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“Don’t let anyone fire Barney,” I said, my throat tightening as I met her gaze and saw the anguish there.
A small smile danced on Sheridan’s lips.
“Barney, huh? He’s always concerned about me.”
My heart raced with anticipation as I reminded myself what the doorman had said to me just ten minutes ago when I’d arrived at the building. Tell her what you just told me, Lars. Don’t change a single word.
And I didn’t.
“I’m here because I love you, Sheridan. I love every part of you. Every moment I’ve had with you. I didn’t know what love felt like before you. And love—” I stopped, turning my face aside as I gathered myself, because I didn’t want her to see the tears gathering in my eyes.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
I sighed softly, the brick wall I was focused on blurring into a swirl of maroon until I blinked and allowed my tears to fall. Balling my hands into fists, I forced myself not to wipe the tears away, and I looked back at Sheridan.
“Love is supposed to be hard for me,” I continued, my voice choked with emotion. “Crying is supposed to be hard for me, too, because…I have autism. But with you…” I hung my head. “Nothing is hard for me with you, Sheridan.”
“You have autism?” She cupped my cheek in her palm, raising my face so she could look into my eyes.
I nodded. “I did the testing. It was very difficult to hear.”
“I can’t imagine. How are you feeling about it now?”
“It makes sense. I always knew I was different. I know it doesn’t change who I am, but it’s going to take time for me to want to talk about it.”
“I just wish I had known so I could have been there for you,” she said softly.
“That night we fought, I was planning to tell you.”
Her lips turned down in a frown and she dropped her hand. “I was planning to tell you about Hugh, too. And it hurt like hell that you accused me of lying about it.”
“I was wrong.”
“I just want someone in my life, just one fucking person, who doesn’t hurt me,” she said softly.
My chest tightened as I felt my future hanging in the balance. I’d come here to bare my soul to Sheridan in the hope that she’d give me another shot. But she wanted someone who had never hurt her, and that could never be me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was hurt, too, even if it does not make sense to you why.”
“Can we stand up?” she asked. “My back doesn’t like being on the floor like this.”
“Of course.”
I got to my feet and helped her get up, and she walked back into the spacious room.
It was more than just a room—it was an entire floor, with light pouring in through the many windows. Art hung on the walls and there was a turquoise sofa along one wall, the coffee table in front of it holding several Starbucks cups, notebooks, and pens.
Whatever this place was, it was a mess. Paintbrushes, bits of paper and pencils were scattered on the floor and a painting on a canvas lay destroyed in a corner of the room.
My gaze landed on a pencil drawing of my face, purple paint splattered all over it and dripping into a small pool in front of the easel.
“I drew that after our first date,” Sheridan said, sitting down on the sofa.
“You are very talented.”
“Not really. Creating art is just an outlet for me. It’s something I don’t share with anyone.”
I turned to look at her. “Does Barney know?”
She shrugged. “He knows I rent this floor, and that I come here sometimes, but not why.”
“The paint is wet,” I observed, looking at the drawing of my face again. “So you are still angry with me.”
Sheridan smiled. “I’m angry at the world right now, Lars.”
“I’m sorry about what Vanessa did. I am in love with you, but if you don’t want a relationship with me, I will try to be a friend to you.”
She looked at her hands, which were folded on her lap. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wasn’t trying to keep my…marriage to Hugh a secret. It’s just that I was so ashamed. I still am ashamed and I probably will be until the day I die. I wanted to make it go away by divorcing him.”
I sighed heavily and walked over to the wall, leaning my hip against it and looking out the window at the city skyline.
“I was ashamed when Keegan said those things about me,” I said.
“Lars, autism is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“My psychiatrist said shame is something many people feel, and that it is something we can’t control.”
“You’re seeing a psychiatrist?” Sheridan asked.
“He’s the one who did the autism testing, and I am going to keep seeing him, because…I am an imperfect man.”
