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Then again, was anyone ever prepared to talk about how they had killed their wife?
LEARNING THE TRUTH
AVA
“Don’t you need to get back to the restaurant?” Tony asked, and I knew he wanted to avoid this topic of conversation, but I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.
Tony and I had found ourselves on some sort of common ground, and I’d be damned if I walked away from it. Not yet. Not when doing so would give him the time to build his walls back up and pretend like he didn’t want to cross this line with me.
I saw it in his eyes—the interest and the desire. Glancing at the old clock on the wall, I couldn’t believe I’d been at his house for well over an hour already. Tony and I had never been in each other’s presence for this long before.
“I do, but not yet.”
“You’re sure?”
“Tony…” I said his name softly and noticed the way it relaxed him.
His shoulders dropped before tightening back up.
“We were at a business event,” he started to explain before his eyes pulled together with the memory. “Liam was there. You weren’t though. I would have remembered meeting you.” His head shook. “Lydia—she was my wife.” He said her name with a smile, and my heart ached for him. “She wasn’t feeling well, but she was always willing to take one for the team. Know that saying?” he asked, and I nodded. “God, she said it all the time. She truly was a team player and would do anything to help me. That included going to my boring work events when she felt like shit.”
“She sounds really great.” It slipped out, my assessment of his apparent dead wife, but it was the truth. She sounded like a nice person. My words hurt him though. I saw it all over his face.
He shifted on the couch, like he was suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin and wished he could get out of it.
“She was selfless.”
He grew quiet, and I stared at him, watching his chest move in and out with each breath he took. I wanted to hear more, everything honestly, but pushing him too hard on this felt wrong.
His dark eyes met mine, and it took everything in me to stay seated in the chair and not rush to his side. I wanted to take him in my arms, tell him everything would be okay, and just… hold him. He looked like he needed it.
“Like I said, she wasn’t feeling well, so she asked if we could go.”
I leaned forward, put my elbows on my knees, and listened intently. The words were spilling so slowly from his lips; it was almost torturous. A better person might have told him to stop, that he didn’t need to go on and relive this moment, but I was obviously not that person. He was opening himself up to me, and I wanted to reach inside his armor with both hands and hold on for dear life.
“The weather was shit outside. One of those nights where it was a mix between rain and snow with ice in patches. She apologized for wanting to leave,” he said with a gruff laugh. “Can you believe that? She was telling me she was so sorry that she didn’t feel good. I put my hand on her forehead, and she was burning up. Must have had at least a hundred-degree fever. She was so hot. And I was looking at her, letting her know that the event didn’t matter. I just wanted her to be okay. I was focused on her and not on the road. I just”—he paused for a moment, as if he could see her face clearly in his mind—“couldn’t stop staring at her.”
I had no idea what might be coming next. Obviously, I sensed that there had been an accident, but the details eluded me. I held my breath as I waited for him to continue.
“The car started slipping. I wasn’t even paying attention. And by the time I looked away from Lydia and back at the road, it was too late. I lost control. Hit a patch of black ice, and there was nothing I could do. I tried though. I tried so damn hard to keep us on the pavement,” he said, his voice breaking.
“We rolled down an embankment and hit a tree. That tree stopped us from continuing even farther down the hill. The only reason the car stopped rolling was because of it. That tree broke our fall, but it’s also why my wife died. The impact of hitting it was on her side, and a branch broke through the window, and…” He sucked in a ragged breath before finishing his sentence.
“Tony,” I breathed out, my eyes filled with water.
He could stop now. This was too much for him to relive, and I felt almost guilty for wanting him to share this with me. He still loved the woman he’d lost. He probably always would.
“Don’t, Ava. Don’t say it wasn’t my fault. I killed my wife because I couldn’t fucking stop staring at her.”
Snapping my lips shut, I debated on staying quiet or not, but the way he blamed himself was too much.
“It was an accident. It could have happened even if you were watching nothing but the road.”
“I’m not sure I believe that,” he argued, and I’d known he would. Tony was the kind of guy to take responsibility and wear it like a straitjacket. “I didn’t protect her. I didn’t keep her safe. I took my eyes off the road, and it killed her.”
He bent in half, his hands covering his face, and I watched as his large frame started to shake. This strong man was losing it in front of me, and I knew he’d hate himself for it later. It was the last thing I wanted. Pushing up from the couch, I scooted toward his body and wrapped my arms around his middle and held on tight.
He reached for me then, burying his head against my body as he pulled me onto his lap, his body still slightly convulsing. It might have looked awkward from the outside, the way we were twisted up with one another, but I wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Tony was letting me comfort him.
