Page 57 of The Truth of Loving You

He crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t follow me in. “Bullshit. There are no appointments at this time of night.” His eyes grew wide, and his mouth dropped open. “Unless it’s with a sex worker.”

A laugh escaped even though it wasn’t funny. I should have made him think I did. It would serve him right. “No, asshole, it’s with my therapist.” I woke up my laptop to login. When he didn’t leave, I said, “You get an elevator pitch, sixty seconds to make your case, and then you have to leave. I promise I will contact you with my thoughts within three business days.”

Cole opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to argue with me.

“If you argue, I won’t contact you. Take it or leave it.” I kept my eyes on my computer in an effort to resist him.

“I fucked up. You’re right, I made rules and broke them and never considered how you'd feel about it. I pretended we weren’t in a real relationship, but it was real to me. I don’t have an excuse, and I’m not sure what happened. We had epic sex, but I was clueless about how to be what you needed, and it was terrifying. I let you down because I was the needy one. All I wanted was to be with you. It’s more than sex, I want—”

“Time’s up.” I cut him off. “Thank you for your honesty and not feeding me excuses. Time to go.”

“I don’t think that was a full minute.” Cole shifted, but I still wouldn’t look at him.

Fate was with me because my therapist’s face appeared onscreen and greeted me. I held up a finger to her, and my eyes focused on the door casing above Cole’s head. “Close the door, please.”

He left with his head bowed.

The trip to the cemetery gutted me. I’d avoided coming here for years, but I was so unsettled it felt kismet. I needed to call or text Cole, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. Part of me wanted to forgive him. He was undeniably sorry. He texted me funny GIFs several times a day to let me know he was thinking about me. He’d even said not to feel pressured to respond and I hadn’t.

Logically, the more time we spent together, the harder it would be when we ended forever.

Having Cole inside me had been transformative. My sister, on a drunken night, told me how I had to hold out for someone who would make me feel like our souls were connecting during sex. That was the problem when your sister was also your best friend, TMI. I’d laughed it off. But now, being with Cole once, I understood what she’d tried to tell me.

Sex could be an expression of love and souls joining. If Cole and I continued, I’d want that, and he’d told me the very first night I’d met him that Paxton was his one and only. I believed him. Even if he moved on from his guilt over Paxton, he’d already had his soul-deep love.

My therapist had warned me that my mantra of adjust, adapt, and move on was crippling my progress because I wasn’t allowing myself to feel the pain and loss. That was a fair assessment—I didn’t want to feel those things. I came to the one place where my loss was so strong that I had no choice but to feel.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the woman lying on what appeared to be a child’s grave, weeping. Her voice had risen, so I heard her conversation with the dead.

“Every day that goes by, I miss you more. I can’t believe I’ll never see your sweet face again. People are unintentionally cruel. Your dad wants to fight the world for me, for us. If one more person tells me that I’m young and can have more children, I think I might explode. How dare they tell me that I can just have another child! Are you taking care of your brothers or sisters? Do my miscarriages have souls? I imagine you’re the best big brother. I think fate is telling me that I was only ever meant to be your mom. I can’t wait to be with you again and be your mom.”

I stumbled away, trying not to disturb her.

Her pain choked me.

Spun me into a panic attack.

I managed to get to my car, took my medication, and used my strategies to ride it out.

My breathing and heart rate slowed, so the roaring in my ears dimmed. I slumped over the steering wheel, and the tears finally came. It had been years since I’d cried. That mother’s pain shattered the wall that I’d built to protect myself.

But it also opened my eyes. I’d known Cole was broken over Paxton’s death. He’d been overly honest about his ability to have a relationship with me. I’d been worried about my pain and hurt but ignored his. He said he wanted a relationship with me, but it was clearly hurting him, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

I had become the source of his pain. My selfishness led us to this place. I’d pushed, forcing him to be my first when he wasn’t ready.

He’d grown up with Paxton. They were friends long before they were lovers.

They had an unbreakable bond. Not even in death could sever it.

He’d told me he'd never love again. I’d asked for too much from him.

I knew what I had to do, so I asked to meet Cole at Unframed Art after he closed today. He responded immediately with a time.

I had to help him end his grief. Our relationship was destructive for Cole. I hated knowing that I’d caused him so much pain. After all he’d done to help me manage the stress of a new job, I owed him. I’d taken too much from him for my benefit.

I had to stop it. I had to set him free.

Chapter thirty-one

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