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He doesn’t turn to see who entered. He mutters, “I don’t need dinner or another lecture.”
“Well, you clearly need something,” I say tartly. “Because this is ridiculous.”
His reaction to my voice is dramatic. He jerks so much he slops some of the whiskey in his glass. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.” With a surge of confidence, I walk over and sit down beside him on the couch.
Recovered from his surprise, he leans forward again like he’s not even allowing himself to get comfortable. His skin is damp with a sheen of perspiration and his hair is loose, wildly rumpled. His scar stands out starkly in the orange light of the fire. “I don’t need checking on.”
“Everyone who knows you would disagree with that assessment.”
His mouth curls up in a faint snarl. “Can a man not be left alone for an evening?”
“You’ve been left alone for two weeks. In fact, you’ve been left alone for most of your life. Look what it’s done for you. Absolutely nothing.”
He exhales deeply, swirling the liquid in his glass. He hasn’t looked at me directly since I entered. “Scarlett.”
“Yes?”
“Please go away.”
“No.”
He blinks and slowly turns his head toward me. His brown eyes glint in the flickering light.
I arch my eyebrows. “I’m not going away. If you don’t want to talk, we can just sit here all night and say nothing.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I think there is.”
“I thought you understood—”
“I understood what you were trying to tell me by pushing me away, but I don’t accept it. You shouldn’t either. It can’t be the right decision if it makes you this miserable.”
“I’m not—”
“Youaremiserable. Arthur, give me a little credit for having a brain. When I first moved here, you mostly kept to yourself, but you weren’t all broody like this. You were kind of standoffish but also thoughtful and polite. You never rebuffed me or Stella or Billy. You weren’t likethis.”
His jaw works tightly. His shoulders are visibly tense. He sucks in a breath, then glances at me and releases it again.
“Just say it, Arthur.”
“It’s easier...” He makes a huffing sound and clears his throat. “It was easier before I knew what I was missing.”
It takes a few moments for his words to process in my mind. Then I make a guttural sound of surprise and sympathy.
He takes a swallow of whiskey, staring at the fire. “I’ve been alone almost all my life. But it’s been ages since I’ve felt this lonely.”
“Oh my God, Arthur, you’re not alone now! You don’t have to be lonely.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t. I’m sitting right here.”
“I know that,” he rasps. “But that makes it worse. Not better.”
That would have hurt had I not known what he meant. “It’s not wrong.”
