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How in all his uncomfortably detailed reports had David failed to mention that until now?
“Why do you think Nick always needed stuff from the storeroom at the garage? Or needed long lunches on a Thursday?” David asks, lips twisting. “We had an ‘arrangement’.” He makes quotes in the air with his fingers.
“Ew,” I wrinkle my nose. “I worked in that storeroom.”
“Oh, shut up,” he laughs. “Anyway, things grew from there. Nick, of course, was such a player it went against his every fiber. Don’t think I didn’t love him all the more for it. But he was still insisting we were casual right up to the altar.”
I hear what David’s saying. That things can start in one form and grow into another. No matter how you might try to steer them in the opposite direction. But, unfortunately, I know how Nick and David’s story ended.
“And now, you’re heartbroken,” I say gently.
David nods solemnly. He swallows and I see his fingers tighten on his cup.
“Yes, I am,” he admits, before leaning toward me. His eyes are intense. “But the point is, Lizzie. Even with hindsight, I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.”
