Tiago purses his lips and lays a hand over mine. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not trying to downplay anything. I know it’s a serious mental condition. I’m just trying to tell you that I—’ He stops himself. ‘You’re not it, and it’s not you.’
‘It doesn’t feel that way,’ I murmur. ‘Living with OCD is like sitting on a paddleboard in a rocky sea. You do everything youcan to stay upright because if you fall in, it can take years to climb out.
‘My first episode was after my mum died. I thought her monitors were going to electrocute the house. The thoughts were in my voice so I didn’t recognise it as foreign for months. OCD preys on something you’re already worried about so it feels like a natural extension. I checked sockets; I counted matches; I “sealed off” rooms after I checked them. My dad didn’t have a clue what to do, so he just stayed at work more.’
Tiago looks like I’ve wounded him.
‘My second episode was after Damian dumped me,’ I go on. ‘I became fixated on my looks, constantly scanning my reflection; analysing pictures; obsessing over symmetry.’
‘That fucking bastard. Does he know?’
‘Of course not.’ I fiddle with the ends of my hair. ‘It leaks into your whole life, and once you’ve managed to get it under control, you’ll do anything to avoid another episode. I squeezed my life into manageable boxes. I don’t like variables or surprises. I’m suspicious of anything new or chaotic. I don’t drink, I don’t like being driven, I don’t like flying. I like my lane where I can control everything.’
Thoughts pass across his face quicker than I can read them. ‘I surprise you.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m new and chaotic.’
‘I know.’
He tilts his head so he’s looking up from beneath his stupidly beautiful lashes. ‘Juliet Butler, what are you trying to say?’
I want to tell him that I trust him like no one else. That he makes me brave. That nobody makes me laugh like he does. That the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m a prize. That I want to be part of his family so much it hurts. That I’ve never leta man in like I’ve let him in. That I know deep in my soul that he’d never do what Damian and Logan did.
I want to tell him I love him.
But I can’t.
I’m career suicide. We’ve spent so long building his reputation, I’m not about to blow it to oblivion because of my selfishness.
And who’s to say he even wants me back? I know he fancies me, he’s sexually attracted to me, and he cares about me, but love? A relationship? A future? Let’s be real. I’m a vacuous cancelled influencer who’s probably going to be broke this time next year. Women fall over him; it’s a pipe dream that we could be anything more. That any man could love me for me.
‘That you’re persistent,’ I reply.
He was clearly expecting something more sincere but doesn’t voice it. I feel a stab of guilt, though not enough to follow it up.
‘I think you should confront Damian,’ he says.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘He’s out there shaking his blonde mane around the court withno fucking clueof the damage he’s done. You can’t let him get away with that.’
‘He wouldn’t care.’
His brow’s a hard line. ‘Anyone would care.’
‘I don’t want to confront him. For me.’
‘That’s different,’ he concedes as his thumb runs across the back of my hand. ‘But I think he’s leaked into your whole life just as much as OCD. Don’t you want… I don’t know, closure? The opportunity to face that?’
I shake my head resolutely. I can’t look Damian in the eye. There’s a chance I could go back to my old simpering self, and I don’t want to find out. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘C’mon, Jules, you’re strong as shit.’
Did he see me on the kitchen floor? ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Fine. Tell me what you’d say to him.’
