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“Noapologyis going to fix what you did,” I spit.
He blanches and I jump in for the kill.
“Isawyou. AtTartucci’s, with her. Whoever she is. A girl that’s not me. Tall, blonde, beautiful. Gorgeous smile. Probably uncomplicated and not messed up in the head and has no problem being open and expressing her feelings to you.” I curse myself when my voice catches on a sob. “Age appropriate and someone you can proudly display on your arm. In short, the perfect woman. I get it, that’s the worst part,” I say, the tears making a reappearance now. “She’s everything anyone could ever want, so of course you want her.”
He exhales roughly, shaking his head.
“Nera…”
He pulls me against him, his hand moving to cup my cheek. I turn my face to the side, not wanting his touch on me.
“This should be the easy part for you,” I cry out. “You should be with her, you shouldn’t be here, but you are. Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep staying when I tell you to go?”
He grips my jaw and forces me to look into his heated eyes.
“Because I fucking love you, that’s why,” he exclaims. “I’min lovewith you.” Softer, he adds, “How is that not painfully obvious to you by now?”
I’m mouth open ready to clap back at him, but the words die on my tongue at his words. Silence stretches for interminable seconds as I process his words.
“You can’t say that to me wh–”
“That woman you saw me with. The blonde? That’s Tess.”
“I don’t want to know her fucking name,” I hiss, furious. Shoving at him.
My mouth is operating independently from my brain, the muscle too occupied with the words he just so casually dropped like they’re not the most important words a person could ever say.
“Nera, it’sTess. My sister. The one I’ve talked to you about.”
I pause like a record scratch mid-thought. It’s as if the haze of anger instantly evaporates, leaving rational thought in its place. He has told me a lot about her over the past few months, how she’s his best friend and most trusted adviser.
Tristan sees the cogs working behind my eyes and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through rows of photos before selecting one and turning the phone in my direction. It’s a picture of him as a teenager next to a blonde.
The same one from the restaurant.
He swipes and there’s another photo, this time of him when he was even younger, with her at the beach.
Relief lifts the impossible weight that the anger, hurt, and pain had been pressing suffocatingly down on all my major organs and provides an immediate release of serotonin and hope.
“She surprised me out of the blue last night. I would have introduced you yesterday but her…fiancé interrupted us Friday night and took her back to Engla– you know what, it’s a long story. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is the fact that she’s my sister and not some other woman I was seeing behind your back.”
My heart pounds with every word, but he keeps going.
“What we have isreal. You weren’t –aren’t– just a fling to me. I’m putting it all on the line for you. To have you. All because I can’t get you out of my head or my heart. The worst part is I’m fully aware of all the consequences that come along with loving you, but I can’t get myself to have one ounce of self-preservation. I don’t care what happens to me because the alternative — a world in which you and I aren’t together — isn’t even worth considering, let alone living.”
He grabs my face, squeezing it almost painfully in his hands as he stares hot-bloodedly into my eyes.
“You know how it feels to see you coming out of a car with another man? It hurts me,” he exclaims, inches from my face. He grabs my hand in his and clasps it over his heart. It beats wildly, frantically, and I’m certain I can feel the remnants of that pain. “Mentallyandphysically. It’s like having a dagger the size of the Burj Khalifa buried inside my heart. It’s all I can think about, it’s all I can feel because it hurts every time I fuckingbreathe. Do you understand me? I’m in physical pain seeing you with him, imagining you with anyone who isn’t me. Think about that the next time you assume I’m interested in anyone else,” he says, backing away and running an erratic hand through his hair. He turns back around and walks up to me. “I have a black and white world and you are responsible for the only parts of it in color, Nera. I’m unwilling to give my colors up.”
He cups my face again, brushing my hair manically out of my face.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You have to believe that. You have to trust me. I’m not your father, I’m not your mother. I’m Tristan. I’m here in this room foryou. I just revealed our relationship to your friends and put my career in jeopardy for you. I wake up in the mornings thinkingof you. I am yours in every conceivable way that exists and if they invent new ways, I’ll be yours in those ways too.”
Shock freezes me. I hate the parts of me that don’t know how to be loved and reject it at the first sign of trouble. The constant self-sabotage is exhausting and I suddenly feel world weary. I’m tired of fighting all the time.
“You’re so busy trying to push me away that you can’t even see that I’m right here. I’mhere, Nera. I’m not going anywhere.” He drops his forehead against mine, taking a deep breath. He whispers, “Please stop pushing me away.”
I cry quietly as we stand there. The origin of my tears is a mystery to me. It’s a mix of whiplash, relief, and the heady feeling of happiness.
