“I came somewhere I could do less damage.”
“And where does Mary fit into all this?”
His voice is softer now, but every word still cuts.
“Mary deserves someone who isn’t haunted by a dead child. Someone who can love her without destroying her.”
“You think rejecting her isn’t destroying her?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t have an answer.
Or rather, I do.
I just refuse to admit it.
Jamie stands.
“You know what’s ironic?” he asks.
I look up at him.
“I left because I was afraid she’d reject me.”
His gaze pins me in place.
“You reject her because you’re afraid to love her.”
He pulls on his jacket and adds quietly:
“We’re both cowards. At least I admit it.”
Then he walks toward the exit.
And I’m left alone with my whisky and a truth burning hotter than the alcohol ever could.
Coward.
The word echoes through my head again and again.
I stare into the amber liquid.
At the distorted reflection of a pathetic man who destroys everything he touches.
This is better for her.
She deserves better.
But the voice repeating those words inside my head sounds less convincing every second.
I stay there in the dark corner of The Grumpy Sheep with my whisky and the crushing weight of what I just lost.
Ewan eventually approaches and wipes down the table with slow movements.
“You really gonna leave things like this with Mary?”
Apparently he overheard my entire conversation with Jamie.
