‘Why?’ he asked at last. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the boy’s existence?’ The words were clipped, his frustration clear, but unfortunately I didn’t have a straight answer for him.
‘I’m sorry,’ I apologised again. ‘I should have contacted you a long—’
‘I don’t want an apology.’ He cut in. ‘I want to know why. Is it because you weren’t sure if I was the father?’
The hurt at his mistrust of me was like a blow. So we were back to that again. I hated that he was forcing me to admit again how vulnerable I had been that night, but I refused to be defensive.
‘I told you, you were my first lover,’ I replied.
‘So you say, but you didn’t behave like a virgin. You were so...’ His gaze seared my skin, the memories pounding back to life.
‘I was so what?’ I said. ‘So un-virgin-like?’
‘So responsive, so eager.’ He growled the words as if they were an insult. But my stupid body didn’t take the comment as an insult. Instead the husky rasp made the fire inside me spark and spit.
‘How many women have an orgasm their first time?’ he added. ‘Unless you faked that too?’
I leapt out of the chair. ‘You bastard. I didn’t fake anything. I enjoyed it. I wanted it. I wanted you. I’d wanted to find out what all the fuss about sex was for a long time,’ I added quickly, in case he read too much into that bald statement. The truth was I hadn’t wanted sex with anyone. I’d wanted Alexi to be my first, had dreamed about what it would be like, and he had not disappointed me. I hadn’t just had one orgasm, I’d had several. But I’d be damned if I’d compliment him on his performance when he was already holding my response against me.
‘If I was really your first, why didn’t you tell me that?’ he countered and I wanted to scream. ‘Don’t all women want their first lover to know?’
‘Of course not,’ I shot back. ‘You’ve obviously never been a nineteen-year-old girl. The last thing I wanted was for you to know I’d never done it before.’ Duh. ‘You were gorgeous and sophisticated and six years older than me. I’d had a massive crush on you for as long as I could remember. I wanted you to see me as a woman. Not a little girl.’
‘You didn’t bleed,’ he said, still interrogating me.
The anger I’d carefully held at bay ripped through me to join the riot of inappropriate hormonal responses.
‘So what? I don’t have to prove my virginity to you. I don’t actually care whether you believe I was a virgin or not. I only told you because I wanted you to know how I knew Cai was your son.’
We were talking in circles, I realised. Pointless circles. I already knew I would never be able to break through the wall of cynicism that made him believe every woman was a cheat, an actress, a liar. And I had not come here to try.
‘But what about Remy?’ he said. ‘You expect me to believe you didn’t sleep with him when he loved you and you say you loved him?’
‘It was never like that between us—we were just friends.’ I wanted to say we’d been like brother and sister, but that would have been doing a disservice to our friendship. Remy and I had never fought, never argued. Unlike siblings, there had been no rivalry between us, only support and love. We had always had each other’s backs, had always been there for each other. God, I wished he was here for me right now, so he could knock some sense into his brother.
‘Don’t make me laugh. No man would be able to love you like he did and not want to take that friendship...’ he made sarcastic air quotes, making the anger thrum in my chest ‘...to its logical conclusion.’
‘Unless he was a gay man,’ I said.
‘What?’ he croaked.
Guilt ripped into me and I sat down again. I hadn’t intended to tell him about Remy so cold-bloodedly... I hadn’t even really considered telling him at all. Why would I reveal Remy’s secret now when I had respected my friend’s privacy for so long? But I hadn’t expected to be subjected to an inquisition about my virginity.
Why was Alexi so hung up about that detail of our liaison?
‘I’m sorry,’ I said grudgingly but, as I watched the truth he had never acknowledged about his brother cross his face, the guilt blossomed under my breastbone.
I had always known this would be hard for Alexi—finding out his brother had never confided in him, discovering that their relationship had not been as close as he’d thought—but I couldn’t hold on to the lies a moment longer.
‘Remy was gay,’ I reiterated, the anger fading and leaving me shaky and sad. ‘He had his first boyfriend when he was fourteen. He never wanted me in that way because he didn’t desire women.’
I sunk into the chair, suddenly exhausted. I’d got up at four that morning, left my child sleeping and been on a knife-edge of stress for days, but that wasn’t what was making my bones feel so weary. It was the renewed flicker of compassion as I watched the bone-deep regret cross Alexi’s face.
‘But if that’s true, why didn’t he tell me?’ he whispered. ‘Did he think I would reject him? That I would love him any less? That I was some kind of narrow-minded bigot?’
I hadn’t wanted to reopen this raw wound. Alexi was probably still beating himself up about Remy’s death, because that was the kind of man he was, jealously guarding his pain so he didn’t have to share it with anyone, or show any weakness.
‘No, of course not,’ I said. ‘Remy knew you loved him, because he knew all about the abuse you took from Gustavo to protect him.’