I don’t have to—she gets it

My eyes widen in alarm. Heather gives me an odd smile. “Don’t worry,” she says quietly. “I realized after a while that I was wrong to ask that of her. No matter how much I wanted to be the one to tell you myself that I love you, if I wanted her to keep you from dating anyone else, how else was she supposed to do it? She couldn’t do it by dating you herself, she was honest about that; she said she could too easily fall for you, and if she didn’t, it would mean she was dating you under false pretenses. So what other option did she have? I didn’t really like it, but there are other things I don’t like about this situation, and they’re all my fault, so what right do I have to blame anyone else?

“But please know, everything Alyssa told you is completely true. I really have been in love with you for years, and she knew it, but I wouldn’t listen to her—or to myself. I liked sex too much, and I didn’t think you could satisfy me. I really liked you, but I lusted after the boys I thought would give me a good fucking. Some of them did, some of them really didn’t. I knew my boyfriends just wanted my body, but that’s all I wanted from them, too. Eventually, the sex always palled, and I moved on to the next one. Through it all, I kept talking about you, and Alyssa kept telling me I should ask you out—she said you really liked me, too, but you would never be able to ask me out, the way I was going—and I always thought about it, and always decided I really wanted to hook up with someone else.

“And then we went off to college, and I realized I missed you. You weren’t there, for the first time in my life—I know that wasn’t really true, but that’s how it felt—and I felt lonely. I started to think I’d been making a mistake all along. So I talked to Alyssa, and I could tell there was something she wasn’t telling me; so I pushed, and she gave me the whole story. She told me about your proposition, and your partnership—and then, she couldn’t help herself, she started raving about you. About your hands and your tongue, how well you eat pussy . . . she even said you have a really big cock, though you were still a virgin at that point. She sounded so satisfied, even smug, and—no matter how unfair it was, I felt jealous. I had no right . . .

“That could have been me—could have been us—but I was dating other guys instead. I felt like Anne when she hears Gilbert is dying of pneumonia, like I realized I’d always loved you only when I’d lost you forever. And I’d turned away from you for a reason that wasn’t even true! None of my boyfriends ever satisfied me the way you satisfied her; none of them ate my pussy half that well because even the ones who would do it didn’t want to, and it sounds like you even have a bigger cock than most of them, too. I never asked you out because I wanted the best sex I could get, when the best sex I could ever have had would have been with you. You were everything I wanted, and I never found out because I never asked.

“Fortunately for me, Alyssa is smarter than my stupid. She knew me better than I did, and she knew she was hurting me and making me jealous—she just couldn’t help herself. She got herself under control and apologized, and told me she’d been careful not to let your relationship get beyond your business and friendship. She told me pointedly that I had no right to complain if she decided to you, or anyone else did, and I had to agree; but she said I was the only reason she hadn’t asked you to be her boyfriend. She also told me that you hadn’t started dating any of your clients, and promised to let me know if that changed.

“Then she told me you were dating that slut bitch, and I felt my heart shatter. Alyssa only told me a few weeks after you started dating; I could have cheerfully killed her when she finally admitted that, but it meant I only had nine days of misery before she told me you’d dumped that slattern for cheating on you. She said she didn’t think the relationship would last, and she’d hoped never to have to tell me about it at all.” Interesting—Alyssa didn’t say that to me . . . “I guess she wasn’t far off.

“So, Andrew—I’d had thoughts about doing something cutesy—we’re doing a bachelorette party for Whitney during break—but I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk waiting, couldn’t risk losing you again. I know Alyssa already told you, but I couldn’t wait to see you and tell you that—I love you, and I always have, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, and I want to be with you. I’m sorry I fucked so many other boys instead of you; from now on, Andrew, I just want you. Will you be mine?”

I can’t say no to this woman. Even if I wanted to—and I don’t—I couldn’t. So how do I play this?