Sarah swung by on her way to the baby changing table and leaned down to murmur in my ear, “He’s good.”
I nodded.
Everything was going well, and I was pleased that I could confidently tell Josie that Vincent would be a great addition to the team.
A sob suddenly formed in my throat out of nowhere. And a rush of emotion sent water welling in my eyes.
No. No, no, no. I’d promised myself this morning that I wasn’t going to bring last night to work. I couldn’t think about it here. I’d been actively pushing it out of my brain all morning, and succeeding, but I’d let my guard down, watching Vincent with the kids.
I’d stopped fighting it for one moment, and that was all the trauma needed to worm its way through my defenses.
I fought to swallow it down, but it was a losing battle.
Vincent’s head snapped up from the middle of his game, his gaze instantly attentive to me. He glanced at Sarah, busy with the babies, and then at his little posse of four-year-olds.
I sucked in a wobbly breath and stood quickly, excusing myself and scurrying for the safety of the office where I could fall apart for a second.
I closed the door behind me and kept my back to it while the tears spilled over my cheeks. The ache spread across my chest, as well as the guilt, and the shame. It all attacked me at once, seeing its chance to bring me down, and pouncing on it.
The door opened quietly behind me, bumping me out of the way. I swiped furiously at my eyes, not wanting Sarah to see me cry.
“You’re upset.”
I choked and spun around, only to find myself staring up at Vincent rather than Sarah. In the small office, I realized how tall he was, but it was his expression that nearly undid me.
Instead of the awkward, disingenuous sympathy a stranger would have normally shown, Vincent’s eyes were dark and angry. His gaze focused hard on me, taking in my tears that had probably smudged my eyeliner. They lingered on my cheekbone, and I quickly raised a hand to cover the bruising that might have been exposed by my running makeup.
I forced a fake smile, but I couldn’t hold it. The tears kept coming.
Vincent stood glued to his spot, not saying a word, but not looking for an escape either. In the silence, the story burst from my chest. “I’m so sorry. My brother died last night, and I haven’t had time to process it.”
Vincent didn’t utter a sound. So I just kept going.
“I saw his body. It was horrible, and I don’t know how to keep the image out of my mind. He didn’t just die, you see. He was murdered. It was graphic and sickening and…I’m so very sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
I wiped my fingers beneath my eyes once more and gulped in hicuppy breath. “You have the job, by the way. You’re great with the kids. They already love you. When can you start? I mean, if you still want the job? I promise, this is a one-off. I do not make a habit of having breakdowns at work.”
Vincent’s gaze flickered over my face, continually landing on my hand covering my cheek.
He knew.
I could tell from the look in his eyes.
“Thank you for the job offer,” he said stiffly.
The silence rang out between us.
“But…you don’t want it? I truly am sorry about all this. I can’t blame you for wanting to run far, far away right now. I understand I look like a complete crazy person—”
“You don’t. Crazy people…do not look like you. You just look sad.”
I nodded.
“I can start tomorrow. Or today, if you need to take the rest of the day off. I could stay.”
“No, please. You’re so kind to offer, but tomorrow will be fine. I’m fine.”
“People who say they’re fine generally aren’t fine.”
He had a point I couldn’t argue with. “Tomorrow is fine,” I repeated.
“Very well. Tomorrow then. It’s been very nice to meet you, Bethany-Melissa.” He held out his hand for me to shake.
I didn’t want to take his hand. After last night, I was second-guessing any contact with a man, but it would have been incredibly rude for me to ignore his offered handshake.
I put my hand in his.
His fingers squeezed around mine gently, and he pulled me in a step, so we were all up in each other’s space. With his mouth at my ear, he whispered so softly I’d later think I imagined it.
“Whoever did that to your face doesn’t deserve to breathe.”
6
VINCENT
I’d thought I was immune to tears.
I’d seen so many of them as people cried at my feet, begging me to spare their lives. Some slid down cheeks silently, dripping off their chins. Some people gulped and choked while they pleaded and bargained. Others bawled angry tears and screamed obscenities at me, the water leaking from their eyes a by-product of their rage.