Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
“This place is beautiful,” I said.
“This is where my dads sat when I gave my first performance here,” Tristan said as he fingered the armrest between us. His eyes shifted to the stage. “I remember looking up here after I was done and they were holding hands and crying. They were too overwhelmed to even clap.” Tristan began fingering the fine wood on the end of the armrest, but I doubted he realized what he was doing because his eyes were still on the stage. “I forget sometimes, you know?” he whispered. “I don’t even have to be on stage. Just sitting in front of a piano will do it. All I hear is the music.”
I watched as Tristan flipped his arm over and stared at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “Forgetting is a dangerous thing,” he said softly.
I couldn’t resist the need to touch him so I ran my thumb over the small plus sign.
“Why is it dangerous?” I asked. Tristan’s skin felt warm and soft beneath my finger.
“Because it makes you want more.”
I glanced up to see Tristan watching me. “More of what?”
“This,” he said as he looked down at where we were joined. “That,” he murmured as he looked at the stage. “Everything.”
I felt him emotionally withdrawing from me so I linked my fingers with his. The move got his attention, but he only looked at me for a moment before dropping his eyes to his lap.
“What happened today, Tristan?”
A tear slipped down Tristan’s cheek. “I thought it was a routine visit…I thought he wanted to talk to me about a new medication or something.”
“Your doctor?” I asked.
Tristan nodded. “I had my regular appointment a couple weeks ago when I got back from New York. My doctor called me this morning and asked me to come in for a follow-up.”
My gut was doing somersaults as I waited for Tristan to continue. I both wanted him to hurry up and to not say another word.
“He…he told me my viral load is no longer undetectable.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means there’s more HIV in my blood now…my immune system isn’t fighting it as well as it used to.” Tristan sucked in a breath and wiped at his face with his free hand. “My doctor drew some more blood to have it retested. He said…he said it could just be a blip, but I won’t know for a week.”
“A blip,” I said in confusion as I fought the stomach acid that threatened. No way could Tristan be…
I shook my head angrily because I refused to go there. It just wasn’t fucking possible.
“A temporary increase which could be caused by a lot of things. The testing process, a temporary change in the concentration of the medication I’m taking…or I could have just had some kind of infection that my body is fighting off.”
“Then that’s probably what it is,” I said firmly, because I refused to believe any different.
Tristan tugged his hand free of mine and dropped it in his lap.
“This is going to kill my dads,” he whispered.
His words angered me and I shifted in my seat so that I was facing him and I snagged him by the neck and dragged him to me. “Knock it the fuck off, Tristan!” I snapped, unable to control the fear that had consumed me. “You’re fine! You’re fucking fine, do you hear me?”
Tristan let out a harsh sob and I automatically pulled him as close to me as I could. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against his ear as I held him. His tears seeped through the fabric of my shirt and I felt his hands fisting in the material. I kept murmuring soft words to him as he cried and when that didn’t work, I placed gentle kisses against his temple, his cheek, his jaw. I wasn’t even aware that Tristan had stilled and lifted his head until my lips were hovering near the corner of his mouth. The sudden shift in the atmosphere had my brain warring with the rest of my body and I forced myself to release my fingers from where they were pressed into Tristan’s skin, holding him to me. Tristan was breathing heavily and I could still feel his hands gripping my shirt. And I knew I was in trouble when I tried to put some space between us and Tristan refused to ease up on the hold he had on me.
“Tristan,” I whispered, though I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to say.
And then I didn’t have to worry about it because it was too late anyway. Because the second Tristan tilted his head just a little and brushed his mouth against mine, I knew I was fucked. I tried to remember why I couldn’t do this as Tristan kissed me softly again, but I couldn’t make sense of anything beyond how soft his lips felt against mine, how sweet even those brief tastes of him were.