“That’s not true.” Her body wasn’t in line with her head. Her body had relaxed the second he’d put his arms around her, going soft and sleepy again.
Because she was safe.
“I don’t know about that,” he said with a long sigh. “I’m not good with the whole teenage-girl stuff.”
She could imagine he was made distinctly uncomfortable by certain parts of raising a daughter. “Somehow I think she’ll find her way. She seems to have a lot of friends and she’s good at utilizing her resources.”
“I’m hoping you’ll be a good resource for her. I know she was excited to have a doctor she wasn’t going to be embarrassed talking to. It’s good to have someone to talk to.”
“I dream about what happened.” She hadn’t meant to say the words, but they came out as though she couldn’t keep them in anymore, as though they didn’t have a place to hide in the sweet, happy world she’d found in this bed and this man.
“Of course you do, chère.” His hand moved over her flesh, stroking her with easy affection. “You go through what you went through and it sticks to you the rest of your life. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”
She was quiet for a moment, the silence oddly comfortable. It should be awkward. They were new to the lovers thing, but it felt . . . right. Normal. Like they’d been here a hundred times and it was her right to take comfort from him. “Sometimes in the dream I look down and I’m the one dying on the floor. He wouldn’t let me help her. He shot at me when I tried to stop the bleeding.”
His arms tightened around her. “I can’t imagine how hard that was on you.”
It had been the hardest moment she’d ever faced. That one moment was beginning to define her life. If she wasn’t careful, she might be attempting to atone for a moment she couldn’t control for the rest of her life. Sometimes she closed her eyes and couldn’t see anything but Maryanne.
“I could have saved her. I was in a trauma room. We would go in there when we needed a couple of minutes of peace. We would get to take a breather and we would talk. Even a couple of minutes helped. I was the one who talked her into leaving her husband. I know that was the right thing to do. I know it in my head, but there’s a part of me that thinks she would be alive if I’d left things alone.”
“He was physically abusive?”
“Oh, yes. He was good at hiding it, or rather Maryanne was, but he beat her on a regular basis. It was more than physical abuse. He tried to isolate her. He bullied her constantly. We were friends for seven years and I watched her go from a scared mouse to a woman who valued herself. It was a long road. She got out and he still killed her. Should I have left her alone? Would she be alive if I had?”
“Probably not.”
It was soothing that he didn’t make a big deal out of this conversation even though it was a big deal. He didn’t turn on the light or force her to sit up and look him in the eyes. He held her and let her wrap herself around him like he was the best teddy bear ever.
“That’s what I tell myself. He wouldn’t have stopped. I wanted to get her out of the situation before they had kids,” she explained.
His hand moved up and down her back. “Lila, you have to know you did everything you could. And that it’s normal to feel guilty. You survived. Your friend didn’t. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel it.”
No “You’re crazy. It wasn’t your fault.” No “How can you possibly think that way?” Just a steady “Of course you do.”
He understood her.
“I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I should have been able to fight through the man with the gun to save her. I didn’t think I would sit there, afraid for my own life.”
He kissed her forehead. “Because you are not the type of woman who ever puts herself first, and that’s something we’re going to deal with. Tu es mon raison d’être, chérie.”
“I get the feeling you are saying things you think I’m not ready to hear yet.”
“Tu es la plus intelligente femme que je connaisse.” He kissed the top of her head and sighed, a contented sound. “I want to forget the things we said at the café. Can we erase that part of the day? I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
She could forgive him. That part was simple. “Of course, and I’m sorry, too. But, Armie, I’m still not going to fit in the way you need me to.”