Carlos shrugs. “Which is why Matteo wants no part in digging any deeper.”
“I don’t blame him. He has enough on his plate.” I look back at him. “You’re amazing.”
And I am falling so fast for you.
“And you look exhausted.”
The emotions I have been so proud of myself for keeping at bay—okay, yes, that’s with maybe some help from the anti anxiety meds, exhaustion from the flight, and the fact that part of me, a very big part of me, feels numb, like the static was replaced with an internal pause—win out, and my voice cracks. “How are you not?”
“I am.”
I push back in my chair, stand up, and look around. “You should rest. Where do you sleep when you’re here?”
Carlos chuckles. “Matteo Arias hasn’t slept in one of his studio lofts in years.”
Matteo shrugs. “I like to be comfortable and breathe fume-less air.”
“Then you will. You will for the rest of your very, very, very long life.” I hold out my hand. “Come sleep with me.”
“I would love nothing more, but I have a few things to do.” He takes my hand and rubs his lips across the back of it.
I watch as he looks at the table, at the NDA with Gabrielle’s name on it, and my anxiety worsens. “You can’t marry her.”
“Tris, I—”
“She said her or me and you told her me,” I said sternly.
“It’s a business partnership. And—”
“Carlos, will you excuse us for a moment?” Matteo asks as he stands.
My heart is beating like a wild animal inside of my chest, and I no longer feel numb.
“Of course.” Carlos stands, gathers his things, places them inside his briefcase, and leaves.
When I hear the door shut, Matteo takes my other hand.
“You are so very sweet, Tris.”
“I’m not sweet! I’m a mess—”
“No, Tris, you are everything you are supposed to be, and your journey has made you become stronger than you ever should have had to be. You are so strong, your heart can beat twice for each single beat of mine. I will remain your friend, but I will not drag you down with me.”
“I didn’t ask permission!” I’m losing it. God help me, these pills are not strong enough to stop this … pain.
“I can’t break your heart. I won’t. If I broke your heart, I’d surely go to hell.”
“Then heal it. Then heal my heart, and I will be yours until”—sniff—“until … until—”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I can’t just be your friend, Matteo. When my sister told me you asked my father to take me on a date, I knew, I knew I wasn’t the only one who was sure there was more.”
“Tris,” comes from behind me, and I cringe.
Wiping away tears, I continue looking into Matteo’s eyes. “Go away, Patrick. I’ll be back to the hotel when I’m finished.”
Matteo wipes a tear. “Go. We’ll speak again—”
“Marry. Me. Not her.”
“Tris, what the hell are you doing?” Patrick is clearly shocked.
Still looking up at Matteo, I see something change. I feel it, too. He’s distancing himself.
“Please go with Patrick. Sleep, rest, and—”
“I have a concert in two days, Matteo Arias.”
“Then after the show.”
A strangled sob threatens to escape me, but I hold it back. “I need you to admit you’re falling for me, just as I am for you.”
“Beautiful Tris, please, I—”
“Tris, do not beg this asshole—”
“Do not talk about him like that! You have no idea what he means to me, what I mean to him.”
“Tris, don’t do this,” Matteo whispers.
I sniff and find the strength inside of me that I didn’t think I possessed, and I step back. “It’s all or nothing, Matteo. All or nothing.”
“You know that—”
“I’m asking you for every beat.”
“Love you, Tris, but this is fucked up. Let’s go, or I’ll have to call your parents.” Patrick is right behind me now.
“Every one of them,” I tell Matteo then turn and look at Patrick.
“I’m ready now, and I love you, too, but this, Matteo and me, is not your business.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Patrick says, grabbing my hand. “I will not allow you to beg a man to be in your life. You deserve so much more than that.”
Uncomfortably Numb
Tris
Something Marley and I discussed is my ability to walk away and not run away. Walking away is what I am doing now, and I’m doing so while my heart is breaking in a way that no hearts should break.
Hold it together, I would tell myself repeatedly, hoping to continue keeping my monsters at bay.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Tris?” He’s not even trying to hide the frustration in his tone with me anymore.
Can’t blame him. I have pushed him away with my “issues,” just like I have almost everyone else.
“I’m falling in love,” I state. Yes, state, because it is a fact.
“You just got your heart kicked in; you’re not ready,” He grabs my elbow to make me stop and turns me around. “I get you’re hurting, totally get that, but you just asked a man to marry you, Tris. A man who you just met. A man who can’t even speak—”
“The heart wants”—I choke back the sob threatening to burst inside of me at the mere word heart then clear my throat—“what the heart wants.”
“You have to stop doing this to yourself. You have to stop letting these fuckers hurt you. Jesus, Tris, you—”
“We all deal with things differently.” I gently pull my elbow back and continue walking toward … the hotel … I hope.
“He’s not coming after you, Tris. He’s not! And you should be thanking God because—”
Walking faster now, I throw my hands in the air and yell behind me, “If you love someone, set them free. If they don’t come back, blah, blah, blah.”
“Dammit, Tris, listen to me.” He moves in front of me and grabs my shoulders. “I have tried to let you carve your own path. I have tried to stay out of it with Marc. He took part of you away from us, from you. I won’t let this asshole—”
“Don’t do that, don’t draw that line, Patrick. Don’t, because he is what I want, what I need.”
“You don’t know that yet, Tris. You’re young. Hell, we’re young.”
“You’re still hurting, and—”
“No shit. But you don’t see me jumping into another relationship.”
I grab hold of his forearms, like he is my shoulders. “But you jump into bed with pretty much anyo—”
“Sex is sex. It’s not love, Tris.”
We let go of each other at the same time.
“It’s different for girls.”
“Not all girls,” he says with a hint of bitterness.