Andrew looked down. “I guess I fucked up pretty bad.”
It was both an understatement and stunningly accurate. It also stoppered any recriminations I might have thought to serve him. He knew what he’d done, and he knew it was wrong. What was the point of an accusation, when he’d already accepted the verdict? But there was one thing I wanted to know. “Why, Andrew?”
Remorse was in his eyes when he glanced up at me, but also confusion. He shook his head as he spoke, as if to negate his words. “I never would have thought… It wasn’t planned. I went a little crazy, I guess. More than a little.”
That was the rub of it. There was no magic answer.
He wasn’t the stereotypical rapist. He wasn’t a mean person. He wasn’t one of the guys I picked up at the bar. If he’d passed out from the alcohol that night, or if I’d left early, or if so many things, then it might never have happened. Our lives would have been so different, never knowing how close we’d come to breaking.
And I knew all about doing things that were out of character, that went against our ideals, that hurt people. I’d done it once a month, and I’d done it last night. I didn’t even have the luxury of them being spur-of-the-moment. Mine were so deliberate.
“Where have you been?” I asked, because it seemed like the thing to say. And maybe I was curious.
“Marines.” He grinned, and little-boy Andrew peeked out at me. “You didn’t think I could do it.”
“Did they kick your ass?”
He made a solemn face, but his eyes still twinkled. “Absolutely.”
Idiot. “Good.”
“What about you?” And our daughter was unspoken.
“Nothing much. I worked in a bakery.” I wondered if he thought back to when I’d brought over chocolate-chip cookies, his favorite. Or when I’d made cupcakes as both our contributions to the school bake fair, since neither of us had mothers to do it for us. Or when I’d made brownies, laced with more adult things. I wondered but didn’t ask. The pain mixed with nostalgia—bittersweet.
“And now?” he asked.
I blushed.
“Ah,” he said. “Colin Murphy, right?”
Something flickered—had I told him Colin’s name? I must have. “Something like that.”
His eyes darkened as his gaze raked down the side of my bruised face. “He’s treating you right?”
I raised an eyebrow. As if he were one to worry about my well-being. He hadn’t only hurt me, but he’d kicked off the chain of events that had hurt me. The doctors and nurses, then the… Don’t think about that. “What’re you going to do if he’s not?”
“Hey, it’s not all sunshine and candy in the military.”
I gave him a full-body perusal back. He’d clearly gotten built since years ago, but he didn’t have Colin’s bulk. Nor did he have Colin’s determination, no matter if he’d matured in the past two years. I had the feeling Colin’s fortitude had been forged early, making him a lot older than the six years that separated us.
“Still,” I said. “I wouldn’t pick a fight with the guy, if I were you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m still recovering.” He touched the corner of his eye.
Now that I looked—yes, there were some shadows there, maybe even discoloration. “He hit you?”
“Just once, and it was way less than I deserved,” he said. Hadn’t Colin promised not to hurt him? Or had that just been me? Either way I couldn’t be too hard on him for showing restraint. In the wilds of the Chicago underground, a black eye was more a warning shot than punishment. I couldn’t deny that a very small sense of satisfaction welled inside me. As he said, it was the least Andrew deserved, but all he would get.
“We make quite a pair.” Both bruised by Colin but loving him anyway. That last part was probably just me.
“I always thought it would be me and you, in the end.” He sighed. “Tell me about her.”
Bailey. The longing in his eyes pierced me, but I shook my head. “It will only make it real, and it can’t work like that.”
I expected the questions—why not?—or for the demands to start, but he looked as solemn as I’d ever seen him. And despite the conflict that warred in his eyes, he said, “I know.”
My heart leaped in hope. “So you’ll leave us alone?”
A wry smile, then, “You charmer, you.” He grew serious. “Yes, I’ll leave you alone. I stayed away because I couldn’t trust myself around you. I didn’t want to hurt you again. But I think I also didn’t want to see you suffering. I told myself you could pretend it was bad sex and move on. I didn’t know about…her. I wouldn’t have left you to deal with it alone.”
“We did okay,” I said, thinking it was probably true. “And I had Shelly.”
“She had a few words for me when I called her. Between her and him, you’ve got a nice little army at your back.”
A slow smile spread on my face. It was a nice thought, anyway.