I don’t know if the day is going by slowly because I’m scared of what will happen tonight with Dax or because I’m nervously anticipating what might happen. Either way, I’m having major regrets already. He’s so...the type of guy women fall all over when he walks by. His looks, his charm, and his desire to be a ladies’ man, win him all the right points, but I’ve never been in a serious relationship. I’ve never fallen in love with someone, and that’s a tradition I don’t intend to break. I won’t make someone hurt like I saw Hunter hurt the day he lost Ellie, and since there are no promises with this heart, as perfect as it is, I won’t take that risk with someone else’s heart.

Disregarding my resolution to avoid hot men who I could totally fall for if I allowed myself, I’m going tonight, and he’s going to be here to pick me up soon.

“Sit still,” Piper groans. “You’re like a Mexican Jumping Bean.” She paints a thin layer of lip gloss over my lips and then pinches my eyelids with one of those stupid lash curlers I have always refused to use, for exactly that reason she just reminded me of.

“Ouch!”

“Beauty is pain, Ari,” she sings.

“No,” I whine. “You just don’t know how to use an eyelash curler on someone else.”

“True statement,” she says, grinning. “Okay, I think you look pretty perfect.”

I stand up in front of the bathroom mirror, which only allows me to see the top half of my body. This is what I get for getting ready at the shop. “I like the dress,” I say, turning from side to side.

“I knew it would fit you better than me. It’s like it was made for you. Perfection!”

I grab my black sweater out of my bag and slip it over my arms before buttoning it up. “There, now it’s perfect.”

“Um, what are you doing?” Piper asks.

“Adding the finishing touches,” I say with a shrug.

“Take the sweater off or unbutton it.”

“No one needs to see what’s underneath,” I remind her.

“A silly scar that holds in your one reason for being alive?” she argues.

“Exactly.” I press my lips into a straight line and offer her a firm smile as I take my clutch from the table.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect, or imperfect. I’m not ready—mentally, that is. The door chimes ring and I already know it’s him. The wind from the door carries in an even stronger scent of cologne than normal, making me feel an unfamiliar sensation that I hope is just nerves. “Anyone home? he calls out.”

I take a deep breath and place my hand over Ellie’s heart to calm it as I walk out to the front room of the shop. Dax is standing in front of the nearest counter with a hand behind his back. He’s dressed in a light gray suit, which plays off of his white dress shirt and perfect tan. I’ve only seen him in his gray-colored work uniform, and I had no idea he would clean up this well. His hair is slicked back in sharp contrast to the messy way he normally wears it. “You like nice,” I say.

His mouth is basically hanging open as he takes me in with his falling gaze. I try to ignore the feeling it causes me because I’m not allowed to care. Instead, I close my eyes to reset myself, but his image has been burned into my mind and I can’t escape him now. “So, excuse me for being corny but I refused to bring you flowers because…well…” He looks around the shop to make a point. “Anyway, I hope you like you chocolate-covered fruit.” Stretching his arm out in front of him, he reveals an expensive-looking box of chocolate dipped fruits and a crooked smile accompanying the gesture. “I know the way to a woman’s heart.” His words lament with sarcasm.

I follow Dax out to his...okay he has a limo tonight. Guess we’re going all out. “Wow. This is extravagant,” I tell him.

He opens the back door for me and I slide in first, careful not to trip over my long dress.

Once we’re closed inside and the limo takes off, Dax slides in closer. “I know you’re about to be mad at me but this was the only way.”

Without knowing what I’m going to be mad about, my posture stiffens with an uncomfortable question. “What are you talking about?”

He releases the top button of his suit jacket and sinks back into the seat a bit as he lets out a loud exhale. “There is no wedding, Ari. The truth is, I’ve somehow managed to fall in love with you over the past couple of years, even just over our meaningless small talk every morning. I feel like I know you, and I want to know you more, which is so out of order for someone who feels the way I feel, but it’s just the way it all happened.”

It’s immediate—the sorrow I feel for him. I wasn’t aware of how strongly he felt about me, but I knew there were serious sparks, ones I carefully avoided. I should be happy and excited to hear the words he’s saying, but anything I did feel for him suddenly slipped away with the one ounce of hope I had to casually have a good time with a great-looking guy. “I know it was wrong to lie and trick you, but you are so damn stubborn,” he groans as if I’m arguing with everything he is saying. “Just tell me why you will never say yes to me?”

I can only see his highlighted features in the glow of the neon blue light illuminating the interior of this limo, and what I see is honesty and a little pain carved into his unsure, emotionless face. “Where are you taking me?” is all I can manage to get out.

