Page 57 of Don't Fall

“Not really.” She gives a lackluster poke at an open mussel, apparently accepting defeat in her quest for more shrimp, and raises her gaze to meet mine again. “I mean, I always thought you were, but you don’t ask a question like that unless you have doubts, and you only have doubts if it’s not the real deal.”

“Maybe I don’t have doubts. Maybe I’m just trying to rationalize how we ended up where we did. Maybe I would prefer to think there’s a possibility I was never in love at all, and that’s why I missed...all the obvious shit I missed.”

She frowns and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with having finished the last of the mussels now too. “What are we doing here, Lane? Are you asking my opinion or are you trying to use me to psychoanalyze yourself?”

I drop my elbows to my knees, leaning into my hands, covering my face and half hoping it will finally be the thing that blocks her out, makes her disappear. It’s not.

“It’s Tessa,” I groan into my palm.

“Yeah, we can go ahead and skip the obvious parts.”

I’m so caught off guard, I lift my head to look at her again.

“What?” Her fork does a swirl through the air as she does a halfhearted attempt at throwing her hands up at me without giving up on the commitment she’s made to eating her dinner. “I was there. I saw the way you were looking at her all night.” Her fork starts swirling about again, this time it comes shooting out at me. “That’s not love either, by the way.”

I snort. “It’s...something.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes bug out at me. “Sex.”

It’s more than that. It’s unlike any sex I’ve ever had before. There’s this intense physical connection anytime I’m with her, I can’t begin to understand, let alone explain, and I sure as hell can’t seem to control it. “It’s more complicated than just sex.”

She drops her fork into her fairly empty plate, pushing both out of the way. “Really, what would be complicated about sleeping with your student, one you already live with and who clearly has a crapload of issues before adding you to her load,” she scoffs, words dripping in sarcasm.

“You’re right. Being honest is the least likeable thing about you.” I start to get up. I’ve got her undivided attention now which means she’s basically useless to me. “Thanks for listening though.”

I’m nearly to the door when I hear her again.

“Are you taking pictures?”

“No.” Haven’t even unpacked my camera since I moved.

“You should. Your lens always shows you what you need to see. Pretty sure Olivia taught you that much at least.”

Which is precisely why my camera is buried at the bottom of my old duffel bag, under the extra linens I didn’t need and the winter clothes I may or may not have to unpack while I live at the condo. Some things hurt too damn much to see.

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