Page 44 of The Cyrano Situation
Each question landed like a blow. I'd been so oblivious, so caught up in my own narrative that I hadn't seen what was happening right in front of me.
"No," I admitted quietly. "It wasn't fair. But I didn't know."
"And now you do." Hart crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what happens now, Cyril? You go back to Jules, and we have awkward interactions at the office until one of us inevitably transfers departments?"
"Is that what you think I want?"
"I don't know what you want!" The outburst seemed to surprise even him. He took a deep breath, visibly trying to regain his composure. "I don't know what you want," he repeated, softer this time.
Neither did I. That was the problem. Jules had been charming, attentive, exactly what I thought I was looking for. If you'd asked my only a couple of hours ago, I'd have said I was falling in love with him. But Hart... Hart was familiar and surprising all at once. Hart was the person I trusted most in the world. Hart was...
What was Hart to me?
"I care about you," I said finally, the words inadequate but true. "You're important to me. More important than I think I've let myself recognize."
Hart's expression was guarded. "As a friend."
"I don't know." The admission cost me, but I owed him honesty. "I've never thought about you—about us—that way. Not consciously."
"Not consciously," he repeated, something flickering in his eyes. "What does that mean?"
I stood up, needing to move, to think. The rain outside had intensified, drumming against the windows in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in my chest.
"It means I don't know what I feel right now," I said, pacing the small kitchen. "It means I'm confused. It means finding out that my best friend has been in love with me for months is making me question everything I thought I knew about us."
Hart watched me, his expression unreadable. "I'm not asking you for anything, Cyril. I didn't even want to tell you."
"But you did tell me," I said, stopping my pacing to look at him directly. "And I can't unknow it. I can't go back to how things were."
"So, where does that leave us?" he asked, and beneath the carefully controlled tone, I heard fear. Fear that he'd ruined everything between us.
I moved closer to him, drawn by that vulnerability. "I don't know yet," I admitted. "But I do know that you're too important for me to walk away from. I know that the thought of not having you in my life makes me feel sick. I know that when you didn't answer my texts this weekend, it felt like something vital was missing."
Hart's eyes softened slightly. "That doesn't necessarily mean… "
"I know it doesn't," I interrupted. "I'm not making any declarations here. I'm just... I'm trying to be honest with you. And honestly, Hart? I'm a mess right now. I need time to process this. To figure out what I actually feel versus what I've been telling myself I feel."
Hart nodded slowly. "Okay." He hesitated, then added, "And Jules?"
The question sent a fresh wave of confusion through me. Jules, who had been my focus for weeks. Jules, who had kissed me and touched me, and made me feel wanted on so many levels. Jules, who was waiting for my call.
"I don't know that either," I admitted. "It's not fair to string him along while I figure this out. But I also don't want to make any rash decisions when everything feels so... upended."
Hart looked away, his jaw tight. "So you're still considering pursuing things with him."
"I'm not considering anything definitive right now," I said, frustration edging into my voice. "Hart, you've had months to process your feelings. I've had twenty minutes. Can you give me some space to catch up?"
His expression softened. "You're right. I'm sorry." He rubbed a hand across his face, looking suddenly exhausted again. "This isn't how I wanted any of this to go."
"How did you want it to go?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I didn't," he admitted with a small, sad smile. "I was planning to take these feelings to my grave, or at least until they faded. Which they would have, eventually. Probably."
The thought of Hart silently suffering, watching me with Jules, made my stomach twist. Whatever else I felt or didn't feel, I couldn't bear the thought of him in pain.
"I wish you'd told me sooner," I said softly.
"Why? So you could let me down gently months ago?"
