Page 112 of Getting Over You

“Well, I did,” I say. “I broke her heart. To her, that’s the same thing.”

“Broken things get fixed all the time,” Eddy says with a chuckle.

“And good things eventually all go away,” I retort. “You’re dying, Ed. And we can’t get that second shop.”

“Is that why you’re losin’ your mind? The tattoo shop?”

I sigh shakily. “It sucks. All of it. Now you’re dying, and I don’t have the shop to distract me from that. It’s—It can’t get worse.”

“You’re not the one dyin’,” he says through a chuckle.

“To be fair,” I reply, “you don’t know if you are, either. Not really.”

“I’m living like I’m terminal, kid,” Eddy says. “It’s better that way. I don’t have any regrets in life up until this point; I’m not gonna start now.”

“So, what if they determine it’s fixable? That you can be yourself again?”

“Then I’ll come back to my normal life knowing I did everything I ever wanted while I was away from it. Nothing wrong with that.”

I consider this. “So, you really regret nothing, then, huh? Lived your whole life thinking you’ve done all the right things?”

“It’s not that I think I’ve done everything right, nah,” Eddy explains. “It’s that if I do something wrong, if I make a mistake, I do my damndest to make it right. Me and your aunt aren’t perfect, kid. We ain’t. But the thing is, when I mess up, I let her know. Nothing is worth losing her.”

“But the shop—”

“What we do, my career, that’s not worth anything if it isn’t for your aunt. I love you, kid, and I’m happy to be able to have this opportunity for ya, but the whole thing… the shop. It’s not for you, it’s for her. Because of her.”

I swallow. “I understand.”

“Do ya?” Eddy asks. “If you feel anything for that girl, you tell her. I promise she’ll want to hear it. If you don’t, you might regret it when you’re fifty and have ball cancer.”

“I won’t have ball cancer,” I bite back.

Then again, I never thought I’d ever be in love, either.

Chapter thirty-seven

Ithought ending the relationship with Marcus was bad—the worst emotional pain I’ve felt. I haven’t slept in two days. I can’t drink coffee to wake myself up. I tried to pour myself a cup the morning after I got home and ended up crying into it.

Turns out, Cade Deans breaking your heart is much more painful than when another guy does it.

I knew it would end like this. And yet, I did it, anyway. I let him set me aflame, and didn’t try to put the fire out when it got to be too much to handle. Silly me.

I knew better. I couldn’t resist burning myself. And it hurts, like everyone said it would.

“I’m happy to see you looking nowhere near dead this morning,” Mom says when I come into the kitchen. “Feeling better?”

“Gee,” I say, sitting at the kitchen island, “thanks.”

“Sorry.” She smiles apologetically. “I really am worried about you. You’ve been a zombie since you got home.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“You’re not, though. I know my daughters, Gigi. And you are never like this. You’ve never been likethis.” She creates a circle with her hand to emphasize.

“It’s nothing.”

“You said no to ice cream yesterday.”

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