Page 154 of Love Sick

You two belong together.

Does she really believe that? Alesha may have gone about it the wrong way, but when she found her love, she jumped for it. Made sacrifices for it. Does she think I should do the same?

It’s something Julian would do for me.

The thought strikes like lightning.

He’d do it for me.

Julian wouldabsolutelydo that for me. I’m certain of it. Does that mean—doI trust him? Did I somehow learn to trust when I wasn’t watching? Somewhere on the narrow path between his unfailing constancy and my inability to resist him, did I set down my defenses and hand him my heart for safekeeping?

What have I done that makes you think I won’t keep loving you even when it’s hard?

Nothing. He did nothing. All he ever did was love me.

Gaze frozen on my steering wheel, I think about Julian. About his raspy voice whispering he loves me in the dark of night. His capable hands teaching me how to use laparoscopic instruments. His patience with my gnawing anxiety. His kiss and his no-smile and his perpetual kindness.

He is nothing like Matt. He is Matt’s antithesis.

If I believe that, then why am I still trying to convince myself I can’t trust him? It will always be true that I’m a mess of a human, but maybe I can learn to believe him when he says he loves me how I am, flaws and all.

I need to tell him what happened to me.

Because I belong to him, don’t I? He’s a part of me. I’m a part of him. Even the parts I don’t necessarily like. Once he knows, he can make an informed decision. He can accept me, or he can take the out I gave him. He’ll have the whole picture.

Matt doesn’t fit between us, and the rumors don’t have a place there, either. The ice queen? She’ll go to her grave before I let her squeeze into the space separating us again.

I love you, and I want you forever.

Oh my god. He said that, and I let him walk away.

What the hell have I done?

Julian

APRIL, YEAR 2

Alesha takes an entire week to respond to me. She’d apparently been on a honeymoon in Cancún.

Lucky her.

The last weekend in April is the only one I don’t work this month, and Alesha begs to take me to brunch. Her explanation is expected but fails to relieve the gnawing anger low in my gut.

She messes with the crumbs on her plate, cutting them into smaller and smaller pieces with her butter knife. “If she’d ever told me how much it bugged her the way people talked…”

I scowl. “She internalizes everything. How have you not figured that out by now?”

She shrugs.

“Maybe you should have asked her. You should have used a little logic. No one likes to be gossiped about, and everyone will put a brave face forward to deal with it. Why would you think Grace is any different?”

“Shesaid—”

I lift a hand to stop her. “No. Don’t lie to me. This is on you. You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know. Because it was easier for you that way.”

The server comes to clear our plates. When he leaves, Alesha takes a deep breath, eyes bright. “I’m having to face some difficult truths about myself lately.”

My hard stare is unwavering. “Please forgive me for the zero fucks I give.”

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