What He Left Behind(67)

I can’t breathe. Klein, if you did anything to f*ck with him… “What happened?”

Michael rests his elbow on the table and rubs his forehead. “God, it actually started even before that. The thing is, the whole night, I felt like something was missing. I wasn’t bored, but I wasn’t as into it as I thought I’d be. Like I couldn’t get into it even though I wanted to.” He drops his hand on the table and exhales. “I was on a date with Ben Klein, for God’s sake!”

I stare at him, completely at a loss for words.

Michael leans back against the cushion. “And then as soon as he kissed me, I got it. I figured out what was missing.”

“And that was…”

His eyes meet mine. “You and Ian.”

My heart stops. My mouth has gone dry, but I manage to choke out, “What?”

He flinches, looking out at something across the restaurant instead of at me. His voice is so soft, it’s almost timid as he murmurs, “As soon as he kissed me, all I could think of was the two of you.”

“But you’ve been wanting him for—”

“I know. And when I finally had a shot with him…” He laughs humorlessly. “All I could think of was how much I wanted to be with you and Ian. Because I—” His voice cracks.

I can’t even fit all this in my brain, never mind put my finger on what it means. All I know is the way I felt last night, and how I feel now looking at him. There are some pieces in my head threatening to come together, and I keep trying to push them apart because I have a feeling the big picture isn’t one that’ll help this situation. Even while I’m hurting for him because I know how much he wanted his date to work out, why is there…relief? Guilt? Shame? What the f*ck?

“So, yeah.” Michael groans. “I f*cking blew it. Because I…” He buries his face in both hands. “This must sound incredibly stupid.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Michael lowers his hands and searches my eyes. “Meaning?”

“Meaning…” I love you.

The thought hits me like a fist to the gut.

Oh shit. Oh. Shit.

I can’t. But I do.

Oh God. I do.

Staring at Michael, holding his gaze from across the table while he waits for me to tell him why his feelings aren’t as stupid as he thinks they are, everything I felt last night suddenly makes way too much sense.

Fuck.

I rub the back of my neck. “Maybe things got more complicated than we thought they would. For all of us.”

His eyebrow slowly rises.

So does my pulse.

I scramble to collect my thoughts and explain myself, but there’s no easy way to say it. Knowing he’s got feelings like this too, that doesn’t help the situation, because I don’t know how to tell him I love him in the same breath I need to tell him I’m terrified for my marriage. There are two men in this world who I’d step in front of a bullet for, and I’m scared out of my mind that there’s no way we’re all getting through this without one of them—all of us—getting hurt.

Before I can find the words, Michael puts up his hands. “Look, I think we can both agree this got really complicated, but I need to cut to the chase. Whatever’s going on, I need to put on the brakes. On all of this.”

A weird mix of disappointment and relief and hurt twist in my stomach. Like I’ve been issued a pardon and a kick in the balls at the same time. “Oh.”

He puts his elbows on the table again and steeples his fingers in front of his lips. “I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes and releases a long breath. “The thing is, over the course of five years, Steve convinced me I was trash. And since we started this whole thing, you and Ian haven’t just made me feel like I can have an actual sex life again.” He opens his eyes. “You’ve made me feel like I’m worth loving again.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Why do you think I’ve been in love with you for twenty years? But I can’t say that. It’ll only complicate this conversation, and I’m not so sure I can get the words out anyway. It’s hard enough to convince my mouth to form, “Michael, you are worth loving.”

“Maybe I am. But it’s been a long, long time since I’ve been able to feel anything for anyone. And I’m not sure I trust those feelings.”

I tilt my head. “Trust them? What do you mean?”

He chews his lip for a moment, staring at the table between us. Without lifting his gaze, he says, “Dr. Hamilton told me early on that she’s had problems with patients who’ve fallen in love with her. One of her colleagues has had the same thing happen. They’re not really in love with her, they’re…”

My heart sinks as I realize where he’s going with this. “They’re in love with the person who helped them.”

Michael nods. “She said it’s kind of like the Florence Nightingale effect, but in reverse. The patient falling for the caregiver.”

“Transference?”

“Yeah. That.”

And the sinking feeling gets even worse. Is that what’s happened to me? And Ian, for that matter? Is that all this is?

No. That’s not possible. Not when I’ve had feelings for Michael since we were kids.

Except they’ve never been as intense as they are now. As they’ve been since that first night I joined Michael in his bed.