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Or just that the cake was good?
“It’s just...it’s not just what my father did that makes me paranoid,” she heard herself saying. Justifying. As if the only thing that mattered was that he understand her.
Or maybe it was just that sometime over the past three months, she’d fallen into the habit of confiding in him.
Because he was safe. He was licensed to keep people safe.
Chewing, he glanced at her. Took a sip of his coffee.
Elliott was a man of few words. She knew that about him.
Luckily she’d always had an overabundance of them. “I dated a guy almost my entire freshman year of college,” she said. If he knew the whole truth, he’d understand. “Mark Yarnell. He was from Arizona, too. I thought we’d see each other over the summer, said something to him about it, and that’s when I found out that he had a fiancée back home in Phoenix. He wasn’t in love with her and had thought that maybe he’d break up with her and ask me to marry him. But she was a member of his church and he said it was the right thing to do to marry her.”
“Were you in love with him?”
“I don’t know. I know I liked him more than any other guy I’d ever dated.” She’d gone to church with him, too.
“Then there was Jimmy Jones,” she said, taking a sip from her water bottle and glancing up at him at the same time. His body blocked the overhead light, putting a shadow on the table. Shoulders that big, all in black the way they always were, should be somewhat intimidating. But they weren’t.
Nor was the serious look in those dark eyes. The cake was gone. His coffee almost was, too.
“Jimmy Jones?” He asked, his brow raised.
“Gabi and I met him at a rodeo our junior year. He played us against each other. Telling her she was the one he really liked and telling me the same thing. Luckily for us we tell each other everything.”
“And I’m guessing he lived to regret what he’d done,” Elliott said, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth.
“Let’s just say he’ll probably always cringe a bit when a loudspeaker comes on before a show.”
“You got someone to put a message out over the loudspeaker at a rodeo?”
“We did better than that. The reason we were at the rodeo was that the father of a friend of ours owned a team. Jimmy rode for an opposing team. We recorded him talking to me on the phone. And then making similar promises and proclamations to Gabi. We both got him to play it up big. And then we turned the tape over to our friend. It was her father’s idea to play it in public.”
“What did he do?”
“I have no idea. We opted not to be present.” Because they weren’t mean-spirited. But had been young enough to think they could make a difference. Teach him a lesson. Prevent other women from being hurt...
“And then there was the medical resident my senior year,” she said. “I was probably in love with him. Until I caught him with a girl I worked with at the coffee shop. She’d asked me to take her shift at the shop, and I’d agreed because he was going to be studying. When I got off early I made him his favorite coffee and stopped by to surprise him. I was the one who got the surprise.”
There. He knew her history. The facts. She wasn’t crazy. She had good reason not to trust men.
Elliott didn’t seem moved by anything she’d said—other than the stuff about Jimmy Jones. But then he hadn’t seemed all that put off by her words the day before, either.
So why was she feeling so defensive?
“A study was done recently at Rutgers University,” she blurted when she’d just told herself not to say any more. “And other places, too. By renowned psychiatrists and relationship specialists. At least one said that seventy percent of married men cheat on their wives, and some even go so far as to state that a relationship that lasts a lifetime is a rarity these days.”
His eyes narrowed. “You looked up statistics?”
“No.” She wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite. “My mother did. Many times over the years. She was looking for validation, needed to know that she wasn’t the only woman who’d been duped. And also wanting to know that a lot of women took their husbands back after an affair. Depended on where she was in her life, but she’d always quote the statistics to me when she wanted me to accept whatever she was feeling.”
“But you said the Rutgers study was recent.”
“My father was trying to talk her into another chance. He tried to get me involved, to get my approval, and that’s when she called me with the seventy-percent study. She got that one from some website about cheating husbands.”
“You were siding with your father?”
“No! He’d just told her he talked to me. I’d already chosen not to get involved.”
