Page 143 of The Kiss Of Death
“No, I imposed it on her.”
He gestured toward the couch, his son eagerly bounding to his now functioning computer. “And how did she react?”
I settled back on the couch while he took a seat on the sofa in front.
I hooked an ankle over my knee, resuming my tale. “She told me it’s not how relationships work. So I invited her on a date, and then she kinda introduced me as her boyfriend to this guy’s father who wanted to set her up with his son.”
Mr. Henry coughed, another grimace plastered on his face. “You’ll have to start from the beginning.”
For the next hour, I told him everything that had happened with Dalia in detail. Details, I imagined, he wished he’d never asked for.
“You’re silent. Aren’t you supposed to talk about how much of a screwup I am?” I quipped, breaking the silence that followed my sad little story.
“I think you learned a lot from your mistakes.” I couldn’t read his face; he didn’t betray one inch of emotion.“It’s the first time you’ve experienced such an intense feeling and desire to get to know someone. You changed your habits and prioritized someone’s needs above your own. You’re healing. But it seems that your overprotective and controlling tendencies got in the way of your relationship.”
I rolled my eyes, slumping into the couch. “No shit.”
“No shit!” the boy echoed, engrossed in playingCall of Dutyon his resurrected computer while Mr. Henry closed his eyes in exasperation.
“I can’t tell you if she’ll forgive you. It’s up to her, but Dalia gave you a chance once.”
“A chance I fucked up.”
“And how do you feel now that your revenge is done?”
“Like…” I glanced at the kid, destroying his enemies on the battlefield. “A pathetic loser.”
“Do you want what’s best for her?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Even if you’re not what’s best for her?”
I let out a thin laugh, my finger tapping on my hand in agitation. “What kind of question is that?” My finger tapped faster, my jaw clenching. “Dalia is mine. She’s what I need. I can’t see her with another man, it’s killing me.”
“You’re losing control,” Mr. Henry calmly said, gesturing to me to breathe deep.
Four years ago, I would have stormed out of his office and told him to go to hell, but now I reclined on the sofa, craning my neck up, and I begrudgingly followed his advice, inhaling deeply.
Point taken.
“Yes,” I conceded through clenched teeth. “Even if it’s not with me, I want her to be happy.”
“I’m proud of you.” I could hear him smiling.
“Well, don’t be too satisfied,” I retorted, fixing him with a steely gaze and tightening my grip on my hand. “If anyone hurts her, I’ll still kill that bastard, even if she still doesn’t want to be with me. And I don’t care if you think I’m not enough for her, that I should just give up. Because I can’t give up, doc. I want to fight.”
“I never said you should give up.” He lifted a brow, an amused smile curling on his lips. “You like to fix the machines, just like your mother with her musical instruments. It’s a family trait. Why is it satisfying for you?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. I have control over it. I can communicate with the machine better than with humans, and it makes me feel…”Not powerless.
He hummed. “Sometimes it’s easier to fix something else than fixing what is broken inside you.”
“Dalia sewed me back up,” I defended. “She repaired me.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That I can’t force someone to love me.”
