Page 118 of Paper Roses

“I wonder if I can do the same,” he says softly.

I narrow my eyes. Am I finally going to hear about why he’s been acting so oddly?

“Artie, I need to tell you something.” He takes a deep breath. “My feelings have changed, and you need to know about my heart.” The words are quiet yet loaded with so much feeling.

My thoughts of Bowie disappear like dandelion seeds blown away on the wind. “Pardon?” I say hoarsely. A terrible thought blasts through my brain like a lightning bolt, and I gasp out loud.

He frowns. “What is it? Artie, are you okay?”

Has he found someone else? Is he screwing up the courage to tell me? I swallow hard. “Who is he?” I demand.

“Who’s what?” he asks, staring at me.

My heart is thumping so hard, I can’t find words. I take a heaving breath.

“Shall we finish early?” he asks carefully. “We can finish this conversation another time. You don’t look well.” His hands are on my shoulders, kneading gently.

I knock them away and he startles. “Artie?”

“Your feelings have changed?” I accuse. If he’s admitting this, then he’s obviously found someone to love again.

He flinches, his face pale in the winter light. I’m right. I know it. Pain rips through me. Suddenly, I realise how badly I’ve been fooling myself. I can’t be his friend and watch him be happy with another man. I justcan’t.

Despair twists in my chest, leaving me breathless. Will life never give me what I need and want?

“Yes,” he whispers. “And what do you think about that?”

I give his green eyes a final glance and then turn and walk away. I can’t be here, so I won’t. It’s as simple as that.

“I need to go,” I call over my shoulder. “I just remembered that I have an appointment.”

“Artie?”

I hear his hurried footsteps behind me, but I still startle when he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. His face is white, the lines around his mouth drawn, but his eyes burn with emotion.

“Hang on,” he says hoarsely. “Please don’t go.”

“Let go of me.”

He swallows hard. “Do you still love me?” he blurts out. “I have to know.”

I’m suddenly furious. “How dare you? You didn’t want to know that six weeks ago!”

“Artie, please.”

“No! Don’t interrupt me. You didn’t want my love then, and now you’re asking me about it because you’ve found anotherman, and you’re ready to be happy with him. I didn’t know you could be socruel, Jed.”

There’s a startled silence, and then he shakes his head as if clearing it. His grip is too hard on my shoulders, but I can’t tear myself away, the painful feelings a reflection of the turbulence roiling between us.

“I don’t understand,” he says, gazing into my eyes. I try to step away from his hold, but he stays me. “No,” he says sharply. “We’re having this out now.”

Rain has started to fall, misting our faces, and making everything blurry. It’s so fucking apt that I want to laugh. Cold and dreary could describe my entire relationship history.

Raindrops clump his eyelashes, and the green of his irises has become almost grey in this stormy light. We’re alone on the street now, as everyone sensible has headed indoors.

“You’ve met someone,” I snap. “Well, I don’t want to know about him. Stop talking.”

“Believe me, I haven’t even started yet,” he says grimly. He shakes his head, drops spraying from his hair. “But I have to insist you explain yourself first, as me meeting someone is complete fucking news to me.” The incomprehension in his face would be comical in any other situation.

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