She’d told herself the same thing, in a hundred different ways, but it felt so good to hear her own rationalizations coming from his lips. “Because I didn’t believe her, and because nobody believed me when I said my ex was abusive and controlling, I tend to over-believe what women say about their men.”
Carrick sat up slowly, his eyes fixed on her face. “So that’s why you instinctively believed everything bad you heard about me?”
Sadie nodded slowly. “Have you ever not been believed, Carrick?” Then Sadie remembered that he’d never explained his view of his marriage. He simply didn’t put himself in the position of needing to be being believed or questioned.
Sadie plowed on.
“I told my family. They said I was exaggerating. My dad said I was being melodramatic and my mom agreed. The day after I told them how bad my marriage was, how awful Dennis was to me, my dad accepted tickets to watch a Red Sox game with him. I told my sister, only to later hear that she and my mom had long conversations about me, trying to work out how they could get me to see a psychologist. They staged an intervention, saying I was obviously troubled. And not thinking straight.”
Carrick stared at her, horrified.
Sadie rested her chin on her knee and Carrick gripped her ankle. Sadie instantly felt calmer and more grounded. “I told some friends, but somehow my words always got back to Dennis and the abuse intensified. Our friends started to shun me, my own friends didn’t believe me and my family wanted me to get psychological help. But I still went back to them. I still kept trying to drink from that well. And every time they dismissed my feelings, every time they defended Dennis, I felt like I was reexperiencing the emotional abuse.”
“I’m so sorry, Sadie.”
“I haven’t spoken to any of my family since the divorce,” Sadie admitted.
Carrick’s hand briefly tightened on her ankle. “Your choice or theirs?”
“Both, I suppose. I never contacted them after the papers were signed and they’ve never reached out, either. I’ve heard that Dennis still stays in contact with them, that he’s a frequent visitor to my parents’ and siblings’ houses. He spent last Thanksgiving with them.”
“He hijacked your family. And your friends,” Carrick said, and Sadie heard the anger in his voice. He met her eyes and she saw the buzz of fury in that light gaze. “Seriously, the guy needs to have his features rearranged and I’d be happy to do it.”
Sadie smiled. Call her bloodthirsty, but she’d love to see that.
Carrick’s expression turned pensive. “Maybe you should reach out to your family, Sadie. Check in to let them know you are fine.”
She’d thought about doing that, especially since she had a child on the way, but she was scared. Didn’t she have a right to be? She’d been disappointed by her family so often that she didn’t want to admit she was pregnant from a one-night stand and going to be a single mother.
She was already the black sheep; this news would upgrade her to scarlet status.
But as much as she wished she could treat their reaction lightly, seeing their disappointment would just be another deep rip in a spirit that had yet to heal.
Why do that to herself? No, it was easier to keep her distance, to assume they were disappointed in her rather than confront them and have their disappointment confirmed.
“I’m sorry no one believed you, Sades,” Carrick said, his voice a deep rumble. “I promise to always—”
Sadie held up her hand, her slashing movements cutting off his words. “Please don’t promise something you can’t deliver, Carrick.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t bear it.”
Carrick ran his hand over her hair, down the back of her neck. “I’m going to do my best not to disappoint you, Sadie.”
At another time in her life, in another incarnation, those words would’ve caused a warm fire in her belly. Today, here and now, it terrified her to think he’d be yet another person who kicked and bruised her heart.
That battered organ couldn’t withstand any more abuse.
Sadie, her head on Carrick’s chest, lifted her eyes to the painting above her head and released an annoyed sigh. Despite spending more hours on researching the painting than she should, she was still no closer to discovering who the artist was or why it felt so familiar.
For someone who prided herself on her extensive knowledge about art and artists, the puzzle was deeply frustrating.
“Welcome to my world,” Carrick said, his hand sliding down her bare back.
“What’s that?” Sadie asked, unable to pull her eyes from the painting. Who else used those tiny splashes of red, the flash of a reflection in the water, the hint of yellow in the sky?
“That painting will drive you nuts,” Carrick told her, amusement coating every word. “Just accept that you will never know who painted it or why.”
“Not happening,” Sadie told him. Dropping her head, she looked at the smiling face of the naked man she lay on top of. Stretching, she brushed her lips against his, her nipples dragging across his chest. Sadie liked the fact that his eyes went foggy so she did it again and Carrick’s fingers dug into the skin on her butt.
Yeah, waking up with Murphy was a spectacular way to start the day.