“That’s what I do. I told you. I’m just a selfish playboy. And I’m sorry, but in situations like this I revert to type. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“Lies!” The word exploded from her with deadly force. She had suddenly found her strength. As he stood there, looking at her, his expression bland as though he had not just reached inside her chest and reordered all the new, beautiful things she had just discovered, she had found her strength. Her will to stand up to him. Her will to fight.
“You did it to hurt me.”
“Why would I? It’s just that I leave casualties in my wake. It’s what I do.”
“No! It’s what you choose to do!”
“Is there a difference?”
She took a step toward him, feeling fierce. Unafraid. She had nothing to lose. If Andres had been everything, then there was nothing to protect anymore. Because it was all gone.
“It is every difference. You are not at the mercy of this. You have made yourself this. You can blame no one but yourself.”
“I can’t blame the mother who walked out on me and the father who gave up on me?” he asked, his tone even. Far too smooth.
She wanted him broken.
“No. They did not fashion you. You fashioned yourself. You talk of it as though it is part of your legend. An amusing anecdote for you to throw out when it suits you, to put distance between yourself and your accuser. As if I will back away from you if I understand that you’re nothing more than a little boy wishing his mommy would come back and hug him. But I will not,” she said, her voice shaking. “I do not feel sorry for you. Because while your mother left you years ago, and while that certainly hurt you, you have been inflicting wounds upon yourself every day thereafter. That is not her fault. You cannot blame her anymore.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“You are in a hell of your own making! You cannot accept the fact that anyone might stay with you and so you’re intent on pushing everyone who loves you away. Why? Because one woman didn’t love you?”
“The only woman who should have loved me, simply because I was drawing breath, didn’t. That is an entirely different thing. And not only her. My father.”
“So that means you must not be worthy of love? That means that you have to set out to prove that those of us who are foolish enough to care for you are in fact fools? Why do you insist on putting a gun to your own head?”
“I know what I am, that’s all. There is no point in trying to refashion myself in a manner that I am unsuited to.”
“Who says you are unsuited? I have been with you these past weeks and you are suited to me. Until now. Until you dared touch another woman when you swore to me you would not.” Her throat tightened, pain lancing her. “You said that I would be the only one.”
“Yes. And I meant it then. I did. But things change. And that’s the way it is with me. I do not keep my word. I never have.”
“You are a liar.”
“No!” he roared back at her. “It is more than that. I have never kept my word. And in the end? I didn’t even try.”
“What?” The question came out small, weak.
“I told my mother that at the Christmas Eve dinner I would behave myself. That she could allow me out of my room this time. I had made mistakes, so many in years past that my mother had issued a decree I could no longer partake in public events. I could never sit still. I could never listen to instructions. I was a very bad boy. Always. I ruined everything that she did. Every appearance we had to make with the family. She mourned my existence, Zara. My very birth. They should have stopped with Kairos. She knew it. She told me. But that last time...that last time I didn’t even try. I broke my plate on purpose, made a mess of the table setting because I was so angry with her. And when she left I was glad because I would never have to try for her again.”
“Andres...”
“No. Do not look at me with those pitying eyes, Zara. What can you possibly know about it? For years I tried my damnedest. But it was never good enough. So when I stopped trying, I didn’t just stop trying. I did my best to be bad. To move so far past the point of redemption I could never be retrieved from beyond it. That’s the man I am now. I give in freely to my vices. I rejoiced at the loss of my mother because it meant there was no one left to try and control me and I could happily sink into the depths of debauchery. Marry me tomorrow if you want, Zara. But I will never love you. And you will never be able to be certain of my fidelity. How can you be when I will never be certain of it? When I will never do a damn thing to resist my own desires. I spent too many years trying and failing. I would not do it for my mother and I sure as hell won’t do it for you.”