"What are you planning to do?" I asked her, handing her a glass of scotch, straight up. "Are you going to confront anyone?"
She laughed, a sound of pure delight that reverberated through me, making my heart pound, reminding me that it was still a slave to her whims, damn her. "Who would I confront? And about what? What do I know, do you suppose? If I say I know everything, will you slip and tell me even more?"
I took strong exception to how much she was enjoying this. "This isn't a game."
Her smile died a short death, leaving behind the quiet rage that had never really left. "You think I don't know that?" Her voice was so full of icy bitterness that I could taste it in my own mouth. She could flay me alive with that tone, strip the skin from my bones. "You think this was ever fun for me? Being lied to? Being manipulated? But I won't be answering your questions anymore. You'll be answering mine."
I didn't argue with her. Instead, I toasted the air and finished my drink.
I think I'd have agreed to anything just then if it kept her from leaving.
If it meant she would keep coming back.
I'd reached my threshold on living without her. As dangerous as it was, as much as it made my chest cold with fear, I was done staying away from her.
And, God help me, I didn't have the will to live with the lies anymore.
"So if I agree to answer your questions," I began, sometime later, charging bravely through the pregnant silence, determined to negotiate with her.
Compromising had always, ironically, been one of our strengths.
Ironic because two more prideful, stubborn souls had never walked the earth.
I think, and had always assumed, that it only worked because we were so devoted to each other.
We'd grown up as godless, savage creatures, believing in nothing so much as each other, and somehow it had always been enough. When you can't imagine living without a person, of course you'll do what's necessary, concede when you have to, to keep the peace.
"You'll stay with me," I forged ahead. "We'll be together."
She didn't answer for a long time, instead just looking at me, her eyes hard and unyielding.
I studied her back, taking in her dear face like I could never have enough.
Because I never could.
I was always obsessed with her. It was one of the defining, consistent characteristics of my life. Obsessed not just with her perfections, but also with her flaws. Her stubborn pride even held a special place in my heart. It had ruined me as a person in so many ways, but God did it get to me. She took it to a level where, even when it was to your detriment, you almost had to admire it.
But I had reached my limit. She would be compromising today.
We had lapsed into a staring contest, one I was determined to win.
I would have this from her.
And so I did. She broke first, her hard eyes wavering, lids trembling for a heart-turning moment before they watered and she looked away.
"We've been at war for so long. How do we just let that go?" Her voice was tremulous from her loss. It wasn't easy for her to concede defeat. It never had been.
"We've been at war alright, but you just didn't see that we weren't supposed to be fighting each other. It was wrong, but it's over now. I'm not asking for everything at once. I understand the damage that's been done here more than anyone. I'm just asking you to try. Give me your time, every spare moment of it, and I'll give you some answers.
I had her. I saw it. In her clenched fists and quivering lips, I saw it.
I moved a step closer.
She braced but didn't move away.
I took another step. She closed her eyes as my fingers traced over her brow. Feather light, I stroked her temples, sliding my hands back to cup her head.
I gripped her hair with both hands and touched our foreheads together. "You'll stay with me," I repeated. "We'll be together."
I needed this to be very clear; a verbal confirmation. There could be no miscommunications. We'd had enough of those.
"And you'll tell me the truth?" she said in a vulnerable voice that gutted me far quicker than a razor sharp one could have.
"Yes. Yes. I'll answer your questions. Your turn."
"I can't just let these things go. I can't just forgive. Not you, not me."
"I'm not asking you to," I explained. My tone was calm and reasonable, my heart pounding like a stampede. "I'm not that greedy or that delusional. I asked you to be with me. The rest can come later."
Her voice was barely audible in the quiet room, but piercing all the same. "Yes. I'll be with you." She sounded uncertain and dismayed, but I'd take it.
My eyes shut tight in acute relief, and I held her like that for a time, our foreheads touching, my fingers gently rubbing her scalp.
I felt I could have stayed that way indefinitely, I was so grateful for the connection.
But then she touched me, her hands reaching up, stroking lightly from my wrists down to my elbows and back again.
And that was it. Sweetness turned base.
Blood rushed through my body, my stomach clenching as lust kicked in, too overwhelming to deny.