“I know it’s not.”
“J’ai été égo?ste, mais j’avais mes raisons. Il y a une raison à tout ce que je fais. Et si c’est notre histoire, sache que je suis ici pour te donner, pour nous donner, une meilleure fin.” I’ve been selfish, but I had my reasons. There’s always a reason for everything I do. And if that’s our story, then know I’m here to give you, us, a better ending.
Sulking, he walks over to the passenger side of the Audi and plops himself into the seat before slamming the door. Pressing my lips together to hide my amusement at his rare tantrum, I take the driver’s seat and turn the heat on high, opening the vents his way. Full of contempt, he sits there like a scolded child, his jaw set, his eyes averted. Pressing my lips together, I put the car into gear as he speaks up.
“I never brought a woman into this for a fucking reason. First, it was too much to ask of any woman long-term. Period. And this, what’s happening between us, the resentment you feel for me now is why. That’s one of the reasons I punished them so harshly for dragging you into this.”
“You’re blowing this out of proportion and taking it too personally.”
“I have no choice.” He remains silent as I drive the few miles back to the house, but I can feel the war raging inside of him, the energy in the cabin dense and coming from every gin-infused pore. When we pull up to the house, he stops me from exiting the car with a hand on my thigh, bringing tortured eyes to mine. “The only reason I believe God exists is because you do. So many times, I wanted to come to you—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” I explode, surprising myself with my venom.
“I told you why I couldn’t!”
“It doesn’t make it any better!”
He switches gears as if he’s having too many thoughts. “Was Collin your Luke? In the book, Meggie marries a man she doesn’t love. Alicia was my Luke. I didn’t love her. I couldn’t.”
“He was in a way, but you can’t generalize relationships like that.”
“What do I know about relationships?” He slings the word with disgust. “That I tried most of my fucking life to avoid them? I know how to treat a woman, that’s…common sense, how to fuck them, but I never allowed myself to have anything real for any woman…until you.” He swallows and shakes his head ironically. “Instinctually, I always knew…that if I let myself get lost in a woman, how fucking detrimental it would be for all involved, and I was right. I was fucking right.” His grip on my thigh tightens, “and then I lost you.”
The sting and the soothe of his admission have my own tangled emotions about us surfacing. The sting begins to win as I fight the urge to lash out, but he’s speaking the truth. That’s the nature of us, of how we started and all the resistance that followed as we battled our desire and our growing need. But my resentment wins.
“You didn’t lose me. You discarded me, cruelly, purposefully,” I remind him. “You forced me out.”
“I had to! I couldn’t even protect myself!” He curses in both English and French, searching my face. “Am I too late?” He regards me for seconds before he slams a fist on the dash, eyes red-rimmed and losing focus.
“How much did you drink?”
“Not nearly enough!” I flinch, and he shakes his head.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Don’t be afraid of me. Jesus Christ, stop being afraid of me!” He jumps out of the car and rounds it, yanking me from the driver’s seat just as I grab my purse, his expression hopeful as he runs his hands over me. “I have a surprise.”
And I have fucking whiplash.
Physically, I can feel the ache inside him, his desperation to turn it all around and not later, now. He’s drunk as hell, but all he’s feeling is visceral. I can sense his hurt, his guilt, his agitation with our situation, and my refusal to fully let him in.