Page 58 of The Truth of Loving You

Cole

Ipacedthelobbyof Unframed Art, going over what I wanted to say in my head. Last time had been a disaster—I briefly thought of making a list. A spreadsheet. A smile crossed my lips.

Dammit. If I knew how to make a spreadsheet in the next few minutes, I’d win his heart for sure. But I was going to have to say what was in my heart and hope that was enough for him to give me another chance.

He knocked before opening the shop door, which was so considerate and on-brand with his personality. He looked as wrecked as I felt, and it broke something inside me, knowing I did that to him.

“Hey,” I said, moving close to him and locking the door to ensure we had privacy. I leaned in to kiss him, but he stepped back. “Let’s go down to my office.”

His head shook vehemently and pointed to the consultation area. “No. How about the couch?”

I’d hoped to do my begging behind closed doors, but I wasn’t about to complain. I started to talk, but he held up a hand, and I owed it to him to listen as he cursed me out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and my stomach hit the floor. He didn’t need to apologize; this wasn’t a good start. “I asked for more than you were ready for, but I didn’t realize how tortuous it was for you and I’m sorry.”

“No.” I heaved in a breath, trying to refocus. “I’m so sorry. It was absolutely not torturous. It was incredible, and I can’t believe I ran away from it. And you. Sorry doesn’t begin to cover how terrible I feel about it.” I watched his face for any signs of anger or resentment.

I dared to hope again when he looked sympathetic.

“I know you do.” Shane grabbed my hand. “I have no doubt that you feel terrible and guilty about what happened. I don’t want to be the source of that struggle for you.”

“You’re not,” I interjected before he told me something I didn’t want to hear.

Squeezing my hand, he said, “You probably don’t remember, but the night we met, you told me that you would never love again.” The look Shane gave me stopped me from arguing. “I always knew this was going to end. I had no illusions that this would be something more than a temporary arrangement.”

“But it changed,” I blurted out, and the pity I saw in his beautiful brown eyes made me want to punch something.

“I was selfish.” He stood, unable to contain his nervous energy any longer. “I wanted to show you that caring about someone else wouldn’t take away from the love you had for Paxton. But not everyone heals from losing their soulmate, and that’s okay. But I don’t want to be the one who keeps hurting you because I want more than you can give.”

“But—”

“The other day it was sex. And maybe you can get over your guilt and feelings about sex, but then what about the next thing I want? Someday I want a committed boyfriend. I’ll want a relationship with maybe marriage and kids. I would never ask that of you because I know that’s not what you want.”

My heart strangled me as if I were dying. The guy I was falling in love with found my deepest pain and stabbed it.

I had a plan. I had things to say. I couldn’t remember a damn thing.

“I think the longer this goes on, the harder it will be to end.” I don’t know what he saw in my face, but he traced his fingertips from my temple down and across my jaw.

Like he was memorizing it for the last time.

“I will always be grateful to you. You gave me a part of myself that I might not have ever known. You’re a good man, Cole Branson. I’ll miss you.” Shane stood on his tiptoes, kissed my forehead, and left Unframed Art and me. Forever.

My heart walked out the door with him, and I couldn’t stop it.

Chapter thirty-two

Shane

WalkingawayfromColewas the hardest thing I’d ever chosen to do. I’d told Cole the absolute truth, that some people never recovered. Spouses of the deceased are often told they can fall in love again. But not everyone wants to. Not everyone can.

If I thought losing Cole was devastating, that was only a fraction of what it was like for him to lose Paxton. I thought my grief and pain helped me understand him, but it blinded me to how much I was hurting him.

I had to let him go. That’s what you did when you truly cared for someone. His needs had to come before mine. I hadn’t done that for Cole. Not in our entire relationship. I kept asking him to sacrifice for me, but I wouldn’t do it for him.

I’d done the right thing for him. I’d made a spreadsheet of all the reasons why I’d done the right thing. I’d eaten greasy food with the chocolatiest, biggest piece of cake and wallowed. I’d taken my therapist’s advice and felt like shit.

I’d tried to cry again and accept, adjust, and move on.

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