“What did you do?” I repeat.
Zander runs both hands through his hair and looks from me to his dad then back to me. He puts one hand low on his hip and leans against the brick.
“Tell her,” he orders his father. “Tell her how I got so lucky, Dad.”
“I wouldn’t change it,” Governor McBride says hoarsely, looking from me then to Zander. “You’re my son,” he croaks, sounding emotional. “What happened to your husband was a tragedy and a loss for this city, but the circumstances surrounding his death are a mystery to me just like they are to you,” he points his finger at me. “I had a chance to save my son and I made sure he got a heart as quickly as possible. I may have done the wrong thing, but I’d do it again.” He brushes his hands over his cheeks harshly, sniffling away the emotion that has slipped out from beneath his public persona. He takes one more look at Zander and me then goes back into the building.
Chapter Twenty-Two
That Heart
Sadie
The ride back to the hotel is silent. My mind is reeling with what I heard outside and I can tell that Zander’s is going a mile a minute too.
The Lincoln comes to a stop and the driver comes around to let us out. Zander exits first, then holds his hand out for me. I look at it from the edge of the leather seat then up to those sapphire eyes that have so much power over me. His brows furrow slightly, his eyes pleading with me to take his hand, and I find that I can’t refuse him. He’s a victim in this situation too. I’m upset, I think, that he didn’t even try to tell me about his dad buying his position on the transplant list.
I slip my hand into his, watching as his chest visibly deflates with relief. His hand holds onto mine tightly, almost as if he worries that I’ll slip away if he lets go. I don’t like seeing him so unsure, so hurt, but I’m hurt too and I need answers.
He shoves the plastic key card into the lock and it opens on the first try. He holds the door open for me.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that he arranged your transplant? Why?” I demand, turning to pace the floor.
“It isn’t that easy, Sadie.”
“Yeah, I think it could have been. It definitely would have been easier than this shit,” I huff and toss my clutch onto the chair closest to me.
“I’m not brave, okay?” he raises his voice. “Dammit!”
I cross my arms and wait for him to go on.
“I’ve been doing this balancing act since I first started talking to you. Scared to show you the shit that’s in here,” he points his finger at his temple, “and even more scared to tell you what’s going on in here.” He motions toward his chest and it makes me heart ache. “I’m scared that if you know everything about me, if you see the real me, you won’t want anything to do with me. Just like everyone else I know,” he mumbles weakly as he turns towards the panoramic windows and scrubs his hands across his jaw. When he turns again to face me, my heart aches at seeing him so emotional.
If I’m sorrow, he’s torment, and neither of us have much hope or confidence in anything, especially ourselves.
“I’ve been fighting against the ghost of him every goddamned day, Sadie! Every day! It’s more than I can handle. I’m not Jake! I’m no saint. I don’t lead some virtuous life full of good deeds and friends and family who would vouch for me at the drop of a hat. I’m fighting an invisible enemy that I know I have no hopes of defeating, but here I am. I’m begging you for one ounce, one fucking iota, of hope!” Zander is red-faced and looks like he’s on the edge of coming undone. “You think I don’t hate this too? You think I don’t hate that I’m not the most deserving man to get another shot at a life that I’ve already fucked up? You think I don’t feel like shit for having his heart and now falling for his wife? You’d be sorely mistaken. I hate myself for it every time I look in the mirror. Every time I close my eyes and imagine you next to me for the rest of my existence. Every time I have to resist the urge to take your hand, bring it to my lips, and swear on my life that I can make you happy given half the chance. Every time.”
His confession makes my skin tingle with joy and sadness. He’s not Jake and I know that. I know that it’s not his fault. I know that what he feels, what I feel, isn’t something that can be helped. It’s involuntary.
“Zander,” I whisper, my lips and voice quivering. The tattered heart in my chest speeds and sputters.
“Don’t you understand, Sadie?” he murmurs, coming close enough to run his thumb over my cheek. “Whatever this is between us, it’s inescapable. You can deny me if you insist, but that’s one truth that neither one of us can deny.”
“I—I can’t. I have so much to work out. My head is all over the place, Zander,” I whimper tearfully. “I wish I could just snap my fingers and be what you need me to be, what I need me to be but I—I don’t know. I feel so guilty,” I sob.