“I’m trying to tell you I married you knowing what I’m up against. I just need you to need this as badly as I do. To give us a chance.”
But was he being completely fair to her? What he needed was a home of his own. A place to belong. And could he ever find that with her? If she couldn’t trust him?
“I’ve realized, Gabi helped me see, that in my previous relationships, I always chose men who had other priorities in their lives. I don’t ever date men who might actually be serious enough about me to form a lifetime bond. Or at least, not serious enough at that time in their lives...”
He had no idea where this was going. And was still relieved. She was talking to him. Really talking.
“I think I did that, subconsciously, to protect myself from ever having to make the choice to commit to someone. I did it so I’d never be put in a position where I’d have to trust someone that completely...”
That sounded more accurate than her mother’s version—that Marie just didn’t make good choices where men were concerned.
“With you, it was different. It was like I didn’t have a choice to trust you or not. I just...did.”
They were the best words he’d ever heard. Until he realized that she’d been speaking in the past. And knew what he’d done by his bad gamble for good reasons. What he’d destroyed.
“That’s what love does, Gabi said. But I already knew in my heart what she was telling me. I was in love with you. Trust grew naturally from that.”
Past tense. Still past tense. He was waiting for the present to catch up with them.
“When I called my dad to tell him we were married, I told him that I was worried about the baggage I carried—the fear of being hurt like my mother was—by giving my ultimate trust and having it betrayed. He told me that women are gifted with this instinct to know when we’re being lied to. On some level, we’ll just know.”
“I can tell you that in my business, I’ve seen more than one occasion when a woman’s instinct has prevented danger. Or led authorities to a place they needed to be in an investigation.”
He was so much taller than she was. Wanted to sit down. To meet her eye-to-eye.
To know that he could stay awhile.
“I told myself that I would be fine. That we would be fine.”
So maybe this was going to be okay. Marie had to go around the block, to get all nuances in the telling. He was a guy who liked the full picture. Even if, in the moment, the waiting was excruciating.
“But then I found out that you’d lied to me, and I didn’t have any instinct about it at all...”
He searched for something to say and came up blank.
“I’ve finally realized something.” She met his gaze head-on, and that was when Elliott knew that the train was barreling down, coming straight at him. Full speed...
“I don’t have the ability to discern whether or not someone is lying to me. I looked you in the eye. I opened my heart. I was certain I could feel your heart. And I had no idea, that night we got married, or anytime during the week afterward, that you were hiding something from me. You made a deliberate choice to do so—and I’m speaking from Vegas on—and I had absolutely no idea. Then Saturday night I see your name on the news as the escort of a beautiful woman—not her bodyguard, her escort—and the original lie plays through my mind and... The other guys I dated, I’m sure now that part of why I went out with them was because they felt safe to me in that they weren’t going to ask me for more of a commitment than I felt safe giving. But still, when they lied to me... I had no idea. The rodeo guy was the only one I saw through, but only because Gabi and I talked and it was obvious that he was lying to us. Until then, I’d believed him.
“And even my own mother... She hid you from me, and I had no idea. Surely, if your mother is hiding something that intense from you, you’d have some inkling...”
In a way, Marie’s speech comforted Elliott. She was trusting him with her real thoughts again. But he also knew it wasn’t going to end well.
She stood away from the counter. So did he.
Toe-to-toe with him, she said, “It’s not just you I don’t trust, Elliott. That’s what I’ve been forced to see head-on. It’s myself. And until I figure out how I live with that, without driving myself and everyone else crazy, I have nothing to give anyone.”
He took it on the chin. At least on the outside.
“Would you agree to leave our marriage intact until you’ve had some time to think everything through?”
What he thought he might be buying himself, he didn’t know. But time was better than nothing.
“I can’t sleep in the same bed with you right now.”
“I understand.”
“You’re asking me not to file for divorce.”