“He told me. The bastard came to me, looked me in the eye, and told me, Clara. He told me how long, how much he cared about you . . . he even fucking apologized.” Boone’s voice was quieter, more controlled, but his expression was not. Behind that even voice, the same storm was brewing inside him as was in me. “He told me, so you can stop lying. It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned.”
“Is that why you’re bringing it up then?” I spat, glaring at him before pacing to the opposite corner of the room. Too much emotion. Too little air to breathe. Too much temptation to pick up another one of those angels and fling it at him.
“I’m only bringing it up because I’d like to hear you admit it. I’d like you to look me in the face and tell me yourself about you and Ford.” Boone slowly stood, rising to his full height. He seemed impossibly imposing with the way he was facing me, with the way he was staring at me. “You know, this whole time, everyone’s felt so bad for you because your boyfriend was banging someone else behind your back—and sure, their case might be a bit more juicy given the other woman was little sis—but all I have to say is that what goes around, comes around.”
I crossed my arms and backed into the corner. That was about as far as I could get from him. “You really have no goddamned idea what you’re talking about, do you?”
“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
“You might think you know, but the story I know is just a teeny bit different.” I glanced at the door. My longing to walk through it and never have to see him or this room or this place again became as irresistible as a siren’s call. The past was gone. I didn’t want to relive it. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t really even want to set the record straight. I just wanted to go.
“How different?” Boone’s voice was a note quieter.
“Are you asking for the sake of continuing our argument, or are you asking because you actually want to know?” My voice had gone quieter as well. Barely three minutes into a fight, and we were both already worn out. As kids, we could have gone on for hours. Either we’d learned our lessons as adults or just didn’t possess the same amount of energy.
“I’m asking because I’m willing to hear your side of the story.” Boone opened his stance some, keeping his arms crossed.
“How generous of you. Too bad you didn’t think to stop and ask me the same question years ago.” I shook my head, blinded by the light that was finally being shed on why Boone had left me.
“I was a little busy seeing red after finding out the girl I fucking loved was screwing some asshole behind my back. I was a little busy trying not to commit murder when I found out you were pregnant and the guy I hated most in the whole entire world could just as easily have been its father as I could.”
“And while you were busy doing that, I was busy being alone and scared and . . .” When my vision got hazy, I shook my head. I’d cried enough tears over that time in my life. I’d reached my official limit 1.5 million ago. No more. “And did I mention, I was scared and alone?” My voice broke, so I stopped. I had so much more to say, but I didn’t want to say it if my voice was going to break into a bunch of pieces.
“What did you think was going to happen?” Boone cracked his neck.
“Not what actually did happen,” I whispered.
Five seconds of silence passed between us. I knew because I counted them. It felt like the only way to keep the tears at bay.
“I’ve forgiven you, Clara. I forgave you a long time ago. That’s not why I’m bringing this up now.” Boone shuffled forward a small step. “I’m bringing it up because it explains part of the reason why I can’t do this again.” He waved between the two of us. “Why I can’t do us again. Forgive is one thing. Forget is another. I’m not the forgetting kind.”
My eyes closed. I wondered just how much of the world had been built and crumbled by miscommunications. How much of our history had been built upon a foundation of assumptions and lies and crossed wires. I was getting a good idea of just how much of my history had been marred by it.
“Well, thank you for the forgiveness, but you should have saved it for someone else because in terms of what you’re under the impression I needed it for, you’re sadly mistaken.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling tension so thick throughout my body, it felt like molasses. I wanted to set the record straight. I wanted to tell him my side of the story, but it felt like it would take so much energy to do so, and right then, I was down to my last ounce.
“I didn’t sleep with Ford.”
There. I’d said it. My side of the story. Now he knew. What he’d choose to do with it and if he’d choose to believe it, I didn’t know. But at least he knew, for whatever it was worth.
“I think I’m going to need a little more clarification than that.” Boone’s arms relaxed to his sides, but his shoulders stayed tight.