“And you cared what he thought about you,” she adds quietly.
My face heats. “…yes.”
“Okay,” she says. “So that’s one data point that doesn’t involve his anatomy.”
I grimace at the ceiling. “Fine.”
“Second question,” Thalara continues. “Right now, what scares you more—losing your project, or hurting him and his family?”
I start to say obviously my project, but the words get stuck in my throat.
Because the thing is…I don’t have a great track record with relationships. It’s why I’ve never dated someone with a kid. Why Irarelydate at all. My work has always taken first priority, even when I really liked someone.
And I’ve never liked someone this much.
Not like I like him. Not like I’veliked himfor what I’m realizing has been a very, very long time.
“Lyn?” Thalara says quietly.
I close my eyes. “Right now? The idea of walking into his apartment, meeting his kid, and then messing everything up scares me more than tanking my project, okay? Happy?”
Thalara hums sympathetically. “It never makes me happy when you’re on the edge of breaking your own heart, my friend.”
Something in me wobbles at that. She sounds…sad. Not disappointed, not exasperated. Just sad that this is where my brain goes.
“I’m not trying to,” I say. “My heart is just extremely breakable and has a long history of flinging itself at brick walls.”
“Yes,” she agrees softly. “But you are allowed to stop, you know.”
I stare at the ceiling. “Stop what?”
“Treating yourself like you’re dangerous to care about,” she says. “As if you’re the risk in this situation instead of one person among several who are all making choices.”
My throat tightens. “Iama risk, though. I mess things up. I get obsessed, I overwork, I forget to—” I flap a hand at the bed, the piles of clothes, the general chaos. “Live a normal life. And then someone decides they don’t want to deal with the maintenance anymore.”
There’s a rustle on the other end of the line, like she’s shifting in her chair.
“You are a little intense,” she says gently. “But that isn’t the same as unsafe. You’re not a bomb, Lyn. You’re a person. People are allowed to be a lot.”
I swallow. “It hasn’t felt like that in the past.”
“I know.” Her voice is very soft now. “Some people couldn’t hold you and their own fear at the same time. That doesn’t mean no one can.”
I press my wrist over my eyes until stars burst behind them. “Are you saying he can?”
“Maybe,” she says. “And if you have a plan to make sure your project is okay then…why not let it play out? See what happens?”
“Last time I did that I ended up writhing on a laboratory floor.”
“And I’m sure you’ll do it again,” she says with a short laugh. “So…what are you wearing?”
I stare at the bed. “Three bad choices.”
“Describe them to me,” she says.
I narrow my eyes. “Okay. Option one: button-up and slacks.Veryprofessional. Very interview. Very ‘this isn’t a thing, it’s just business.’”
“So not that.”
