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“Then I guess you have to ask yourself if the fun you want to have is worth losing the woman you’ve spent the last five years in love with.”
God, that’s not what this is. It’s not a choice I can make. “I can’t be someone I’m not.”
“You aren’t what you do,” Nic counters, probably thinking he’s winning.
“Exactly! And Mina said the same, but that’s all she sees me as. I’m some reckless guy, impulsively going through life without a thought or a care in the world.” I retired for her, can’t she see that? The doctors and my parents might have been able to dissuade me for a while, but the only thing keeping me from trying to sneak back into my career is Mina.
“Mina didn’t want to talk about it, so I can’t speak for her, but you’re wrong.”
I make a dismissive sound. “I’m not worth the risk. That’s what this is.”
“She took a chance on you, and you betrayed her trust for a game of The Floor is Lava.”
“She’s going to need her stuff,” I say, changing the subject because I’m tired of not being understood, of having two different conversations. “Her sewing equipment, especially. I’m going to bring it over.” I don’t want her to lose even a minute of the time she needs.
Nic sighs. “Why don’t you come to talk to her? I’d rather you two work shit out.”
Same, but she didn’t think it was possible. She’s already made up her mind and I need to respect that.
Chapter thirty-one
Mina
Iwakeinahalo of tissues, clutching the box to my chest.
I left Timothy.
That’s all it takes to wring a few thousand more tears from my eyes. I’m in one of Nic’s guest bedrooms, still wearing my clothes from yesterday, and my heart is mashed to a pulp.
I miss Timothy. I want him to hold me and tell me he’ll make everything better. I want to believe he can.
On some level, I knew this would happen—it was the reason I wanted to keep him in the friend zone, even after I realized my attraction. Keeping my heart safe and keeping myself a functioning adult…those things were important to me.
They need to be important to me now. Even though I don’t want to get up, I have to find it in me to go back to Timothy’s for my sewing stuff. I can’t lose him and my business. I won’t survive.
I throw on some yoga pants and a T-shirt and go looking for Nic. I’m going to need him to drop me off.
Every surface in Nic’s house is shiny and reflective, white on white with the occasional startling slab of charcoal gray. None of the furniture looks welcoming. I don’t know how he stands it.
That it fits my state of mind makes it worse. Every thought is a reflection of what went wrong and I can’t escape it into some cozy corner because there aren’t any.
I’ve lost my best friend and the man I love.
I stop short at a glass wall. Nic has a home gym.
This house might be the physical manifestation of my pain, but there’s a place for me to work through it and fight. This is what I need right now. I’ll go to Timothy’s for my stuff after.
I hit the gym hard. Maybe too hard. A couple of minutes in and the seam bursts on the punching bag, spilling sand onto the floor like a broken hourglass while I gape at it, trying to catch my breath.
I feel Nic in the doorway before I look up. “It was poorly made,” I say.
He doesn’t look convinced.
When I move to clean it up, he tells me not to, but something in my eyes makes him reconsider. He brings me a broom and dustpan before he disappears again.
I think he’s scared of me.
The door of the guest bedroom next to mine is wide open when I head back to my room to shower, so I stop and stick my head in.
