She stares at me another minute, the air so still between us that I can hear the honk of a car on the street below, a dog barking, someone yelling. “You still want me?” she asks at last. “In that way? How?”
“Did you not hear the part about how you married a monster?” I ask, pushing away from the counter.
“It’s just… After what I told you, I didn’t think you’d see me like that. You were looking at me like I was damaged goods. Something to be pitied. Not…”
“Not fucked?” I ask.
She swallows, dropping her gaze.
“Thathappenedto you, but it’s not you,” I say. “It doesn’t change how much I want you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t see you like that, as sexy, and I know that. You don’t want to be anyone’s sex object. I know seeing you that way makes me no better than the people who did that to you, so I guess I’m not.”
She just stares at me with those clear, whiskey eyes all wide and shocked, like she’s just realizing what she’s stuck with for the rest of her life. I can’t stand it any longer, so I turn away and go to our bedroom. I grab my gun, check the chamber and the safety, and shove it into my belt. When I turn, Eliza is lingering in the doorway.
I don’t want to push her aside, but I can’t be here with her. I thought I could be a better man, that I could do this job and still be a good man, but now I know that being a good man has nothing to do with this job. I thought the sum total of a man’s worth was whether he chooses right or wrong more often, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s a single moment, a single choice. The choice to hurt a little girl. The choice to stay even knowing you can’t be anything other than what you are, or to walk away before you hurt someone who’s already been hurt more than anyone should.
We stand there staring at each other for a long minute. My chest tightens, my throat, my hold on myself. I lost myself for a minute, lost sight of what I had to do.
“Say something,” she says softly, an edge of pleading in her voice.
“I’m going to work,” I say. “When I get home, you should be gone.”
“What?” she asks, her eyes widening with shock and… Hurt.
I swallow before forcing the words out. No one ever said doing the right thing was easy. Usually, it’s the opposite.
“You should go home,” I say.
“I am home.”
“Back to your father. If he’s not the one who hurt you, that’s where you’ll be safest. You shouldn’t be here. I’m not safe.”
“You’re wrong,” she says, stepping into the room.
I move away, edging toward the door. But then I stop. I won’t run like a coward. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought I could be the man you deserve. You deserve someone who thinks only of you, not himself. But I’m not that man.”
“I never asked for a saint,” she says. “And don’t tell me what I deserve.”
“You deserve love,” I say simply.
“And you can’t do that?” she asks. It’s the hope in her voice, her eyes, that destroys me. I promised I’d never hurt her by letting her love me. I let this go way too far. It’s time to stop it before I hurt her more. Because I will. I press my lips together, my sternum aching like I just took a punch to it, and I shake my head.
It’s not what I want. What I want to do is close the distance between us, sweep her into my arms, and kiss her. But then what? Then I’ll want more, and she’ll feel bad that she can’t give it, and I’ll resent her and hate myself more. I’ve fucked up so many times, but I don’t want to be the same man I was six months ago. I want to learn from my mistakes, to see more clearly. I couldn’t save my sister. I couldn’t save Eliza from what happened to her before we met. But I can save her now. I can save her from myself.
“Tell your father you want an annulment,” I say. “We never consummated the marriage, so it should be easy enough. Tell him I can’t get it up or whatever you have to say to get out of it. Al owes me, so he’ll be okay with it. He’ll find someone else, someone better for you, so the families will still be united. And it’ll be like this never happened.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but then she closes it. She blinks a few times, swallows, then nods. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
It’s the last thing in the world I want, but it’s what she needs.
I stand there for a minute, not knowing what to do, how to say goodbye. Or maybe the truth is that I don’t want to say goodbye at all. I’ve never cared about a girl the way I care about her.
At last, I hold out a hand. “It’s been an honor being your husband.”
She stares at my hand, then turns her face up to mine, her eyes flashing. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You want me to shake your hand?”
I drop my hand, not sure what else to do.
“You know what?” she says. “Fuck you, King. This isn’t about what I deserve. This is about the fact that you can’t handle what I told you, and you’re weak like all men, and you can’t survive without having someone to stick your dick in. I told you to get a mistress. It’s not my fault you’re too proud.”