I dress quickly, stopping to rub my aching head. I slip into the bathroom, grab some ibuprofen, and gulp it down with a handful of water from the sink.
I catch my reflection in the mirror. I’m unrecognizable. Tense. Fearful.
Worse, the damn heart is still there. I should’ve scrubbed it off, but didn’t.
Sighing, I lean forward, my hands on the counter, studying myself. There’s something else beneath all of that. Something I don’t want to name, but it seems too obvious.
It’s not resignation.
It’s denial.
Because a part of me wants her here. And I don’t know what that means.
I run my hands through my hair, then exit before I’m late.
I manage to reach the garage door before Drew’s voice cuts through me like a knife.
“Denial doesn’t help,” Drew says sharply. “She’s watching you. She’s controlling things. She’s inserting herself into your life like she belongs there.”
She does belong here.My shoulders tense at the thought.
“Sebastian. Are you listening?”
I slowly turn to him.
“She’s not violent.” My voice is low. Calm. “She’s not erratic. She’s not trying to hurt anyone.”
“That you know of,” he says.
I shrug. “There’s never been an issue I’m aware of.”
He exhales, clearly fighting the urge to raise his voice. “You can’t justletsomeone do this. You don’t leave doors unlocked. You don’t reward this behavior. You don’t?—”
“Stop,” I say.
He freezes.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You’re staying inmyhouse. You don’t get to dictate how I live in it.”
“I’m worried about you,” he insists. “This is unhealthy. You don’t do relationships. You don’t let people this close.”
I look past him, toward the patio door. “I know,” I say.
“But you let her,” he mutters.
My pulse violently flutters beneath my skin. “You’re projecting,” I tell him. “You’re in the process of getting a divorce. Everything feels threatening right now.”
“She scares me,” he says quietly.
That gives me pause.
Not enough to stop me—but enough to register.
“She shouldn’t,” I reply. “She’s harmless. Annoyingly perceptive. Overly competent. Mildly invasive. But harmless.”
He stares at me. “You don’t actually believe that.”
I do.
