“Bullshit. You did it because you were angry about this.” She stabbed her finger at the scar on her forehead. “You could have tried a dozen other options. Instead, you went to the most extreme because you felt that what I’d done made you less of a man.
“What was I supposed to do? Let him cut you, probably killing you in the process? Should I have let Will stand in for you? Or the Rev? Would it have been easier on your manhood if it had been one of them and not me?” Sophie took a shaky breath and tried to regain control.
“A scar on my forehead seemed a small price to pay for your life. But you…you drugged me, violating all the medical ethics in the world because you needed to feel stronger than me. As if fooling a sick woman into taking a pill makes you anything other than a liar and a coward, not to mention a lousy doctor. You asshole!”
The rage that had boiled up in his face as she blasted him was incomparable. She’d never seen Michael this angry before, but she’d also never spoken to him this harshly either. His lips formed a thin, white line, and she could hear a low sound of fury in his chest. If it had been anyone else, she would have feared for her safety by now. Instead, she waited for him to start screaming, her pointed chin held high.
But the shouting never came. The rage slipped away from his face to be replaced by introspection, then confusion. He flushed unexpectedly, then turned away, putting his hand over his face.
“Stop.” She reached for his arm, but he jerked away. “Stop right there. If there is ever to be trust between us, it starts with this. Please do not hide your feelings from me any longer. This is the twenty-first century. Men are allowed to show their emotions. Even Orlisian men.”
He didn’t move for a long moment, then lowered his hand and turned back to her. Sophie could see him cringing in humiliation as a tear splashed down his cheek.
“You are right,” he choked out. “I was so angry. I still am. He cut you, hurt you…because of me.” He let out a sob that sounded like it was being forcibly wrenched from his body. “Orlisia…my country is gone. I could not save it. I could not protect you as I should have –” His voice broke off.
“Michael, please just let it out.” He shook his head, biting his lip so hard that he drew blood. She reached out again and captured one of his hands, tugging on it. Reluctantly, he let her pull him closer until his head rested on her chest. She wrapped her arms around his stiff frame, feeling his body shaking against her.
“I am so sorry,” he gasped. “Please, mana mila, tell me you still love me.”
“I will always love you. Even when I am this angry at you, I still love you.”
Something seemed to let go in Michael’s body, and she felt hot tears soaking into her gown.
A short while later, she nudged him. “We’ve only a few more minutes before Anjali returns. I need to say some more things.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands, looking like a little child. “I accept your apology with one condition.”
“Which is?”
“When we get back to New York, you need to talk to someone. Will and I work with a therapist who specializes in professions that involve trauma. If he’s not right for you, he can refer you to someone else.” He didn’t say anything. “You’ve had a very bad time of it these last six months, and perhaps this has interfered with your judgment.”
He sat there, thinking. He wasn’t one to talk about feelings, and the thought of him in therapy was a bit of a stretch, even for Sophie.
“If it is a condition for us to stay together, then I will do it,” he finally said.
“It is a condition. And,” she added in deadly earnest, “if you ever disrespect me in this way or any other again, our relationship is over.” He nodded and took one of her hands in his.
“Who punched you?” she asked.
“Anjali. She is very strong for someone so small.” He looked affronted for a moment. “Also, it was a sucker punch.”