My entire being cringes, though my face remains still. Calm.
Not serious.
There’s that other word. She’s two for two today. Must have downloaded a lingo app designed specifically to cut me. But like... Why am I surprised? She’s only saying what every woman has said before her. I’m not serious. We all know it. Even Jocelyn thinks so.
Won’t let this pain show. Hurts like a motherfucker, though. Not sure if I’ll come back from it, but... problem for another day.
I paste on a smile. “Right. Of course. Yeah.”
“Really?” The tension in her shoulders eases.
“Nothing that happens in Florida counts, baby doll. Didn’t you know?” My voice is leaden, but her small, relieved laugh says she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
How could I have misread her so completely? I asked her if she was sure, and she said yes. I thought she wantedme, wantedus, but really, she wanted to know what I’m like in bed. Is this barbed wire scraping through my insides or something? The pain is sharp enough that I should be bleeding.
I’m not, though.
I’m intact, and I can give her what she wants. I can move on. Pretend it doesn’t matter. Ignore the resultant heartbreak.
At least one of us will walk out of this pain-free. We can stay friends, like she wants. Casual.
“It doesn’t have to change a thing,” she says.
But what if I want things to change? What if, for once, I want to be someone’s endgame?Herendgame?
The words hover at the tip of my tongue—I want to be more than friends—but saying them might drive a wedge between us that will never disappear. I’d rather have her as a friend than nothing.
... Right?
Can I be in love with someone, see her every day and pretend I don’t love her? Is maintaining our friendship worththe knife that will sink deeper into my heart with each smile, each hug, each grain of hope she hands me until she eventually finds someone else? Someone she’s capable of letting inside?
She’ll run tohisarms. Sleep inhisbed. Marryhim.
And I’ll be here again, in a hotel room at her wedding. Listening to a different woman tell me I’m not good enough.
Joss ducks into my line of sight. “Asher?”
I stare at the backlit white curtains, refusing to meet her gaze.
I’ve been in love before, but not like this. Jocelyn Mattox is my person. My always. It’s a mere unfortunate—but predictable—set of circumstances that I’m not hers.
That’s when it hits me.
I can’t do this.
Iwon’tdo this.
My hands slowly clench. Blood drains from my head. Woozy, I take a breath and I— I decide to destroy it all. Fuck it. Fuckthis.
“I’m in love with you.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Her brown eyes widen.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” I say. “I just—I’m pretty sure you must not feel the same, but I think I need to hear you say it.”
Her lips part. Nothing comes out. Not a great sign.
I rub my face and sigh. “Last night was— It meant a lot to me is all I’m saying, so... Can you see a future for us? Romantically?”
