

Her eyes drop away from mine, and she starts to twist the ring on her thumb around and around. Like Helen’s temple tap and Connor’s sleeves, this is Jayne’s tell. “What do you mean?”

“All this time, I thought my brother was living alone in a house somewhere going quietly crazy, and it turns out he's had a roommate for quite some time. Why didn't you ever tell me that?”

“I just thought you knew,” she says, her face scarlet.

“So, when you say I should trust you, what do you mean by that exactly?”

She goes from wide-eyed innocence to spiteful in the space of a second. “When you carry a picture around in your wallet of his best friend for years and years, what is that supposed to mean…exactly?”

I hold her angry gaze, not saying a word.

“Are you gay, Archer?”

I shake my head. This is unbelievable.

“Let me ask a different way. Who’s Liam?”

My brows lift. She’s either done her research, or someone from the bar said something. “Who do you think?”

“Someone you’re sleeping with? In your studio, I’m guessing?”