Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
She continues to stare at me, unmoving and unspeaking.
“I said I’m giving you the money for your husband’s surgery.”
“I heard you,” she confirms clearly, getting up off the bed quickly. I watch her walk to the other side of the room, stop, breathe in, and turn around. “Why?”
I don’t know what kind of reaction I was expecting. I hadn’t thought about it, if I’m honest. It was too hard to get past the internal ache my intention was spiking. I look down at the bed, struggling to compose a legitimate response to her simple question. My heart and my head are having a full-on fight. I can’t land my feelings on her now. Not with everything she’s going through. “Because I’m your friend,” I say, not too convincingly.
“Oh no,” Lo breathes, pulling my face up. Her wide eyes, her tense body. She’s clicked. “Don’t do this, Luke,” she begs, stepping back. “Please don’t ruin what we have.”
I look away, ashamed. “What do we have?” I ask quietly.
“An amazing friendship.” Her voice shakes as she fights to hold herself together. I feel nothing short of awful.
I approach her slowly, anxiously, my mouth a straight line of frustration. Frustration with myself. She eyes me all the way until I come to a stop before her. “I’m falling in love with you, Lo.” I say it so calmly, like it’s something I’ve accepted. Because I have. Took me long enough to realize, though. I’m a prat.
“Then stop falling,” she blurts, moving away from me, tears forming in her eyes. “Right this minute, you must stop.”
“It’s too late.” I look away, my shame increasing. “I know I can’t have you,” I whisper, the pain caused by saying that out loud excruciating.
“Of course you can’t. I’m married. My husband is dying, Luke. How could you do this to me?” She pivots and walks away, but my arm shoots out before I can think better of it, pulling her to a stop. Just the fact that she’s so angry with me kills me. I don’t want her to be angry with me. I know I can’t expect her to understand, but I can’t bear the thought of her hating me.
“I’ve never felt like this about anyone,” I say sincerely. “You’re so brave. So loyal and determined. You’ve made me see life differently.”
“What do you even want me to do with this?” she asks through a hopeless sob.
“I don’t want you to do anything with it.” My hands cup her cheeks, my lips pressing into her forehead as I breathe in. It’s all I can do not to break down in front of her when she takes my wrists and squeezes, her body jerking with her sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I release her and move back, putting distance between us. “You can’t control love. You can only feel it,” I say quietly, shrugging when she glances up at me. “That’s just the way it is.”
“I’m angry with you,” she whispers.
“I’m kind of pissed off with myself too,” I admit, unable to stop myself from taking her hand and threading my fingers through hers. “This is all my fault, so please, please don’t feel bad.” I force my hand from hers and take myself to the bed, sitting on the edge. “This is on my conscience, not yours.” She told me she loved me last night, and I knew it was platonic. But she was in my arms all night and it felt right. Yet I know I’ll never get that again. It was a double-edged sword bringing her into my bed, but I couldn’t have stayed away. Couldn’t have left her to face her desolation alone. She’ll never love me. She’ll never allow herself to love me. Not now. Not ever.
This is my reality, and it hits me hard.
I will never be the love of her life. Whether he’s alive or dead, her husband will always be her first. Maybe her only. “Falling in love with you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” I look up at her and smile a small smile, seeing her whole body shrink in response. It’s for that reason I hold back from telling her that this, right now, is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. “I’m sorry if that’s wrong.”
Lifting my hand, I silently call for her to come to me, and she does, but then stands hesitantly before me. This is killing me.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispers.
“Please don’t be sorry, Lo.”
“But, I shouldn’t have stayed . . . shouldn’t have slept—” She swallows a sob, and I pull her onto my lap, where she then hugs me with a force that could crush me. The pain inside of me intensifies, my eyes closing before my emotion starts to leak from them. “No. I wanted to hold you, Lo. Wanted to be the one you needed. Please don’t feel guilty about that.”