Page 58 of See My Words

“I do trust him. It’s just—he can’t trust me to be responsible for his happiness, Minh.”

Minh gaped at him for a moment before smacking his arm. “What horseshit!”

Scott sputtered. “It’s not horseshit! How do you figure?”

“Because the only one responsible for Rylan’s happiness is Rylan. He would never expect you to ‘make’ him happy,” Minh said, complete with mocking air quotes. “His happiness will come from many things in life, and he just wants you to be a part of it.”

“Right. Until I fuck up and he—and he leaves.”

Minh rubbed the spot on Scott’s arm he’d just socked. “You know what? The best thing about Rylan being in love with you is that he already understands who you are and where you come from. The only thing you have to do is keep on being yourself, because that’s who he loves.” He tossed his head. “Is there room for improvement? Of course! Bitches always need to be workin’ on themselves. But you get to do that secure in his love. To me, that’s motherfuckin’ freeing, not confining or scary.”

“I’m so afraid to let myself need him, Minh, because he will never need me quite as much.”

Minh’s eyes were soft with understanding. “Isn’t there an old saying, that in every relationship there’s one who needs more? It’s a thing, sweetheart.”

“He’d be okay without me. I don’t think I’d be okay if—if I had him and then lost him.”

“So it’s better not to have him at all?”

Scott shrugged, and Minh leaned in to kiss his cheek. “We both know how bad life can get. Don’t be afraid to let it be good, too. Awesome, even. You deserve to be happy as much as anyone else, my darling.”

He made to get up, and Scott took his arm, pulling him back down. “What about you? What’s going on with Chris?”

It was Minh’s turn to shrug. “That man knows how to turn me out with his cock and pretty words, but it’s just sex. I’ll be tired of him by tomorrow. Tuesday at the latest.”

Just then, Chris emerged from the gallery, spied them, and started walking their way. As he drew nearer, a sensual smile quirked his lips, his mirrored sunglasses giving him a dangerous, sexy air that went along with his tall, lean body and craggy face.

“Oh my,” Minh breathed, his fingers digging into Scott’s arm. “Maybe Friday. Yes, Friday. Then I’ll be done with him.”

Chris stopped in front of them and reached out to run the backs of his fingers over Minh’s smooth cheek. “So what’s on your agenda today, beautiful? I’m all yours.”

Scott watched in amusement as Minh’s face softened and he grew starry-eyed, standing to take Chris’s arm and plaster himself to his side. “No agenda. Except to spend every waking moment with you.”

His look was adoring, and Scott was hard-pressed not to blatantly roll his eyes. As they wandered off arm in arm, Scott couldn’t resist a chuckle, which turned into an outright laugh when Minh lifted his hand briefly from Chris’s back pocket to flip him the bird without even looking back.

Rylan was nowhere in sight, so Scott pushed off the fountain and ambled down the quaint street, glancing idly into the different shops as he passed them. A sculpture in the window of one caught his eye, and he stopped to give it a closer look, noticing a smaller one sort of tucked in the corner of the display case.

He bent down to see it better, mesmerized by the twisted shape. It appeared to be a tree, but its branches were twined together in a haphazard way, not ending at a point but folding back in on themselves in a pattern impossible to follow. It looked messy but was somehow strangely beautiful and hypnotic.

“You like it?”

Scott jumped in fright and straightened, and the speaker laughed, putting his hand on Scott’s arm to steady him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Scott gave a self-conscious chuckle. “I was completely lost in thought, trying to figure out what that was.” He gestured at the sculpture. “Is that some kind of—tree?”

“In a way.” The man put his hand out. “I’m Pedro Jimenez.”

“Scott Ashworth.” They shook, and Scott said, “So you made that?”

“Yep.” Pedro appeared to be in his early sixties, his swarthy skin wrinkled, long dark hair in a neat queue and hanging halfway down his back. “It’s my favorite piece.”

“It’s really interesting and pretty,” Scott said sincerely. “I like it.”

“It’s supposed to represent all the choices we make in life, how they intertwine and lead us in directions we sometimes never thought we’d go. My own life, for example. I was diagnosed with cancer last year, and it made me really sit back and take stock of everything.”

Scott didn’t know what to say, so he settled for a quiet “I’m sorry.”

Pedro smiled. “There are always regrets, of course, but really, our choices are what make up the pattern of our lives. Mine is an interesting pattern, and so I’m an interesting person.” He laughed. “That’s how I like to look at it, anyway. Maybe my pattern looks ugly to you, but to someone else, it’s beautiful. Like the sculpture.”