Page 103 of Pretend for Me

Just when I think I’m truly on the verge of passing out, warm hands cup my face and Dev places something in my palms.

“Breathe into this!”

His booming voice cuts through the buzzing inside my brain, and I haul the paper bag to my mouth. I cover it before taking in gulps of air. My eyes squeeze tight as Dev continues to soothe me with his words, telling me I’m okay. That I’m safe. That he’s right here.

He rubs my back as I continue to breathe and eventually, the vice grip inside my chest begins to loosen. My breaths slow and I finally take a few long inhales through my nose.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing great.” He brushes a strand of hair off my damp forehead, tucking it behind my ear. “Just breathe.”

I nod, leaning into his touch.

And though the anxiety has waned, my voice still feels strained. “I’m sorry.”

Dev shakes his head, kneeling in front of the bed, pulling me toward him. “No, sweetheart. Don’t apologize. Never apologize.” He interlocks our fingers. “Have you had a panic attack before?”

I shake my head, my mind racing to make sense of what just happened.

What does it mean that his words caused such a physical and mental response inside my body?

Is this what it feels like to come to terms with the fact that you love someone, while your body physically rejects the idea? It’s a terrifying realization—that I’ve grown to care for and love this man, mixed with the paralyzing fear of what that means.

It took him three simple words to shake me to my core, to make cracks in the walls I’d carefully constructed around myself. I’ve spent so much of my adult life believing love is dangerous and that commitments lead to heartache. And now his three words are making me question it all.

But even if we love each other, even if I say those words back, can I truly believe that it’ll last? What if it doesn’t? Am I strong enough to face that outcome? Even the thought of opening myself up and letting someone settle into my heart, only to have it all wither away one day, is paralyzing.

If his confession had such an effect on me, what would happen if he decided he no longer loves me one day? This panic attack would be a mere twinge in comparison to the onslaught of pain that could be at the end.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice pulls me out of my daze, but one look at his worried expression and I feel my heart in my throat again. “I think . . . I think I need some time, Dev. Some space.”

His eyes bounce between mine, his hand loosening around mine. “Space?”

I swallow, hoping to keep a new rush of tears at bay. “I need to wrap my head around everything. My feelings, your feelings . . . they’re all just a lot to process at once.”

His shoulders fall and I fucking hate the way his expression does, too. Because I did that to him. I took away his smile; I put a blemish on the hope that was blooming inside him.

A pang of guilt twists my insides, but I can’t take back my words. I need the space and time to figure out if I’m strong enough to face a real future with him.

Dev nods. “Whatever you need.”

“It might be good for me to stay at my place this week,” I say, my chest burning at the thought of being away from him, but knowing I won’t be able to make sense of my feelings when I’m mere feet from him—his lips, his arms, his presence—inside this house.

He nods again, but there’s no mistaking his frown. “Okay. I’ll talk to Ralph about making some changes so there’s more security around your condo.”

I get off the mattress, in no mood to wiggle back into my own clothes. Instead, I pick up one of his button-downs from a chair and wrap it around me. I’m immediately enveloped in his scent, knowing I’ll be wearing it to bed every night, like my armor and comfort all at once.

Dev helps me pick up my clothes off the floor, handing them to me. His fingers brush against mine and just that small touch sends a current through my body.

I head toward his door and am just about to step out when he stops me.

“Can I ask you something?”

His voice is soft and hesitant, making my heart clench. I turn over my shoulder, hoping to steel myself for his question,but knowing he has the power to crumble my fragile willpower. Still, I nod.

“Do you . . .” He clears his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Do you feel anything for me? Anything real?”

My chin wobbles as a pang slashes through my chest. The raw vulnerability in his eyes, the hesitant hope in his voice, it feels unbearable.

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