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“Yeah, you’re practically Hitler.”
I give a half-laugh, in spite of my misery. “I am. I don’t deserve you.”
“I’m hardly a saint, Missie. Come here.”
“You should go…”
“Come here,” he scolds. “Do as you’re told.”
He speaks so firmly that I let him pull me back. He turns me so I can bury my face in his neck and wraps me in his arms. “There, there,” he soothes, rubbing my back. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not. I’m going to hell.”
“You’re far too pretty for that.”
“Don’t make me laugh. I’m a horrible person.”
He sighs again. “Missie, you’re hardly the first person to say something you regret in the middle of an argument. He provoked you, and you lashed out. You didn’t cause the accident. It’s natural to feel conflicting emotions. He was violent toward you, and it doesn’t sound as if he put you first at any point. He cheated on you, and he gaslighted you, which is unforgivable. But he was your husband, and Finn’s father, and you must have loved him, or why would you have stayed with him so long?”
His shirt is soaked now, but still the tears flow. “I’m so angry,” I say in between sobs.
“Of course you are.”
“I waited for a year because I felt so guilty.”
He kisses my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“You’ve nothing to feel sorry about. You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”
His endearment warms me. I fall quiet then, taking big, shivery breaths as my sobs die away. He holds me, propping his feet on the coffee table, and strokes my back and hair.
It’s dark outside now. The only light comes from the gas fire and the fairy lights on the tree. I can smell Alex’s cologne mixed with the warm natural scent of his skin that sends the hairs prickling on my neck.
Gradually, my whirling emotions settle like snow.
Alex is right. People often say things they regret when they argue. You want to hurt the other person the way they’re hurting you, and you lash out. I didn’t mean that I wished Lee was dead, of course I didn’t. And I didn’t cause the accident. It’s not my fault that he died, or that Finn was injured.
In a way, learning that Lee was having an affair has lifted a huge weight off me. I wasn’t going mad. Even though it spiraled out of control, I was right to question him. He should have been honest with me and admitted it—it was wrong of him to deny it and make me feel as if I was crazy. He was going to leave me for the woman in the car. Sarah Pickford, that was her name. The police told me she was married and had two young children. From what Finn says, she didn’t want to leave her family before Christmas. Would she have left afterward? I guess I’ll never know.
I do feel resentful that I’ve felt so guilty this year. It’s definitely made me hold back from Alex. But in a way, I’ve enjoyed getting to know him slowly. I lift my head and turn to look at him. He surveys me, patient and calm, his gaze gently caressing my face.
“Panda eyes?” I query.
He tips his head from side to side and smiles. “A beautiful panda.”
“Lee never called me beautiful.”
He frowns at that. “His behavior left a lot to be desired.” It’s such an Alex thing to say that it makes me giggle, and his expression turns wry. “What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
He strokes my face. “Do you feel better now?”
“Maybe a bit.”
“I’m glad. You’ve been through such a lot. And you’ve coped so well. You shouldn’t feel bad.”
