But when I look into his eyes, I can tell it’s something big.
“I don’t want this to end,” he says.
Neither do I! Neither do I!
“I like you a lot, Courtney. When I first came up to you in the coffee shop, you were savoring your gingerbread latte...” He scrubs a hand over his face, and I realize he’s nervous. It’s not like him, and it melts my heart, which is bouncing around in my chest like mad. “I wanted to pay you five thousand dollars to teach me to enjoy life, and I suggested we could have a fling, too.” He chuckles. “It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But now that I’ve gotten to know you, I want more than a fling.”
I can’t contain my goofy smile.
“I told you I didn’t do relationships anymore,” he says. “I suck at them because I’m at the office all the time. However, you make me want to try again, and after the last two weeks, I think I’ve changed. I’ll be less of a workaholic come Monday morning, and I’ll spend as much time with you as I can.”
It’s everything I could ask for.
“Yes,” I say. “I don’t want this to end, either.”
He grins. “I’ll still give you the money, of course. What are you going to do with it?”
“Give it to Naomi. It was perfect timing, actually. She’d just told me she couldn’t afford the trip to New York we’d planned, and later that day, you showed up and offered me your ridiculous deal. So now we can go on the trip, and she can have a little extra money...and I can have you.”
Julian proceeds to kiss me very, very thoroughly, then offers to solve any financial problems I might have in the future.
* * *
Ishould be happy,but when we’re on the plane back to Toronto, I feel a prickle of doubt.
My depression is returning. Every five years.
It’s hard to imagine that my life will get so terrible so soon, when things have been pretty good recently, aside from the occasional meltdown. But my depression is inevitable, like the changing seasons. Even Julian, as powerful as he is, won’t be able to stop it, and I can’t imagine he’ll want to be with me when he sees what it’s really like. I won’t be Fun Courtney who squeals in delight over fancy pastries. I assume a lot of the reason he likes me is because of the joy I take in the world around me, but when I’m depressed, that becomes impossible. Sure, he was lovely to me when I had my “depression attack” a few days ago, but once that becomes a constant state for me, it’ll be different.
Dane couldn’t handle it, and we’d already been together for a while at that point. I can’t imagine Julian will enjoy it when his new girlfriend becomes a dark cloud of messed-up thoughts who can barely make it out of bed—and not because she wants to have sex all the time.
That’s another thing. Depression kills my libido.
I feel more than a prickle of doubt now; I’m being smacked in the face with it.
How can this possibly work?
I’ll go out with him for a little while, and then he’ll dump me and break my heart, and it will be just like ten years ago. I’ll have to go on leave from my job and I’ll stop sleeping and I’ll be such a bother to Naomi but she’ll do it because she loves me, and...
Julian places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”
“I’m fine.”
I must not sound very convincing.
“What is it?” he asks, rubbing circles on my shoulder with his thumb.
He’s a sweet man. You wouldn’t think the CEO of an investment company would be sweet, but he is.
I swallow. “My depression. I told you how I have a severe episode every five years, right? It’ll start soon. It always starts in the fall. I’ll become difficult to be around, and you won’t want to be with me anymore. Like my ex.”
“Not true. I’ll want to be with you no matter what. I care for you, and I will be there.”
He says it with such conviction. I offer him a small smile, but I’m not convinced. I’m not the sort of girlfriend a man like Julian should have. He needs someone who’s less of a mess. Someone who will look stunning on his arm at charity galas and always know the right thing to say.
Even if I’m able to have a boyfriend, he’s probably not the type of boyfriend I should have, either. He’s always busy. He says he’s different now, but maybe that just means he’ll work thirteen-hour days instead of fourteen. Could he really be supportive when he’s working his ass off?
I have doubts. I have so many doubts. But I shove them aside.
