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“Tell me something about you,” she said. “What are you ashamed of?”
He looked away from her. “I’m not ashamed of anything. I don’t have shame.”
He looked back at her, their eyes meeting, his expression fierce. “I’ve seen too many things...done too many things. And I don’t regret them. Because they’ve made me who I am.”
“That’s such a line. We all regret things. I regret getting into the car with Colin. I regret drinking that much. I regret letting him videotape me.”
“And it changes nothing, so why bother with it?”
“Because it did change something. It changed me.”
“Ah, yes, and you’re so happy and well-adjusted now?”
“No. I’ve proven, yet again, that when you follow your...emotions and hormones and...things that aren’t logical, stupid things happen.”
“Is that how you see the baby? As something stupid?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said stupid things happen.”
“Are we going to stand here and pretend I made a stellar decision in sleeping with you when I was engaged to someone else? I don’t have it in me to lie like that.”
“Just to omit the truth when it suits you.”
“Shut up, Alex.”
“You just asked me to share about myself.”
“Then do that. But don’t throw stones at me. I can’t take it right now. I just...spilled my guts to you and I can’t take your criticism on top of it.”
Silence fell between them. A thick blanket that offered no warmth or comfort. Just a heavy awkwardness that made her skin break out into goose bumps.
He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not overly shocked by your revelations since I used to catch live performances of what you did in that video in the halls of...of the Kouklakis compound. When I was a child,” he finished, the word hard and bitter. “I was protected, but only to a degree. You want me to tell you about things I’m ashamed of? I don’t even know what shame looks like.”
He turned away from her, his posture rigid, the defined muscles in his back standing out, tension radiating from him. “I’ve seen my own mother on her knees in front of a man. I’ve seen her beg and cry and offer favors for a chance to stay.” He turned back to her. “To take care of me, I thought. Because of love, I thought. But that wasn’t it. At least it wasn’t because she loved me. It was because she loved heroin and the man who owned it all. It was never for me. Fine, do you want to know what shame really feels like? Finding out your own mother loves drugs and sex more than she loves you. That’s shame. That burns, Rachel, in a way you can’t possibly imagine. You want to know what I know about family? There you are.”
“Alex...”
“Don’t,” he bit out, crossing to her. “I don’t need your pity. I am not that boy. I am not a victim. I got out by the skin of my teeth—I scraped my knuckles raw climbing out of that prison. I didn’t escape clean, but I escaped.”
“Is that why you hate Ajax so much? Because he got out and he’s done well for himself? Because he’s unaffected?”
