“Why, Ari? Just tell me why. That’s all Iwant.”
“I’m no one’s future, Dax. Not yours, not any other person’s in this world. The heart in my body was someone’s future once, but now it’s my ticket to the end of the road.” I’m aware I’m making very little sense, but I’m not sure how else to explainmyself.
“That makes no sense,” he says. Disappointment slowly settles over him like a cloud, and his posture is now not-so-subtly slouching forward. I had no idea his feelings had grown so deep or I would never have agreed to even a fakedate.
“There is a very strong chance I won’t make it another five years,” I begin to explain as I slowly unbutton my sweater, letting the fabric fall off my shoulders as I expose my plunging neckline. Feeling the need to close my eyes and shut him out, I allow him the second it takes to see my past, present, and future. I place my hand over the large vertical scar and pull in a sharp breath against the dull and sad beat of Ellie’s heart. “This is only a loaner, a life extension. It’s notmine.”
“The dress?” he questions withconfusion.
“No,” I reply. “The heart beating in mychest.”
“What are you saying?” The tone of his voice tells me we’re now moving on to a saddening hostility. There are stages of acceptance that come along with finding out a person iswilting.
“Many heart recipients go on to have a normal life for a lot of years. Many don’t. I’ve had several small hiccups following my transplant, and each one has lessened my odds of having many normal years left. I’m a ticking time bomb, Dax, and I won’t let you feel the pain I’ve seen as a result of this very heart, even before it was placed into mybody.”
“Ari,” he says, breathing heavily without words to follow. “I’m not going to just run away from you because you're sick or because your heart isn’t perfect. I’m not anasshole.”
“Well then, I have to be one right now,” I tell him, swallowing my pride and pain. “Take me back to the shop,please.”
“Ari, you can’t be serious,” he says,pleading.
“Serious as a heart attack,” I say, forcing a smalllaugh.
“That’s notfunny.”
“Dax, you’ll thank mesomeday.”
“No, I won’t. I’m not giving up,” he says, leaning forward in hisseat.
“Yes, you are. I don’t want to ever see you again. I’ll change my delivery options tomorrow and you can eliminate my stop from your route.” The words coming from my mouth feel like rusty nails, scratching against my tongue for every second longer Ispeak.
“Ari,” he saysagain.
“Dax, take me back, now.” My words are firm and final because I will not do this. I won’t hurt another human being because of this heart. No way. This is my sacrifice, whether anyone agrees with me or not. I don’t need what others need out of life—what I also want, but I know I don’t need. What I do need is to right wrongs and leave my mark, somehow, some way before I leave thisworld.
He stares at me for a long moment before he leans forward to the window that separates us from the driver. Dax mutters something to the man and makes his way back to me. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” hesays.
I lean forward to match the level of his gaze. “You don’t want to. I watched a man nearly croak right after his wife died. I watched his world literally crumble in a matter of seconds. Seeing that made me never want to do that to a person. Ever. I won’t do that to anyone. Especiallyyou.”
“Why especially me?” he asksquietly.
“Because I really, really like you and I know...I know something amazing could have happened between us if I let it, and I have restrained myself from allowing anything to happen since the day you walked into my flower shop, years ago.” Except, this heart doesn’t belong to me. This heart had been given to a man once and ended up breaking his heart. I refuse to do that to anyoneelse.
“Really?”
“Yes,” I tellhim.
He reaches over, takes my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips. “You know I’d fight you onthis.”
“I know, but I’m nicely asking you notto.”
He releases my hand and nods his head with a grief-stricken, subtle movement. “If my heart feels the way it does right now, maybe I wouldn’t survive anything more,” hesays.
It hurts to know the pain I unintentionally caused him has always beeninevitable.
“I’m sorry,” I tellhim.
“Metoo.”
