Finally he turned around to face her. “You never remember the good, Ava. You never remember what I did right. You only remember what I did wrong. And you’re right. We did fight that night, and I put you into the cab after our fight and I let you leave in tears. I watched you go after we exchanged harsh words and our world has never been the same. We have never been the same. And I blame myself, every single day. Every day. Especially when I’m with our boy and he looks up at me with dark brown eyes that are your eyes, and he asks me about you with this grave expression that is so you, and he wonders where you are. Where his mama is. And it slays me, every single day, Ava. Every day, I ask God to forgive me for being caught off guard that night, for not celebrating your pregnancy the way I should have celebrated the life we made. I am sorry. And I’ve told you I am sorry so many times but you never remember.”
He dragged a hand across his face, rubbing across his eyes and then down to his jaw. “And I’ve tried, I’ve tried to make it right and I can’t. And I don’t know how else to make it better but I do love him. And I love you—”
“Now,” she whispered faintly. “You love me now.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t love me then.”
His jaw worked, tightening, then easing. “I must have because I have fought for you every day since.”
“But that night…the night of the accident…you didn’t love me. Did you?”
“Does it matter?”
She set the champagne down. “I loved you.”
He stared at her and she could tell he didn’t know what to say. Which was maybe a good thing. She didn’t know what to say, either.
“This is why we’re not together,” she murmured, speaking more to herself then him. “This is the reason. Not Jack. I love Jack.” She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. “I have always loved Jack. I have always wanted to protect him. But you…you wanted me to get rid of him. You wanted me to end the pregnancy.”
“That night, that fight, is three and a half years ago. I have been a father every night since then, at your side when you were in a coma, there the night they delivered Jack. I cut his umbilical cord. I walked with him every night when he was a five pound newborn. I fed him every two hours for three months until he could manage to sleep in four hour stretches. I do regret my words, but its time you focused on my actions. I do love Jack, and I do love you. But you don’t remember any of that, either.”
She struggled to her feet. “You speak with so much scorn.”
“You’re not the only one who is tired, Ava. I’m tired, too. This is hard. Making this work, it’s not always easy. I’ve waited months to try again with you, but it’s tough when you fling a past that is three and a half years old in my face.”
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Her thoughts raced so fast it was impossible to pick the right words. Instead, she clenched and unclenched her hands. If she could run, she’d run. She’d run far away from here. But her body didn’t run anymore and her mind wasn’t what it used to be. She didn’t know how to be clever or evasive. She was just who she was.
Damaged. Broken. Flawed.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she said, heart thudding so hard she felt like throwing up.
“Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t remember, and I’m sorry I’m stuck in the past. I wish I had more memories, newer memories, but there’s that break…the before, and after. I remember mostly the before.”
“Please don’t apologize.”
“I have to. I’m ashamed—”
“Christ, Ava, please, please don’t say that.” He went to her, swiftly closing the distance and he pulled her against him. “Say anything but that.”
She closed her eyes as his arms went around her. He felt familiar but unfamiliar and this time she knew why.
She loved him.
She hated him.
She needed him.
She couldn’t bear to be with him.
He made her hurt. He made her ache. He made her wish she’d never met him…
Chapter Eight
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Colm went to the table and picked up her flute and handed it back to her. “Come, sit down. There’s no point in fighting. It’s not going to accomplish anything.”
Her chin jerked up and she stared at him defiantly. “Don’t be condescending.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to salvage the evening. It was supposed to be a nice evening. I was hoping to create some good memories for you.”
She drew a quick breath and then exhaled slowly. “With any luck, I won’t remember tonight.” And then she made a face. “That was a joke.”
He smiled crookedly. “I know. And it was a good one.”
“But knowing my luck, I won’t forget.”
“Another joke.”