Jonas heaved off the couch and sat on the arm of Warren’s chair, breaching the invisible shield that had always been in place, even between friends. It should have been weird. Warren had always maintained that distance. When they went to a bar with bench seats at the table, Jonas and Hendrix shared and Warren sat by himself. As he should. Marcus had been his roommate and the empty seat next to him served as a constant reminder.
But it was nice, to have his remaining friends here at a time when difficult memories were his constant companions.
“Will it surprise you to learn that I talked to him, too?” Jonas asked. “I called his mom twice. There were a lot of people concerned about him, and all of us did what we thought was best. But in the end, the blame has to lie with Marcus. He made that decision, not you.”
Intellectually, Warren knew that. But his gut was where things didn’t feel right. “How can I go on and be happy when Marcus doesn’t get that opportunity? It’s not fair.”
Hendrix sat forward on the edge of the couch. “What, like you have to punish yourself for the rest of your life for someone else’s choices? Trust me when I say you’ll end up miserable if you do that. You deserve to have whatever relationships you’re willing to work for in life. It’s that simple. This is about you, not Marcus.”
Warren shook his head. “I’m not good with people. I screwed up with Tilda. She left because I can’t be what she needs.”
“I thought she left because of her immigration status,” Hendrix said blithely. “Do tell.”
Walked into that one. “I fell for her, okay? Happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Jonas made a noise in his throat. “Yeah, but only because you needed to hear it, too. You let her walk away because you’re scared to be happy, not because you’re not good with people. That’s an excuse that won’t fly here. You don’t have to be good with people. Just Tilda. Are you good with her?”
So good.
And he’d let her go.
It was killing him slowly and would only get worse. “Doesn’t matter. She only cares about the project. That was the last thing she said to me. Send me the divorce papers and don’t worry about your market share.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you jumped right on that and told her that market share meant nothing to you,” Hendrix said sarcastically. “What a complete and utter shock that any woman who’s spent more than five minutes in your company could possibly be confused about your feelings for her versus Flying Squirrel.”
“You don’t have to be an ass about it,” Warren muttered.
The point wasn’t lost on him. Tilda’s parting words had been a far more painful variation of Why don’t you marry your company? Every woman in his life had butted up against his workaholic tendencies. Tilda didn’t have any special shield against it just because she was as enthusiastic about work as he was.
“Seems like that’s the only way to get through your thick skull,” Hendrix said. “And while we’re on the subject, here’s what you’re going to do. Get on a plane, go to Australia and tell Tilda you’re in love with her. If she says it back, then you can spend the rest of your life figuring out how to feel like you deserve it. If you don’t get on a plane, you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting that you didn’t. It’s really not that hard.”
“I can’t do that.” Oh, he wanted to. His heart rate tripled as he envisioned doing exactly that. But he couldn’t. What if he forgot about her triggers and grabbed her again? He might destroy her the same way he had…Marcus.
No. That wasn’t his fault. Greedily, he clung to that absolution from his friends.
Except it wasn’t sticking. He’d messed up with Tilda, too. Clearly, he wasn’t good at this kind of thing.
Groaning, he put his head into his hands. Either he believed the things his friends were telling him or he didn’t. Getting past this was as much his decision as it had been Marcus’s to take his own life, and all at once, Warren didn’t want to take on the responsibility for other peoples’ choices. Just his own.
And he was choosing happiness.
No, he hadn’t bothered to try with Tilda. He’d just sent her back to Australia to protect himself from further screwups. But what if they could work through her triggers? If she even wanted that. How would he know her mind unless he talked to her? It didn’t have to be hard. Like Hendrix had said.
He’d made a mistake in letting her go. The biggest one of his life. And that was a turning point, as well, considering that, for the longest time, he’d have said failing Marcus was his biggest mistake. No longer. He could fix this mistake.