Page 102 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

“He said he needed Eóghann to help him because he needed to get a message to the woman who bought his painting, and it was his last hope.”

“What?” she says, confused. I get that the whole thing is a little weird. “He wants you to send you a message?”

“Yes,” I mumble, misery churning in my stomach. “He wants to send me a message.”

“For clarity, Henry Fucking Sterling thinks that Kait bought the painting from Eóghann, and he wants Eóghann to put him in touch with Kait?”

I nod.

“What was the message?”

“He said he didn’t realize the painting-buying woman was the most important thing in his life,” I whisper. “He has to find her because tonight is his last hope of finding her.”

“Kaitlin, did Henry tell you he has to find you or give up hope?”

“Not exactly. Sort of.”

“What are you doing over here?” she asks, practically giddy. “What did he say when you told him? Did he tell you he loves you or that he was wrong? Did he start with how much he misses you or go right into declaring undying love?”

I flinch and wonder how to make myself invisible.

“Oh, honey, you didn’t tell him, did you?” she asks, her enthusiasm wilting. “He’d be right here if he knew. He doesn’t know?”

I say nothing, just shake my head.

“Kaitlin, I will support you in any way I can. Every way I can, but I think you should take a look at him before you make a final decision.”

I look. His expression is neutral. His stern posture tries to disguise it, but I know him, and his eyes speak of suffering and sadness, and it’s a thousand times worse to witness now that I know who he is.

“That is not a man thrilled with his life choices,” she whispers, leaning close so no one can hear us. “You owe him not a goddamn thing. That is fact. But what do you owe yourself? Is he the path to your happiness? Will you beat yourself up if you leave it like this?”

She looks around to make sure no one is hearing us before continuing. “I have to admire his persistence. He made a mistake, and he can’t fix it, but he’s still trying.”

I nod but say nothing.

“You could consider letting him prove he’s better than a stupid mistake made after watching one lousy TV show. That kind, sweet, thoughtful man loves you, I know he does. But it’s up to you if you let him, at the absolute minimum, kiss your ass and apologize for what he’s done. You deserve at least that.”

I wipe the tears off my face. She’s right, but I’m terrified. I’m a moldering chum bucket of cowardice. I know the pain he can unleash. I’m filled to overflowing with fear of another helping of it. I can’t take my eyes off him, and of course, he catches me and gives me a tiny, hesitant smile. Kind, even though I refused to help him.

“When he was just a voice, he brought me to my knees,” I whisper. “What do you think a version I can see and feel could do?”

“Love you forever?” She says it as though I’m too stupid to breathe without guidance.

“It isn’t that simple.”

“It could be, or maybe you get some closure. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. Don’t let your fear decide your fate.”

I’ve kept my promise; I haven’t reached out to him. I have friends. Sometimes I sleep at night instead of painting. I leave my apartment on a daily basis without coercion.

Hells bells, I leave my apartment to spy on him. Integrity, how I hate thee. Let me count the ways.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

HENRY

“ANOTHER LOVE” — TOM ODELL “SILVER SPRINGS” — FLEETWOOD MAC

Nothing says healing like dropping ten grand to buy four paintings that remind me of Kait. Sigh.