Bollocks. Why am I such an unmitigated disaster? Telling her it isn’t meant to be is cruel, narcissistic. It’s a manipulative, bullshit thing to say, and I know perfectly well that I’ve hurt her with it. She’s no fool. And she’s worth so much more than my weak attempts to push her away from my heart.

I’m a damned coward, despite my claims to the contrary. She was right about that. I’m scared of what love might do to a man like me.

I drop a hundred euros on the table and dash after her. She’s already made her way up the stairs from river to street level, and is crossing back into the fifth arrondissement. So like an idiot I chase her, darting through oncoming traffic to make my way closer. When I’ve reached her she’s turning onto a narrow street not wide enough for cars. She’s already a Parisian; she already knows the shortcuts and escape routes away from awful, stupid men.

I grab her arm and twist her around, desperate to explain myself. Tears are rimming her eyes, reminding me of what an utter shite I am.

“Adriana,” I say. “Forgive me, please.”

“For what? Being honest? You just said it; it’s not meant to be between us. You know, I was about to say that I’m willing to put myself at risk and see where things went with us, because I like you, Conlon. I like you a lot, even if it’s foolish of me. And I thought, for some stupid reason, that you liked me too. I just wish you’d stop teasing me with whatever this is,” she chokes, flapping her hand between her chest and mine. “Stop acting so attracted to me, telling me you were falling for me, then pushing me away. I’m not your toy. It’s fucking cruel to play with my emotions like that. I didn’t come to Paris to meet someone, you know. I came here to prove to myself that I didn’t need a man in my life. I came here because I wanted to find out that I’m strong. But you make me feel weak. Over and over again, and it’s not fair. I don’t need this act of yours, or whatever it is.”

“No, you’re right; it’s not. But you should know that there’s no act, Adriana,” I tell her. “I am so attracted to you that it’s not even funny.”

“No, it’s not funny in the least,” she replies. “It’s also not funny to be told that you felt something for me, but you turned it off like a fucking light switch. Either you feel it or you don’t; the human heart doesn’t work like a lamp.”

“Of course it doesn’t. It’s just—” I press my shoulder to the wall, crossing my arms, “mine burnt out a long time ago, and I’ve never quite figured out how to get it working again.”

“Okay, so you admit it.” She’s ready to yell at me now, I can tell. I almost want her to let me have it, to tell me I’m a total arse and to slap some sense into me. But she’s too damned kind. “You admit that you’re cold and withdrawn. That’s fine, Conlon. But you know what? I don’t need or want to waste time on someone who admits that he’s fucked up. Someone who makes me feel like he’s into me, but turns around and lets me know in no uncertain terms that he could never properly give a crap about me or anyone. I don’t want to be hurt by a man who admits his heart may as well not even exist.”

“You really think that’s how things are?” I ask, pulling myself straight and stepping towards her. I want to grab her, to kiss some sense into her. To show her exactly how intense my feelings are. “You really believe that I don’t feel anything for you?”

“I believe your dick is excited by me; it’s the only truly honest part of you. The rest of you seems to think I’m nothing more than a toy to taunt with hints that something more could happen, but probably won’t because, you know, commitment and feelings and mature human emotion. Come on, we both know it’s the truth. We both know that anything real between us would be impossible, even if I were staying here more than a couple of weeks.” She presses her back to the stone wall of the building behind her as a couple of tourists make their way past us, raising their eyebrows curiously. A genuine romance gone horribly wrong. They couldn’t ask for a more Parisian drama.

“Adriana, it’s only impossible because I’m making it impossible,” I tell her. Fuck, Galen’s right about me, about my feelings. “The God’s honest truth is that I’m frightened of what it might mean to grow close to you.” I back off, pulling away to look her straight in the eye. I’m ready to show her my vulnerable side, because this may be the only chance I ever get. After tonight I may not see her again. “I’ve never met a woman like you. I don’t know how to be around you.”

“I’ve never met a man like you, either. But I was still willing to take a chance on you, despite the risks. I would have done it. I would have tried.”

“I don’t know what to say. I want you, but I don’t want to mislead you. I like you far too much for that.”

“Mislead me? Like, by making me think you could give a flying fuck about me? By telling me you could have fallen for me?” She makes a huffing sound like she’s had enough, then turns and starts to walk away. No doubt she’s thinking that I’m the hugest arse who’s ever lived. Well, one thing is certain: I’m terrible at this opening-my-heart thing. I follow her, trying hard to sort through the next words carefully before I unleash them.

“I could fall in love with you so easily that it terrifies me.”

I have never said anything like that to a woman. Never. She has no idea how hard it was to admit that she could have my heart. That she could have the power over me, reduce me to a quivering mess. I never knew that love could feel like such a weakness and such a strength, all at once.

She stops, freezing in place. I watch her hands ball into fists then release at her sides. Slowly she turns and looks at me, her beautiful eyes shimmering under the street lamps.

“I could fall in love with you, too,” she says. “But I’m not going to let myself, Conlon. Because you’d never let me.”