Page 112 of Rules in Love
It was clear he was trying to play it cool, but he had a giant, throbbing vein running down his temple that looked as though it may burst any second, and his fists were tightly gripping onto the cuffs of his jacket.
Angry Teddy was intense. I felt like I should revert to calling him Theodore.
“Okay. So, it’s like that, then, is it? No talk of Scarlett, the woman you love, my best friend, that you and your fucked-up, self-pitying attitude have absolutely shattered? She’s right. You really are a coward.” He studied my room again, taking extra time to look over my neatly organized packing system and the almost exact replica of my desk at work. “Even here, you have everything just so, don’t you? All your boxes and pens are lined up in a row. All under control.”
“Control? I have no control over one single shitty thing in my life. I most definitely can’t control myself around her. That’s why I need to leave. She makes me feel like being wild, and impulsive, and doing crazy shit like asking her to move in, proposing, and…” The power of Scarlett took hold and compelled me to do something unthinkable. My hands surged forward and grabbed a handful of red, blue, and black pens. There may even have been a pencil. I picked those bad boys up and then shoved them back into one ungodly mess of a container. Panting, I fell back into my chair, feeling free, almost feral.
The ridiculousness of my actions forced a laugh to burst from Teddy and even drew the smallest of smiles out of me. “Whoa, Finn. Calm yourself down, big fella. Don’t go blowing a gasket on me. Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. And I haven’t been for a long time. On the surface, I may appear calm, controlled, and organized, but inside, it’s tears, guilt, and grief. And it’s ripping me apart.”
The pity in Teddy’s brown eyes made me feel sick. I looked away, focusing instead on the mess I made on my desk. Then I saw it, Shelby’s letter, trapped beneath those damn pens. I’d spent hours poring over and tormenting myself with the damn things and decided to share the pain.
I picked it up, threw it to Teddy, and tried to find a way to explain myself. “I thought if I made a go of things here for a while, I could take Iris home and really give her the happy life Shel wrote about. But then Scarlett happened. For a while, I felt like I was betraying Shelby by feeling the way I did for her. That I was somehow taking Iris away from her mum. But the harder I fell for Scar, the quieter that voice became. I thought I was moving on. But when she turned me down, I realized how much I strayed from my plans and promises. How at risk I was again. It was a slap to the face with a wet fish, but it was exactly what I needed. I don’t think I could survive losing her if things got any more serious, Teddy. And it’s selfish of me to put Iris in that position too. That’s why it’s just better to go now before I get us both in any deeper.”
Teddy sighed, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Look, Finn, I don’t want to sound all preachy, but have you ever thought about getting some therapy? I found a great therapist here in The Village, and I can give you his name if you like?”
“You go to therapy? But you’re, like, the happiest guy I know.”
“Duh, because I go to therapy. I hate to tell you this, Finn, but you’re not the only one with chaos running below the surface. Coming out at twelve to the British aristocracy that is my family pretty much scarred me for life. I’ve done therapy on and off since. No one can manage everything alone, Finn. By the sounds of it, you’ve got a lot to manage. Grief and loss of any kind bloody suck, and if you don’t deal with it, you end up losing even more. Even people, like—”
“People like Scarlett?”
“Yes, people like Scarlett. Don’t leave, Finn. She loves you as much as you love her. I have no doubt that she will and probably already does want a family with you, but you can’t just ambush her with a proposal and expect her to fall at your feet.” Teddy stepped closer and started to play with my hair. Oddly, it was very calming. “That thing you said to Scar about Brettles being your understudy was really shitty. She hasn’t looked twice at Brett since we’ve been here. I know you’re hurt, but that was a cheap shot.”
“I know.”
“Good, that’s a start.” For some reason, he sniffed his fingers and screwed up his face. “You didn’t even give her the chance to think or explain how she felt, and that’s the bare minimum you owe her. Now, as for this letter…” he said, placing it in my hand, “reread it. Your grief has blinded you to the beauty of Shelby’s words. You’re not listening to what she’s trying to say, either.” He took two paces, hummed, and stopped. “Also, you need to wash your hair. That shit stinks.” With a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the top of my smelly head, he was gone.
Melancholy moodiness had me slump onto the floor, and there I remained for quite some time, looking at the mess I’d made of my room—and life. Shelby’s letter, the constant reminder of my selfishness, sat beside me. Blinking through my tears, I picked it up and read it for the hundredth time.
Maybe it was the dim winter light, or the sound of the snow pounding against my window—something Shelby, who’d never traveled farther south than Sydney, had never experienced—or perhaps the simple freedom of a messy desk I didn’t immediately clean. Or maybe it was the seed that Teddy planted taking root, forging new pathways and possibilities in my mind. I couldn’t be sure, but somehow, everything looked different.
We will be happy.
I’d tortured myself with those four words for weeks.
Shelby wanted to be happy, and she wanted me and Iris to be happy. But she was gone, and I was here on the floor, a shell of a man who couldn’t be further away from that very thing.
I read her words again and again, and with each reading, more of the weight, guilt, pain, and suffering that Scarlett’s love had already begun lifting shifted even more.
Mum and Dad chose to go to Sydney to get my gift. I didn’t pour whiskey down the throat of the truck driver who met them on that lonely stretch of road. That was all him.
Yes, I was lost and sad, but I did love Shelby. Wewere both responsible for her pregnancy, but neither of us was responsible for her death.
I wasn’t responsible for Jocelyn giving up her business to live with us, nor was I for Evie choosing to care for Iris.
None of these actions had been my choice, my doing…my fault. And the things we had any choice in whatsoever were all done for love.
Like Scarlett loved me.
Like I loved her.
Like the kids loved each other.
I wasn’t saving Iris by taking her away. I was hurting her.
I’d become so determined to live in honor of Shelby that I’d forgotten to live in honor of myself.
