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“Why would I?”
“Because you loved me too.”
I did. But that was a long time ago. When I was a different person. When I was under my father’s thumb like a child. “He hunted down all four of the men who did that to me…and killed every last one of them. I didn’t even have to ask. He just did it.”
He looked down at the table.
“You had seven years to do the same—and you were my husband.”
“It’s complicated—”
“It’s not that complicated. Not complicated at all.”
“Your father made a truce with them—”
“Wow…he’s even more vile than I realized.” You didn’t make a truce with your daughter’s rapist. You didn’t make peace with the men who killed your wife. I always thought he was the ultimate asshole, but now I wondered if he was the ultimate coward.
“I had no way to get their names—”
“Well, my man got them.”
He looked at me again. “Because he’s dangerous, like I said.”
“Because he puts his money where his mouth is. Because he gets shit done. Because he’s aman.”
He gave a brief cringe like those words actually wounded him.
“You have a lot of balls, asking me for another chance.”
“I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t.”
“Especially when you know I have a boyfriend.”
“I know that’s a short-term thing.”
“Why would you assume that?” My arms folded on the table.
“Because men like that don’t settle down.”
He was right on the money.
“And I know he’s not the kind of husband you want anyway.”
“And you think you are?” I asked incredulously.
“You married me once, didn’t you?”
“I was young and stupid—”
“And you loved me.” He grew more confident, more like the man I remembered. “You’re getting older—”
“Don’t clock my ovaries. That’s not going to work.”
“I’m just saying we want the same things—”
“I want a man who stays by my side through sickness and health. Not someone who takes off the second shit gets hard—”
“I learned my lesson. I would never do anything like that again.”
