Page 173 of Impulse Control
The words were all right there, why couldn’t I say them? I chose Paris because I needed to get away from New York, from Frankie, from my family, from… him.
Now, I was terrified that if I didn’t choose him right now, I might lose him forever. Was that even fair to him? To have him reframe his life around me when I wasn’t willing to do that for him?
Not yet?
Maybe not ever?
“I know, Flash,” he said in this soft voice that was a caress. “I really do. You don’t have to say anything.”
Because that was what I did. I didn’t say anything. I was a damn coward.
A shaky breath escaped me and the tears were burning a path down my face.
“You must choose the one that scares you most. Because that is the only one that is actually yours.”
“I’m sorry,” I managed to push out those words, aware of the snot beginning to drip from my nose. “I really am…” I licked at my lips. “But I’m not ready.”
I swallowed hard.
“You’re right,” I forced the admission out past every single one of my fears. “You shouldn’t wait, because you deserve so much more than to be living your life on pause when I can’t promise that I ever will be.”
When the call ended, the loss felt enormous.
Not empty.
Not full.
Just… enormous.
René’s offer came the next morning.
Not by email.
In person. At my apartment door.
I was so not ready to see him there right after dawn when I’d barely slept and I was still hungover after drinking down two full bottles of wine and working in my dark room most of the night.
Coffees in one hand, and a folder in the other, he climbed the stairs after I’d buzzed him in and grabbed a hair tie to pull back my shockingly bad hair.
When I opened the door to him, he greeted me by saying, “I want to send you to Lisbon. Three months. Documentary project. Full access. Full responsibility.”
My heart stuttered.
“Me?”
“You,” he said, offering me one of the coffees as I stepped back almost weakly to let him in. “Not as anyone’s assistant. As the photographer.”
The room tilted.
“It will not be safe,” René added. “It will not be easy. And you will not have time for distractions.”
I thought of Dominic.
I thought of Kiara.
I thought of Mischa’s table.
“When?” I asked.
