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He ran a hand over his damp hair. “I didn’t want anyone to have to wonder ever again where their daughter was at two in the morning.”
“Or their mother,” I said softly.
“I’ve never been able to understand how that was the same person who seemed to love my mom so much.”
“People have secrets. Maybe especially those you wouldn’t think did.”
“What about you, Miss Armstrong? Any secrets?”
“I had one. Now it’s splashed all over the internet.”
He was quiet for a moment, sipping his champagne. “I figured you’d be married by now.”
“The one person I gave my trust to betrayed me,” I said. “Seems to be a theme in my life.”
“We’re a couple of romantics, huh?”
“Our parents both found someone wonderful. They were able to trust again after all that. I don’t know how, though.”
“It’s possible we haven’t met the right person.”
I smiled, as an image of the two of us exchanging rings we’d made of grass came to mind. “Do you remember our wedding?”
He barked out a laugh. “I’d forgotten about that. How old were we?”
“Nine, I think. At the time I took it very seriously and was annoyed when my mom told me no, I could not move into your bedroom. Can you imagine? Nine years old and thinking I was old enough to get married.”
“I don’t remember anything except our ceremony,” Atticus said. “Out by the old oak, with the porch swing.”
“I remember a lot. More than I probably should.”
“Why do you say that?” Atticus asked.
“I don’t know. I dwell on those happy years a lot. Even given how it all turned out. Those times with you and your family are precious memories. This place haunts me, even though I love it. I need to exorcise some demons while I’m here.”
“I could take you out to the cemetery,” Atticus said. “If you think that would help.”
“Do you ever go there to visit your dad?”
“Heck no. I have no reason to do anything to honor his memory. As far as I’m concerned, Jasper Moon is my dad. Rex Sharp is just a stranger, a corpse in a cemetery no one cares to remember.”
Anger radiated from him. He might not have moved past all of it as thoroughly as he believed he had.
“Don’t look at me that way,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“I know.”
“I came back here to live, so obviously I’ve moved on from it all,” he said, a humorous lilt to his voice.
“Right. Perfectly fine.”
“I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” Atticus said. “My anger kept me from losing my mind back then. Still does.”
“I understand.”
“I know you do,” Atticus said. “Better than anyone else in the world.”
The champagne was almost gone from my glass. I couldn’t decide if it was that or the proximity of this gorgeous man that had made me lightheaded.
