‘But you wouldn’t be happy,’ I argue.
‘I would.’ He repeats himself in the same tone. ‘If I had you.’
‘Finn!’ I exclaim, shaking my head with despair. ‘Don’t do this. It’s too late.’
‘You just said yourself that it’s never too late. That I should go home and fight for Brit.’
It hurts hearing him say her name – what does that tell me? I am nowhere close to being over him.
‘What if I stayed and fought for you?’ he asks.
I swallow, steadying myself. ‘I don’t want you to,’ I reply adamantly. ‘I want to be with Tom. He … he has a heart condition,’ I find myself confiding. ‘It’s potentially fatal.’
Three seconds pass.
‘Are you serious?’
His question doesn’t come from a place of compassion or concern. The tone is that of someone asking,Are you fucking kidding me?
‘Why the hell are you saying it like that?’ I demand to know.
‘Well, it’s just typical, isn’t it? You’re drawn to pain and suffering. It’s why you excel as an artist.’
‘If you’re suggesting that I’m staying with Tom to fan the flames of my own creativity, you’re out of your fucking mind.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘I’d never forgive you if you did.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says abruptly. ‘I don’t mean it at all.’
‘I love him, Finn,’ I say resolutely. ‘I don’t love him because I’m drawn to pain and suffering. What I feel for him is pureand clean. I love him because he’s strong and steady. Because he chose St Agnes. Because he choseme. He has never wavered.’ I reach out and take his hand as his eyes fill with tears again. ‘I’m not sure I ever said thank you,’ I say huskily, my own vision going blurry. ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you all these years. I’m so grateful to you, Finn. You helped me through the hardest time in my life – you have beensoimportant to me. A part of me will never stop loving you. But I choosehim. And you’ve got to let me go.’
‘You’ve only known him for a short while,’ he says hoarsely. ‘How are you so sure about him?’
‘I don’t know, but Iamsure.’
‘Do you mind if I wait on the sidelines in case you turn out to be wrong?’ he asks, trying to make light of it, but his pain cuts straight to my core.
‘Don’t wait for me, Finn,’ I implore him. ‘I plan to be with Tom for a very long time.’
Maybe for the rest of my life. And if not the rest ofmylife, then hopefully for his.
The last of my tears have dried by the time I return to the cottage, but I can still feel the remnants of saltwater tracks on my cheeks. I wonder, surreally, if Tom will see a pattern in them, and then I wonder if Tom will see them at all.
What if he’s left? Why would he stay?
Because he told me that he would, I remind myself.
When I say something, I tend to mean it. You don’t need to doubt me.
When he first said those words to me, I remember thinking that I could fall in love with him.
And I have. I love him. And I trust him. He’ll be here.
My heart rate begins to stabilise as I stand on my doorstep, trying to compose myself before getting my keys out of my pocket. The downstairs apartment is quiet as I unlock the front door and enter the hall. I think our guests have gone out.
Ourguests. I notice how right that feels. Tom and I are a team now. I know that he’ll be at my side with every step I take.
