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“You can’t keep walking out or avoiding me every time there’s a hurdle.”
“A hurdle?” He spews. “This is a fucking mountain.”
“Then we’ll climb it together.”
Mick looks at me as if I’m insane. “Why the hell would you want to?”
“How can you ask that?”
“Because I’m fucked up. Because I could have hit you in my sleep. Because you don’t deserve any of this.”
“You are not fucked up. You need to deal with what’s in your dreams. With whatever is tormenting you. Let me help you do that. I love you.”
I step toward him, but he puts up a hand to stave me off.
“You love who you think I am.”
“I know who you are.”
“You don’t know what’s inside me, Dee.”
“If you mean your father, then you’re wrong. Do you think Dwayde is anything like his mother? Do you think those kids you pour all your heart into helping have tainted blood or don’t deserve love because of where they come from?” His unyielding demeanor remains closed. “You are not your father, Mick. Don’t make excuses to run.”
“I can’t stay.” His voice carries a sad resignation. “Don’t ask me to.”
“I’m not asking…I’m begging.”
“Stop.”
“No.” I block his path. “Do you know how hard it was for me to open myself up to you? To let you see every flaw, every shame, every hurt? I let you in, Mick. I was terrified to give so much. To risk myself that way. But I did it. Because I trusted in our love. I trusted you.”
“I know you did and I’m sorry,” he says thickly, averting his eyes.
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to talk to me. To fight for us. Please.”
“I can’t.”
A slap couldn’t hurt more. Tears sting my eyes. I cross my arms around my waist, trying to hold myself together, and step away. Because as muchas I love him, I know the road for a healthy, enduring relationship between us is paved with honesty and truth, not secrets and denial.
As if in mourning, Idress in all black. A high-collar blouse beneath my suit hides the hickies on my neck and concealer disguises the circles under my eyes. But nothing can hide the sorrow. I feel it in every pore. In every joint.
The possibility that Mick and I might really be over is just too much. But even if he were to come back, I won’t live with only the bits and pieces he chooses to share. I want it all or nothing. And yet, that nothing is killing me.
“Dee?” I glance up to see Lena in the doorway. She looks concerned. “You alright?”
“Just tired.” It’s a struggle, but I force the corners of my mouth to lift. “What’s up?”
“Calista Sanchez is on line one. She says it’s important.”
Engrossed in my relationship woes, I hadn’t even heard the phone ring. “Thanks.”
I pick up the receiver and put my composure in place. “Hi, Calista.”
“Got the lab report.” She jumps in unceremoniously. “The signature on the custody document is a high match to Joyce Franklin’s.”
I’d expected as much. “Thomas Jackson wouldn’t have put forward a document he hadn’t tested himself first.”
“You’re probably right. He’s an arrogant ass, but he’s not a stupid man.”
