I stare at him, unsure how to take this. “What, like sleepwalking?” I say finally. “Why would Nonny think that?”
“Did you try to hurt yourself when you were fifteen?” His voice is low. Despite the question, his eyes betray him. He knows.
I look away. “Yes. I was desperate.”
And I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I could traumatize my body somehow and make myself inhospitable to the baby inside me…
A tight knot clogs my throat, and I swallow. I can’t continue. I’m ashamed and conflicted about what I did. Having the baby would’ve been the height of madness. I was fifteen, didn’t know who the father was, and couldn’t have taken care of it. And I would’ve disappointed, even crushed, my parents—especially my mom, who thought I could do no wrong. But there are times I feel deep sorrow for the little life that was…unwanted through no fault of its own.
His gaze soft, Elliot reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He knows me so well.
I keep my head lowered. “But it was. If I hadn’t drunk so much…”
“No.” His voice hardens. “It wasn’t. I won’t let you blame yourself. The only bad guy is the prick who took advantage of a young, drunken girl. Not you.”
“But what if I wanted to?” I ask in a whisper. “What if I did say yes…or even came on to the guy…but just don’t remember?” That night is one big blank. I’m never going to know what happened.
“When someone’s too drunk to recall what happened, she can’t give consent,” Elliot says flatly. “You were a victim. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I raise my head so I can look him in the eyes. “But I’m hurting my sister.”
“She saw you toss yourself down the stairs. She thinks you do it when you’re stretched thin and feel stressed out. She thought you might’ve gotten to that point again recently, especially after Tiffany’s little stunt at dinner.”
Suddenly I feel chilled despite the warm sunlight pouring over us. “I see.”
“Come here.” He pulls me onto his lap, my back pressed flush against his torso. His body heat envelopes me, heating me from the outside in. “I’m only telling you this so you can decide what you want to do about the situation, not to make you relive an ugly memory or blame yourself for any of it. You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to. I already told her I’d watch over you so she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”
His sweet thoughtfulness brings tears to my eyes. Does he know how he’s pulling me deeper into him? He’s made it clear he doesn’t want anything permanent with me…
We have an expiration date, but I’m beginning to wish that time would stop.
“If I ever find out who did it…”
I don’t have to see his expression to know that there’s a promise of violent retribution etched onto his face. It’s in the cold, granite tone of his voice.
Shifting I put my cheek over his heart. It beats a little too fast. I close my eyes. “Let’s not talk about ugly things,” I say softly. “It’s a beautiful day, and I’m happy being here with you.” The words slip out, but I’m not saying them just to placate him. I mean it.
For the first time since my parents were gunned down, I’m truly content and happy. Elliot strokes my hair, placing a kiss on the crown of my head, and I let myself go boneless with a small smile.
* * *
Annabelle
By Friday, Nonny looks much more rested and it’s like nothing ever happened. The brand new fitted red baby-tee and denim shorts make her appear just like any other kid in her class. Her bounce is back, the high ponytail swinging with every step. She gives me a tight hug before leaving for school, her white and navy blue Chucks loud on the hardwood floor as she hurries out to catch the bus.
I still haven’t talked to her about her worries. I should, but I haven’t figured out the right approach.
“She needs to learn how to drive,” Elliot muses as he polishes off his eggs. He’s in a loose blue Superman shirt and cargo shorts, bare feet hooked on the bottom rung of his stool.
“I don’t know,” I say, running my hand down my sleeveless pale beige dress with a blue and purple butterfly print. When Elliot’s shopper Josephine Martinez sent it, I thought it would look bad on me, but it is actually quite cool and sophisticated.
“She’s old enough. I’ll arrange for it. She can’t ride the school bus all the time.”
I frown as my caffeinated brain does some quick math on how much it’s going to cost to buy her a car.
He gets up and presses a quick kiss on my mouth. “Stop worrying about money. It’s my prerogative to spoil my sister-in-law.” He dumps his plate and mug in the sink. I don’t think he knows how to open the dishwasher. “By the way, I arranged for a spa for you today.”