Page 73 of Lessons in Heartbreak

Her hands relaxed at some point, easing their grip off the pillow, and consumed by a sudden urge to touch her, just a little, I reached forward slowly to pluck one of them off her lap so I could hold it in my own. Her eyes pinched shut when I held it up to my mouth and let her fingertips rest against my lips.

I didn’t even really kiss them; I just laid them there so I could feel some part of her. Where my thumb held her wrist, I could feel the steady thrumming of her pulse, and the fragilethump, thump, thumpmade my throat feel impossibly thick.

When she spoke next, Ruby’s voice wasn’t even anymore. She lost the steadiness that had held her upright. Her chin wobbled, but she sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

“I didn’t feel like a real human after my surgery,” she whispered, eyes locked on her fingers against my mouth. “I felt like Frankenstein’s monster. Carved up and pieced together and ... terrifying. Everyone was looking at me like I should be relieved and happy, and I was, but ...” Ruby exhaled shakily. “I didn’t feel like myself for so long.”

My eyes felt dry and hot and filled with sand, and I fought against a tide of restlessness, hearing her say something like that about herself—that she felt like a monster from a cautionary tale. The book on her table made sense now, and I made a mental note to try to read that one too.

“When did that change?” I asked, my voice rough from disuse. I kept her fingers in place, and she shivered slightly when my lips brushed her knuckles as I spoke.

From his perch on the floor, Bruiser whined, notching his big square jaw on the couch by his mistress’s leg like he could sense her distress.

“It took almost three years. I was so focused on staying healthy. Walking every day. I was so strict with what I ate, drank, never wentout—outside of work—because I was so afraid of getting sick.” Ruby licked her bottom lip, carefully extracting her hand from mine to scratch at Bruiser’s head. He settled, eyes eventually falling closed.

“And then I just wanted to live. Not anything crazy, like jumping out of an airplane. But normal things, you know? Like stay up all night talking to someone because the conversation is so good, and I forget to care about sleep. Or a really good one-night stand or going on a long drive in a beautiful convertible. Dance with someone in a club and not worry about people watching.” She shrugged one shoulder lightly. “It all sounds so small, but it’s big to me. And I was sick of not doing any of those things.”

Fucking hell, I was going to cry, wasn’t I? It was the list of simple things, all of which I’d taken for granted but now seemed like a fucking miracle. How thoroughly this woman had humbled me, without intention or forethought. I wasn’t sure my life would ever quite look the same after this. After her.

“And you’re okay now?”

She pulled in a slow breath, eyes locked on her dog. “I’ll always be a little bit at risk,” she answered carefully. “I take immunosuppressants to make sure my body doesn’t reject the heart, but an infection would be much worse for me than anyone else with a normal immune system.”

When her eyes finally lifted again, there was so much heartache there that I felt it like a tear down the middle of my chest. “About half the people who survive the first year after a transplant should live about thirteen years or so. Some live more. Some live less.” She shrugged, like she wasn’t talking about possibly fucking dying in her forties.

A shocked gust of air pushed from my lungs, and I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees and sinking my head into my hands. “Holy shit, Ruby.”

When I looked back up again, her lips—those beautiful soft, soft lips—were curled in a tiny little smile. “That’s why I told you not to fall in love with me. I’m a terrible long-term bet.”

The urge to bolt was so fucking strong.

Facing her—facingthis—was a lot like being shoved off the side of a ship when I least expected it, and the thrashing for air only seemed to make it worse. Sucking in a deep breath helped, and I straightened my shoulders as I stared at her.

She fidgeted. “Say something.”

Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.

There had been so many situations in my life that I’d treated flippantly, that I hadn’t held with care or respect, and if this became one of them, I’d never forgive myself. I’d never be able to look myself in the mirror again if I caused this woman more pain than she’d already experienced.

This wasn’t a time to make a joke or pretend like the things she’d admitted to me weren’t precious, because they were. The thought of this woman not feeling human—God, if it didn’t break my fucking heart.

No, this was a moment for honesty. A moment to trade places with Ruby’s stunning show of vulnerability, even though the mere thought clawed at my skin.

“I-I’ve never dealt with anything like this,” I told her. “And it scares the shit out of me to say the wrong thing or make you feel worse.” I shifted closer, easing my hands onto her knees where she’d crossed them on the couch.Do something helpful, you idiot,a voice battered at the back of my skull, and I spoke without really thinking it through. “What if ... what if we renegotiate again?”

She inhaled slowly, eyes bouncing between mine. “To what?”

To what?

Great fucking question.

What would I want if this were me?

“I don’t know, exactly. You don’t need my help, Ruby. Not with anything. You’re”—I shook my head—“you’re so much better at this than you think.” Carefully, I reached up and grasped her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “But I like you. You’re smartanda smart-ass. You don’t take any shit, and you’re not fake or pretentious or pretendingto be anything. I like spending time with you. Can we ... be friends while I’m here?”

The word tasted like acid on my tongue. A couple of hours earlier, I’d learned what she felt like from the inside when she came, and wanted to tattoo the sounds she made onto my subconscious—but sure ... friends worked too. I could bend my second head into submission if it was the last thing I did.

He’d be pissed. But I’d gotten used to people being pissed at me. My dick could get in line.

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