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She poured another measure of wine, then passed it over the counter, watching as his long-fingered hand curved around the glass, carrying it back to the sofa. He didn’t sit, though.
Alicia reached for her own glass on the coffee table and lifted it to her lips.
‘You wanted to talk?’
His eyes bore into hers. ‘I think we must, don’t you?’
Her throat was dry. This was excruciating. Agony pummelled her. Slowly she nodded, taking another sip of wine before sitting on the edge of the sofa, perched in an almost crouch, ready to spring up if needed. Defensive. Uncertain. Wary.
Graciano placed the folder on the coffee table, staring at it a moment before looking to her. He read her body language like a book, and knowing him to be the cause of those emotions fractured something deep inside of him, causing a fault line he doubted he’d ever be able to repair.
‘I have no intention of taking Annie away from you.’ The thread he’d made had loomed large in his mind for days.
Her eyes widened and there was some satisfaction in the look of relief that immediately crossed her face.
‘It was beneath me to imply it. I’m very, very sorry.’
Her lips parted and her pale, pinched face angled to his. ‘It wasn’t—’ She shook her head in consternation. ‘I don’t understand. What does that mean?’
‘I haven’t seen you interact with our daughter for more than a cursory amount,’ he said, careful to keep any hint of reproach from the words. ‘But I know you. I know who you are, and the kind of mother you would be. I’ve seen this.’ He gestured to the folder. ‘You have given her so much.’
Alicia’s eyes filled with tears and something rolled in his gut. He hated seeing her upset. He’d always hated it. So much had clarified for him in the last twenty-four hours and now he wondered how he’d ever been such a stranger to himself, his feelings—how he’d let time and success change him so completely.
‘Are you saying—’ She looked up at him carefully, then blinked away, her lips pressed together. ‘You’re leaving?’
He furrowed his brow, not following her logic. ‘What?’
‘You don’t want to be in her life after all?’
He swore in Spanish, then moved towards her, crouching in front of her so their eyes were closer to level. ‘That’s absolutelynotwhat I mean.’
Her gaze roamed his face, trying to understand. ‘Then what?’
‘I have to explain something to you,’ he said after a beat, knowing how important it was to go right back to the beginning. ‘You know I told you that leaving you, that first time, was like having the rug pulled from under me? I didn’t recognise myself,querida.Without you, nothing made sense. Somehow, without me realising it, you became a part of me that summer. I breathed you in, and you weaved through my DNA, so that even when I left Seville, you stayed in me. I hated that. I fought it. Every day, I pushed you away from me. I pushed you out of my mind—my dreams. I willed you away from me with everything I had. I had to. I had to be strong, because if I was weak, I’d go back to you. I’d do whatever it took to be with you, even risk prison.’
‘I wouldneverhave let that happen.’
‘Your first instinct was right. You were powerless against your father.’
‘He was wrong.’
‘Yes,’ Graciano agreed. ‘But so was I.’
She blinked up at him, then sipped her wine, too fast so she coughed a little. He eased back on his haunches, waiting. ‘Why?’ she asked, eventually.
‘Your father’s words were a test of my honour, and I failed it. I ran when I should have stayed and fought. I ran, and in that way, I failed you. I failed the faith you had in me, the love you had given me. I’m sorry.’
She made no effort to disguise her tears now as her lower lip trembled. ‘It was a lifetime ago.’
‘Was it? Because it feels very much like that failure haunts us both, to this very day.’
She didn’t meet his gaze.
‘Tell me something, Alicia.’
She blinked at him, her features taut.
‘Have you been with anyone since me?’
