Page 199 of My Rules

Anger wins. “You want to know my problem?” I spit. “I’ll tell you what my fucking problem is. I went to the bathroom last night and heard two women talking about how there’s no way in hell that a washed-up divorcée could ever hold you and that it’s only a matter of time before you dump me.”

He puts his weight onto his back foot, physically taken aback.

“And it got me thinking about our situation and how they are completely right. It is only a matter of time before you break up with me, and I’m not prepared to get my heart broken, so I’m saving you the trouble.”

“You fucking coward.” He sneers.

“What?” I explode.

“The only person who is in danger of getting their heart broken around here is me.”

“You?” I cry. “How the hell are you in danger of anything?”

“See, here’s where you and I are different. You’re scared of falling in love with me.”

“And you’re not scared of that?” I cry.

“I’m already in love with you!” he yells so loud that the paint nearly peels off the walls. “And the fact that you don’t know that is a fucking red flag.”

“You want to talk about red flags!” I yell back, infuriated. “You telling me that you love me for the first time like that is a major red flag.” I march into the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“Home. Yes it is.”

“Henley is right about you,” he calls.

Huh?

I march back out to the living area. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Never mind.” He sighs as he drags his hand down his face.

“No. I want to know.” I put my hand on my hips. “What does dear old Henley have to say about me?”

“He thinks that I’m the rebound guy and that you’re going to break my heart.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “Coming from him, that’s an actual joke.”

“That’s exactly why it’s coming from him. He knows this stuff; he’s lived it. He keeps telling me that hurt people hurt people.”

“Maybe hurt people are so scared of being hurt that they would rather be alone.” My voice cracks, betraying my hurt.

His demeanor softens. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bec.”

His silhouette blurs.

“Babe ...” He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What if you do?” I whisper through the lump in my throat.

“What if you hurt me?”

The tears break the dam. “How could I ever hurt you?”

“By believing what other people say about me in a bathroom.”

I screw up my face in shame. “It’s just ...”

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