John took a deep breath he hoped didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. He still held the heel of one hand over his breastbone, trying to keep his heart where it belonged, in his own chest. “Mary, I just want to be clear here. I should never have said—”

She held up a hand, stopping him. She’d never done that before. It was a forceful gesture that belied the seemingly easy smile on her face. “Let’s not talk about that. Yeah. It’s been a rough week and a half. And my brain is fried from all the paperwork and the conversation. Let’s just not rehash the night we met. Okay?”

He closed his mouth, opened it, let his eyes slide from her face to the hand she still held up. That hand was certain, steady and telling him in no uncertain terms that what was done was done. Of course it was. How many chances did John expect to get with the world’s most lovely creature? He’d had it, and he’d blown it. And now all he could do was staple his chest closed and keep his heart in its home. All he could do was try not to hurt her again.

He nodded and cleared his throat. “All right.”

She dropped her hand. “I think I’m done with paperwork for the night. I was thinking of watching a movie,” she said brightly. “You’re welcome to stay if you want.”

“No,” he said gently as he shook his head. “No, I should go.” Always he was telling her no when he just wanted to say yes, yes, yes. But just as when she’d invited him to stay and have dinner with Tyler and Fin last weekend, he’d known that it was time for him to go home and remember who he really was. What his life really was. To refamiliarize himself with the constraints on his actual world. So much of the time he spent with Mary had a Technicolor, dreamlike quality to it. It wasn’t good to stay there too long. It made his real life seem too drab and harsh by comparison.

He wanted nothing more than to sit next to Mary and watch a movie on her couch. Which was why he dragged himself up, said a quick goodbye and hauled his ass back to Bed-Stuy. An hour later, his hair wet from the shower and Ruth on his lap, John finally let out a deep breath, the one he hadn’t quite been able to catch sitting at her kitchen table with her. And it was then, in the safety of his own solitude, that he let his chest fully crack open. That he let himself feel it. Truly feel it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN