Four Week Fiance 2(35)

“So you think of me as your sister?” This time her voice was angry, betrayed, and I swallowed hard.

“Obviously not, Mila. I wouldn’t f*ck my sister.” My words were harsh, harsher than I’d intended, and I was annoyed at myself.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t f*ck her, just everyone else,” Mila said bitterly and looked away from me. I could feel that I was losing her and I was scared. I took a deep breath and reached out a hand to her arm. She flinched and pulled it away from me and I felt like she’d just slapped me in the face.

“Mila, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. All those magical fairy-tale words that you deserve, but I’m no Prince Charming. I’ve never pretended to be.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’m all sorts of messed up, and you know that.”

“It’s fine,” she said softly, looking away. “I don’t care. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m fine.”

I just lay there then, staring at her face as she avoided my eyes. I watched as her lips trembled and she started to play with her hair. I could tell that she was upset. She always fiddled with her hair when she was nervous or upset. I looked back up to her face and I could see that her eyelashes were moving quickly. My throat caught as I realized she was fighting tears. I’d done this to her. I felt overwhelmed and angry with myself. I didn’t want to make her cry. I wanted her to be happy. I needed her to be happy. I was already in too deep. I knew she would end up hating me. I know that the secrets I held would break her. I knew they would break her, but I couldn’t help that.

I closed my eyes for a second and started talking. The words came slowly, since my brain wasn’t functioning properly and I didn’t know what to say.

“I do like you, Mila,” I said into the silence, my eyes still closed. “I might even love you in some way. Some sort of love that grows from the heart like weeds in a garden.”

“What?” she said, her voice timid, and I opened my eyes to look at her.

“My love for you is like weeds growing in a garden,” I said, my voice bleak. “I don’t want to love you, I’m trying everything I can to not love you, but the feeling keeps growing and getting stronger, no matter what I try to do.”

“You don’t want to love me?” She looked confused, her eyes wide, gazing at me with such an innocent expression that I felt a dagger cutting into my heart as I stared back at her. I didn’t know how to explain it to her. I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself.

“I’m not that guy, Mila,” I said, my throat dry. “I don’t want to lose myself in you.”

“I don’t think that could ever happen,” she said, rolling her eyes as she continued to gaze at me. “You’re frigging TJ Walker.”

“TJ Walker, yup that’s me,” I said with a wry smile. “I’m King of the World.”

“You have everything you could want: money, women, looks.” She shrugged. “You’ve got the perfect life.”

“My life is far from perfect and I don’t think I’ve got it all.”

“So what are you, then?” She sighed. “Are you broken?”

“You have to have been whole to be broken,” I said, and Mila’s eyes softened, gazing at me in compassion and, for a few seconds, understanding, as if she finally comprehended where I was coming from.

“Your parents really messed you up, huh?” She reached out and grabbed my hand.

“I guess.” I shrugged. “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I guess a psychiatrist would have been able to tell me what was wrong. Where my fears of love and commitment came from. Maybe they could tell me why as much as my heart beat for Mila, she was the last thing I wanted in my life. I couldn’t even tell her how I really felt. I couldn’t tell her that I loved her as much as I hated her. I couldn’t tell her that with every waking minute that I wanted to be with her, I wanted to forget her. I wanted to vanquish her from my life. How could I tell her that with every moment I loved her, I hated her. I hated her for making me feel like I wasn’t in control. I hated her for being the sunshine in my life on a warm day and the storms in the clouds on a bad one.

I couldn’t tell her because it would kill her. I knew it would kill her because it killed me. It killed me to know that I couldn’t just express the feelings in my heart. I couldn’t just go with the love. Oh how I wished I could go with the love. How I wished the other feelings of insecurity wouldn’t pop up. How different would everything be if I could express the feelings in my soul? How different would it be if I understood the feelings in my soul? My jaw clenched as I realized that that was only one part of the equation, and there was so much more to our relationship now. We were digging ourselves into a deeper and deeper hole. A hole I wasn’t sure we’d ever get out of. A hole that might lead to her never talking to me again. Oh, the pain of thinking that she’d never talk to me again. The pain of not having her in my life. It would kill me. It would turn me into a zombie. A dead person living on the earth, but with no real reason for living.

I couldn’t change our path now, though. Everything was so complicated and f*cked up. How could I start telling her the truth, after having told her so many lies? Would it even matter if I could tell her how much I loved her? What was my love, after all? What was the promise of a million dollars from a beggar? Or the promise of a fortnight of hot sun from an Eskimo? I had nothing to give that would make me worthy of her. Nothing to change our path of mutual destruction. I knew we were both going to be devastated at the end of everything. And it scared me more than I was willing to admit.