“Hartford, a nice restaurant, so I can wine and dine you to prove I’m an okay guy to be around.”

The problem is, the lifestyle of the rich doesn’t faze me. What Dax doesn’t know about me is that I live to make my heart feel things—good things, rather than pain and discontent. That’s what Ellie wanted for her heart. Rightfully so. Though I won’t deny the generosity, I am a little put off by the lie and for the fact that he just admitted those intense feelings to me, which means I don’t have a choice now. I am going to be forced to break a heart. Making sure not to break anyone’s heart has been my one self-made rule, and now I have to break it. How could I not have known how strong his feelings were becoming?

“I can’t let you take me there,” I tell him. The fun I have had waiting for his morning visits every day will probably come to an end. For the amount of times he told me his route was supposed to change, and he begged his company to let him keep my stop, I’m confident he will more than quickly eliminate my shop from his route.

“Why, Ari? Just tell me why. That’s all I want.”

“I’m no one’s future, Dax. Not yours, not any other person’s in this world. The heart in my body was someone’s future once, but now it’s my ticket to the end of the road.” I’m aware I’m making very little sense, but I’m not sure how else to explain myself.

“That makes no sense,” he says. Disappointment slowly settles over him like a cloud, and his posture is now not-so-subtly slouching forward. I had no idea his feelings had grown so deep or I would never have agreed to even a fake date.

“There is a very strong chance I won’t make it another five years,” I begin to explain as I slowly unbutton my sweater, letting the fabric fall off my shoulders as I expose my plunging neckline. Feeling the need to close my eyes and shut him out, I allow him the second it takes to see my past, present, and future. I place my hand over the large vertical scar and pull in a sharp breath against the dull and sad beat of Ellie’s heart. “This is only a loaner, a life extension. It’s not mine.”

“The dress?” he questions with confusion.

“No,” I reply. “The heart beating in my chest.”

“What are you saying?” The tone of his voice tells me we’re now moving on to a saddening hostility. There are stages of acceptance that come along with finding out a person is wilting.

“Many heart recipients go on to have a normal life for a lot of years. Many don’t. I’ve had several small hiccups following my transplant, and each one has lessened my odds of having many normal years left. I’m a ticking time bomb, Dax, and I won’t let you feel the pain I’ve seen as a result of this very heart, even before it was placed into my body.”

“Ari,” he says, breathing heavily without words to follow. “I’m not going to just run away from you because you're sick or because your heart isn’t perfect. I’m not an asshole.”

“Well then, I have to be one right now,” I tell him, swallowing my pride and pain. “Take me back to the shop, please.”

“Ari, you can’t be serious,” he says, pleading.

“Serious as a heart attack,” I say, forcing a small laugh.

“That’s not funny.”

“Dax, you’ll thank me someday.”

“No, I won’t. I’m not giving up,” he says, leaning forward in his seat.

“Yes, you are. I don’t want to ever see you again. I’ll change my delivery options tomorrow and you can eliminate my stop from your route.” The words coming from my mouth feel like rusty nails, scratching against my tongue for every second longer I speak.

“Ari,” he says again.

“Dax, take me back, now.” My words are firm and final because I will not do this. I won’t hurt another human being because of this heart. No way. This is my sacrifice, whether anyone agrees with me or not. I don’t need what others need out of life—what I also want, but I know I don’t need. What I do need is to right wrongs and leave my mark, somehow, some way before I leave this world.

He stares at me for a long moment before he leans forward to the window that separates us from the driver. Dax mutters something to the man and makes his way back to me. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” he says.

I lean forward to match the level of his gaze. “You don’t want to. I watched a man nearly croak right after his wife died. I watched his world literally crumble in a matter of seconds. Seeing that made me never want to do that to a person. Ever. I won’t do that to anyone. Especially you.”

“Why especially me?” he asks quietly.

“Because I really, really like you and I know...I know something amazing could have happened between us if I let it, and I have restrained myself from allowing anything to happen since the day you walked into my flower shop, years ago.” Except, this heart doesn’t belong to me. This heart had been given to a man once and ended up breaking his heart. I refuse to do that to anyone else.

“Really?”

“Yes,” I tell him.

He reaches over, takes my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips. “You know I’d fight you on this.”

“I know, but I’m nicely asking you not to.”

He releases my hand and nods his head with a grief-stricken, subtle movement. “If my heart feels the way it does right now, maybe I wouldn’t survive anything more,” he says.

It hurts to know the pain I unintentionally caused him has always been inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

“Me too.”