“I’m not the perfect man, Harriet. I’m so far from the perfect man.”
She stared at him, bemused. Was that what he thought? That she’d fallen in love with some false image of him? “I know you’re not perfect. How could you be? There is no such thing as perfect. Strengths and weaknesses are as much a part of being human as the bones, blood and muscle you deal with every day. And here’s the thing—I don’t want perfect, Ethan.” Oh what the hey, she might as well say it one more time. What did she have to lose that she hadn’t already lost? “I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought you were perfect. I fell in love with you for a million other reasons.”
He looked pale and tired. “I like you, Harriet. I like you a lot. I care about you.”
All good words, but not the one word she needed.
“I know. You don’t have to explain.”
“Everything has happened so fast—”
“Yes.” She was surprised by how calm she felt. “Yes, it has.”
“When we get back to New York we should spend more time together, and—”
“No.” The word came out sharper than she intended, maybe because she was panicking. Spend more time together? Not in this lifetime. “Once we’re back in Manhattan, we won’t see each other again.”
He looked bemused. “But you said—”
“I said that I love you, and I do. But you don’t love me, and I’m not going to be one of those people who stays around in the hope it will happen, losing a little part of myself every day. I won’t fight for your love, Ethan. I did that once before with my father, and I’m never doing it again. If someone can’t love me the way I am, then it’s not enough for me.”
“Wait a minute—” He looked shocked. “You’re ending it? That isn’t what I want. I still want to see you—”
“That isn’t going to work for me. If there is one thing living with my father taught me, it’s that expecting someone to love you back just because you love them, is a shortcut to misery. It took me a long time to accept that my father didn’t love me, and never would. A long time to stop trying to force myself into being a person I thought he might like more. These past weeks, with you, I’ve been me for the first time in my life. And I want t
o carry on being me. If we carry on seeing each other I’ll be twisting myself into knots trying to get you to love me. And you’ll be feeling guilty that you don’t, and anything that develops from there will be shaky and unreliable. I can’t do that to either of us.”
“Harriet—”
“It’s okay.” She managed a smile. “Really. You can’t choose who you love, but you can choose to be honest about it. You’ve been honest and I appreciate that. But I hope you understand when I tell you I can’t see you anymore. I’d start to want things. Hope for things. And don’t think for one moment that I regret any of this, because I don’t. I’ve learned a lot over the past few weeks. You taught me how to be more relaxed on a date. Being with you has boosted my confidence. Being with you has taught me I have so many more resources at my disposal than I thought I had.”
“Because I made you nervous. I made you stammer.”
“And because of that I learned that stammering wasn’t the end of the world. Life carries on.” And her life would carry on. And at some point, hopefully, her heart would stop feeling as if it had shattered into pieces, each one inscribed with Ethan’s name.
Knowing what she had to do, she picked up her case and walked to the door, her heart aching and her legs shaking, and realized that of all the challenges she’d set herself over the past few months, nothing came close to this one.
She was walking away from love.
That, she thought, was the biggest challenge of all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SHE ARRIVED BACK at her apartment to find the door ajar.
Great.
She’d been looking forward to a good session of wallowing in her own misery and now she had an intruder to deal with.
Misery turned to anger. This was her home. Her home. Someone else didn’t get to break into it and take her things. That wasn’t right.
Dragging a bottle of perfume out of her bag, she kicked open the door.
“If you’re planning on taking something that doesn’t belong to you, you picked the wrong day and the wrong woman.”
Fliss flew off the sofa and Harriet stared at her sister, the perfume in her hand.
“What are you doing here?”