Fletcher has been hovering around me all night, and I wonder what went on at the office today. He’s now pretending to make a drink and not wanting to go to bed.
“How was Tristan at work today?” I ask.
His haunted eyes meet mine.
What is that look?
“Is something wrong, Fletch?”
He twists his hands in front of him, as if nervous. “Where did Tristan say he was tonight?” he asks quietly.
My stomach drops. “Something came up.” My eyes search his. “Do you know where he is tonight?”
He nods, but he stays silent.
“You can tell me, baby. Nothing bad is going to happen. Tristan and I are adults.”
He tentatively sits down beside me at the counter. “His mother came to see him.”
I frown.
“I shouldn’t have, but I listened at the door.”
“Why?”
“Because last time she was there, I heard her warning Tristan that he wouldn’t have his own children if he stayed with you.”
My heart drops. “What did Tristan say to that?”
“He said he knew, but he wanted you more.”
I get a lump in my throat, overwhelmed that he would make that sacrifice to be with me. “What did she say today?”
“She said that Tristan only wants things that he can fix.”
I frown.
“She said that it’s part of his personality, that he’s drawn to people who need him.”
He is—I already know that.
He drops his head and frowns, as if not wanting to elaborate.
“Go on, baby.” I smile. “It’s okay.”
“She said that she thinks Tristan is still in love with his ex-girlfriend and that he only left her because she didn’t need to be fixed.”
My heart drops. I know which ex-girlfriend she’s talking about. He’s talked about her often.
“She thinks that Tristan is only with you because we are all so damaged, and he wants to help us.”
Ouch . . .
My eyes fill with tears, and I blink to try to get rid of them before Fletcher sees.
We stare at each other for a moment.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
“He went to see Mary. He went to see if he still loves her.”
I sit in the dark on the front porch in the seat swing and rock gently back and forth.
It’s 12:40 a.m. I can’t sleep. How could I?
It’s quiet and still; only the creak of the chair can be heard.
Elizabeth is right.
In my heart of hearts, I know she’s right.
Tristan isn’t a soul sucker . . . he’s a savior.
An angel in a perfect suit, he hides behind his asshole title.
He’s a good man who takes no credit.
I rock back and forth as I think. He came in here like a white knight, against all odds, and even though he knew we weren’t right for each other, he saw how damaged I was, and so he fought for us. He fought to save me.
He thawed me from my frozen state.
I get a vision of him and Harry at Wade’s grave yesterday, and my heart breaks.
My boys are going to lose another man they admire and care about.
I screw up my face in tears. I really loved him.
It hurts to know why he loved me.
The tears roll down my face as I try to wrap my head around dealing with another loss.
He loved Mary, and he left her because he felt he had to.
I don’t want that for him.
I want him to be happy and live his life with his true love. He deserves that.
We all deserve that.
I wipe my eyes and take out my phone, and I call his number. It goes to voice mail.
I frown as I prepare to push the words past my lips. “Hi, Tris.” I smile sadly. “It’s me.” I pause as I try to get the wording right. “I hope everything went well with you and Mary tonight.” My face crumples. “I just want you to know that I understand and . . .” I drop my head. “And . . . thank you.” I screw up my face. “Thank you for trying with us. I appreciate it more than you know . . . but I’m letting you go.” I wipe the tears as they roll down my face. “I want you to be with her. Your mother is right.” I smile sadly. “She’s the one you really love.”
“No, she’s not.” The voice comes from behind me.
I turn to see Tristan standing behind me on the grass.
He puts his hands on his hips, indignant. “What fucking bullshit are you going on with, woman?” He frowns.