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His eyes drifted back to the Sacred Heart on the wall, the reminder of all Christ had done, His immeasurable love for mankind. He’d thought he understood what God wanted of him. He’d been so sure when he decided to pursue the law, to marry Sabina. He thought they could live out Christ’s love together, change things for their families, build one of their own. They could show the next generation that you didn’t have to steal and cheat and kill to survive—you could give and serve and love instead.
Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe he’d been following his own base desires, not what God wanted for him. Maybe that’s why everything had fallen apart.
“I miss you.” How could words be so soft they barely reached his ears, yet strike his heart like hammers? “I miss talking to you, laughing with you. I know you don’t trust me anymore—and you shouldn’t—but do you think we could try to get that back? Pretend we’re kids again?”
He averted his face, watching the sun’s fire spill over the skyline through the window. Light washed over the world, but he felt only darkness, only the questions pounding in time with his head. What if you were wrong? What if you were wrong? What if you were wrong?
“Enzo?” Her voice was tight with more tears, stabbing him with new guilt.
If he had been wrong, then this was his fault. He’d destroyed something precious and beautiful by trying to force it into what was never meant to be. He’d hurt them both, and he didn’t know if it could be undone. “Sure, Bean. We can be friends again.”
He must have sounded about as convinced as he felt. She shifted away, and the mattress lifted when she stood. “Never mind. I’ll just…”
“Sabina.” She sounded so hollow, so hopeless that he couldn’t help but look her way. He couldn’t stop his hand from snagging hers to keep her from fleeing the room. If she left now, like this, it would be over. He’d thought last night that was what he wanted. But he couldn’t, couldn’t let her just walk away so upset. He would sort out later which step had been the biggest mistake, but right now he just wanted to keep from making another.
He linked their fingers together and met her eyes. “I want to be your friend.”
If it brought her any joy, the message didn’t reach her eyes. “But…nothing else?”
Did it even matter what he wanted? He didn’t know if it was right. He didn’t know if she still loved that cop who’d used her so ill, didn’t know if he’d ever be able to look at her again without imagining her in O’Reilly’s arms. And some invisible hand was driving an invisible spike through his skull. “What is it you want, Bean?”
She sat on the mattress again, but on the edge, barely perching. A timid little bird, ready to fly away at the first sign of danger. “What do you want?”
Despite himself, he smiled. It had been an endless game when they were kids. What do you want to do? I don’t know, what do you want? I don’t know, what do you want? He wanted to reclaim that—the beauty of it, the innocence. “I asked you first.”
She drew in a breath so long it surely filled her lungs to bursting. “I…” The way she pulled out that single syllable told him that whatever came next was difficult. Heavy. “I want to keep your ring on. I want to keep making our plans for August thirteenth. And in the meantime, I want to start over with you. If you want to—if you can forgive me.”
Did he? Could he? He didn’t know. But admitting it was too cruel.
So he nodded.
