Chapter 4

“I just want everything to go exactly right.” Harris sat up and looked around at his home. Every item in here had been handpicked to fit a certain persona. Those Guerlain flasks he’d purchased through the years spoke of his passion for perfume. Every piece of furniture he’d carefully chosen was meant to show off his appreciation of beauty. Every artwork, vase, rug—all these items he loved—said something about him. But he realized they all said the same thing.

Love me

“Do you think I’m an asshole?” he asked. “That I lack empathy? That I’m materialistic?”

Reshone brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. “Stop it, Harris. We talked about this. You have a borderline personality disorder, okay, but behind all that, there’s you. A sweet and really smart guy I wish you’d let people see.”

That felt so good to hear. He’d accepted his diagnostic last year, but it was still hard to live with the idea. That was why he’d stopped seeing his therapist.