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Anger once more sparking in my gut at the mere thought of it, I looked at Dax, whose jaw was hard. “Do you think she’d really do it? Or do you think she’s just blowing off steam?”
“It’s hard to say.” He paused, twisting his lips. “She’s not a cruel person, but neither were my previous girlfriends who sold their stories. You don’t need to be a shitty person to do something shitty; you just need to feel motivated to do it.”
“And just maybe you being married is giving Mimi that motivation,” I mused, following his train of thought.
He inclined his head. “Maybe.”
One thing was for certain: If the womandaredpull that stunt, I would make her life even more miserable than it already was.
I turned to Raven. “Come on, let’s get whatever mess she created cleaned up.”
After we’d all trashed the broken glasses, righted the upturned coffee table, and cleaned the wine-spill from the living room hardwood floor—which now had a noticeable dent, courtesy of Mimi “playfully” stabbing it with the fireplace poker—Dax and I said our goodbyes to his sister and left the complex. In silence, we returned to his car and fastened our seatbelts.
It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I broke the silence and said, “I felt a little bad for Mimi right up until she made noises about talking to the press.”
He spared me a quick glance. “Felt bad for her?”
“A little,” I repeated, emphatic. “I obviously am pissed that she won’t respect your wishes but, well, we don’t choose who we fall for. It just happens. She doesn’twantto love you—that’s more than obvious. She’d change it if she could.”
“She doesn’t love me, Addison,” he upheld, his tone the verbal equivalent of a hand flick. “Not really.”
I felt my brows dip. “Why do you think that?”
“I don’t think it. I’m certain of it.”
“What makes you so sure, then?”
“You can’t love someone you don’t know. You can think you do, because you have all that room to imagine they have traits they don’t have; that they’ll make the perfect partner. But you only really love the impression of them that exists in your mind.”
I cocked my head. “And you feel that Mimi doesn’t really know you?”
“For years she’s been holding out hope that she could eventually make me succumb to her advances. She’s Gracie’s sister—I’d never go there. Not even in my mind. If Mimi truly knew me, she’d be well-aware of that; she wouldn’t have wasted her time or energy.”
I dipped my chin. “Yeah, that is a good point. But sometimes, we can fool ourselves into believing what brings us most comfort. She needs to believe she has a chance with you, even as she hates herself for wanting that chance. Orneededto believe. It should be past tense now. You marrying me forced her to face the reality of the situation.”
“Is she really facing reality, though? It didn’t seem that way. She may not like that we’re married, but she’s not taking my commitment to you seriously.”
“True,” I realized, thinking on it. “In her mind, you can’t possibly love me, so I’m someone to be pitied and ridiculed. But while she doesn’t buy that you’re committed to me, she can’t shrug it off or ignore it. Because the fact remains that you marriedsomeone, whatever your reason, and that ‘someone’ wasn’t Mimi—thatin and of itself says you don’t want her.”
He sighed. “Things would be easier if she’d long ago accepted that. But she’s always been someone who wants what she can’t or shouldn’t have. And if shedoeseventually get such things, she then stops wanting them.”
I opened my mouth to ask about the little comment Mimi made about Gracie … but then I thought better of it. If he’d thought there was any substance to it, he’d have surely questioned her about it. If I brought it up, there was a chance he might simply get insulted on Gracie’s behalf, feeling I was doubting the deceased woman’s integrity.
“What?” Dax prodded, having noticed I was about to speak.
Thinking fast on my feet, I lied,“I was just wondering if Mimi showed this same interest in you before Gracie died.”
“No, she didn’t,” he replied, switching gears. “I never got the sense that that was where her head was at in those days. So either she hid it well, or this was a later development.”
The weary look on his face made me ache for him. Much as I had more questions, I figured it would be best to let them lie. They weren’t important. Mimi wasn’t important. What mattered right then was somehow lifting his mood.
“Want me to vomit in her purse for you?” I asked, smiling when a surprised chuckle—weak though it was—bubbled out of him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d relish slapping the piss out of her. But a stinging face can be soothed pretty fast and with little effort. The stench of puke clinging to the fibers of your purse, however? Yeah, that doesn’t go away so easily. And I’m all about leaving a lasting impression.”
His lips curving, he gave me a quick glance. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather you weren’t vomiting.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“I would. I want you healthy, not sickly—no matter the reason.”
