“Only if I don’t turn you into a cheerful and bubbly optimist first,” I retort, and he laughs again. My heart rate picks up as I push forward. “I mean it, though. Didn’t you say the other day that we pretty much had the perfect relationship, minus the physical part?”
He sighs. “I never should have said that. I’m sorry.”
“It might have hurt at little, but you were being honest. And in a way, you were right. It seems like that’s all that’s missing …” I struggle to hide the way my breathing quickens as I leave the offer hanging between us. He’s still quiet, so I turn to look at him. He’s staring at the fire, the muscles in his jaw ticking.
“Landry?”
He licks his lips. “Sorry. I’m processing.”
“Should I be more transparent?” I ask.
“I think I get it. I’m still working on my response.”
I laugh. “Would it help if I took off a few layers?”
He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “God, no. When I said ‘response,’ I really meant ‘restraint.’ ”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “But you don’t need to hold back with me. I like you, Landry, as more than a friend. In fact, I think I mightmorethan like you. And it’s not just because of all the nice things you do for me, although I admire the way you care so much. I think you’re funny, and I genuinely enjoy being with you, especially when you let your guard down. And I’m pretty sure you at least like me, too.”
“Shit,” he curses, scaring those butterflies away. “I was worried you might say something like that.”
“Worried because you don’t feel the same?” I ask, my voice thick.
He doesn’t answer right away, leaving the pops and crackles of the fire to fill the silence.
“Regardless of whether there’s something more than friendship between us, I can’t give you the things you want and deserve, like a real marriage … and babies.”
“You don’t know that. How would a real marriage be so different from what we have now?” I demand.
“I just can’t do it, Daisy. I’m too afraid of hurting you.”
“And you don’t think this hurts?”
He cringes. “I’m sorry. But I’m going to have to move out at some point, one way or another, and we both have a better chance of making it out of this unharmed if we leave things as they are.”
I shake my head. “Who says you have to move out? Rowan?”
“I do,” he replies flatly.
I use my sleeve to wipe my nose. I can’t tell whether I’ve started crying or the cold is getting to me now, but I have to force myself to stop sniffling before I can go on. “You know, you keep saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ but I don’t believe you anymore. So what is it? The epilepsy? The age difference? Or is it because I’m Rowan’s sister that you can’t see a future with me?”
He closes his eyes and sighs again. “I care too much to do this with you. Just … let it go, okay?”
“No, I told you, I won’t justlet it go.” I cross my arms angrily over my chest. “I have a right to the truth, and you know it.”
He groans. “It’s because I’m an asshole, and it’s only a matter of time before Ireallyhurt you. I can’t be the man you deserve, the one who doesn’t overthink everything just to get it wrong anyway, who isn’t afraid to kiss you in public, who believes in love and marriage and all the other shit you do. Despite what you’ve fooled yourself into believing, I’m not capable of making you happy.” He turns to face me, and I swear I see tears in his eyes. “I don’t even know how to be anything less than unpleasant, and I can’t let you waste any more of your time on me.”
“You’re not an asshole, dammit,” I fire back, and he flinches. “Stop saying that. There’s nothing wrong with you, and it isn’t your fault that your friends and family didn’t get you growing up. Mine never really got me, either. Yet somehow, you do, and I get you, too. It seems like most people spend their whole lives searching for the exact thing we’ve accidentally stumbled upon, but you won’t let us be that person for one another. Why won’t you?”
“I’m trying to save you,” he says, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand what being stuck in a miserable relationship can do to someone. You haven’t seen or experienced half of the shit I’ve been through. And I could never risk making you feel that bad.”
“I understand more than you think. You just don’t trust me enough to know my own mind, even though I thought you might have been the only person who did.” He’s quiet so I continue. “And you know what? MaybeI’mnot the one being naive. So your parents taught you how marriage could go badly. Mine showed me that it could be amazing. It doesn’t mean that I expect my relationships to be just like theirs, and neither should you.”
“What do you want from me, Daisy?” He turns his body to face mine. “You want me to admit that I like you? That I’m constantly having to stop myself from fantasizing about being with you for real? That I’ve never wished I was a better person as hard as I do now?” His eyes are pleading, begging me to stop. “None of that would make a difference, even if it were true.”
My heart races, and it’s hard for me to breathe. But I’m not stopping to dwell on a small bit of hope, not when I can sense how close he is to giving in completely. “I want you to actually consider whether you feel that way, and I want you to tell me the truth. Because I believe that stuff makes all the difference.”
“And what if I don’t actually feel what you want me to? What then?”
