I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart is pumping adrenaline through my body at a lightning speed. But I can’t stop now.
“I was taken to the hospital, had my stomach pumped. Then they threw me into therapy. After a couple months my therapist realized I had an addiction to love—or what I thought was love. As we went further in she realized my real addiction was to the person. She described it as I get addicted to the thought of love when the opportunity presents itself. Then because of that I get obsessed and eventually addicted to the person behind it all. I get addicted until that person becomes an extension of me. I get obsessive and paranoid and insecure. That’s why I always said I could destroy us both.”
Slowly, Ty brings his hands up and runs his fingers through my hair. He tilts my head back, forcing me to look at him. “You won’t destroy us. I won’t let you. If you break something, I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t pick up my pieces, okay? If we’re going to do this, then I have to deal with it. You can help, but you can’t fix everything all of the time.”
“I promise. Not all the time. But, sometimes, you have to let me. Because that’s how it works.”
“I don’t understand why you’re focusing on the destroying part rather than the suicide attempt part.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I guess because I don’t plan on leaving you, so you’ll have no reason to do that.”
“You don’t know that. What if, in a few months, you decide you can’t deal with my obsessing? What if you can’t deal with my hounding every time we’re apart? What if we have to spend a weekend apart because of work stuff? That’ll drive me to the brink of insanity. The fact that your work stuff will be hanging out with hot models will push me over.”
“I’ll take you with me if I can. Every time. If that will make you feel better, that’s what I’ll do.”
I cover my face with my hands. “That sounded like I don’t trust you. Shit. I do trust you. I do—but I’m not always rational, okay? So if I go a little crazy on you sometimes, just remember I do trust you and humor my bullshit.”
“I humor your bullshit all the time.” He leans in and kisses me. “You just don’t realize because you’re too busy humoring mine.”
That cracks a smile. “Truth.” I run my finger down the center of his stomach. “Do you think you can handle that? My crazy?”
“Babe, just like I knew I could go twenty-four hours without having sex with you, I know I can handle you.” He grins. “And I owe you a bend-over-the-bed fuck. Or rather, you owe me.”
“Well, we kind of have a lot of relationship time for a bend-over-the-bed fuck. Or a table. Or a sofa. Or any other surface you can think of.”
His eyes spark with delight. “I’ll get thinking.” He leans in and nuzzles his nose against mine. “I suppose you want to know about me now, right?”
“Yep. Favorite food, favorite car, favorite football player…”
His lips twitch to one side. “Favorite food is Twinkies, believe it or not. Favorite car is an Audi R8—I miss mine. And my favorite football player is Richard Sherman.”
“You’re a Seahawks fan?”
“Both me and Aaron. Drives our parents nuts.” He grins. “They support the Giants. But anyway. Before you ask, my favorite film is any of the Bond films. My favorite band is Coldplay. My favorite song by them is their newest—Sky Full of Stars.”
“Why?”
“Why is it my favorite song?”
“Yep.”
“Because it reminds me of you.”
I open my mouth then close it again as a flush rises in my cheeks. Tyler watches me with great amusement and goes on.
“My favorite beer is Budweiser, my favorite non-alcoholic drink is fresh orange juice, and my favorite thing to do on a hot day is drink beer.”
My lips form a wide grin. “Okay. I think my need for information is sated. For now.”
“Good. And now I guess we have to get to my gritty stuff, right?”
I nod. “I fessed up. Now it’s your turn.”
“Okay.” He grabs his mug of tea and drinks half of it before setting it back on the table. He settles his arms around me again, linking his fingers on my back, and looks up. “Let’s see… When we were little, Tessa and Aaron were constantly following our parents around. They wanted to know every last bit of the business. My dad tried for about a year to get me interested, but I just didn’t care. I didn’t have the right head for it.
“Then we got older, and while they started internships and work experiences, I started sleeping with girls. Yeah. I was that knobhead.” He laughs. “I studied photography at A-level in college just to make up the number of courses I needed to take and fell in love with it. It was so calm and quiet compared to my rowdy, devil-may-care personality. It was a great contradiction. Soon, I started doing it all the time. I begged Uncle Brandon to let me work in the photography department in the New York office when I was eighteen and he agreed. I guess he was happy I was finally showing some interest.