“I’m not fucking embarrassed,” I say, lifting my head. Ashamed, yes. Not embarrassed.
“You’re not?”
“And why would you be surprised?” I go on, too pissed at myself to hold back. “I haven’t had sex in months, and I sleep next to you every night, and you’re about the most beautiful, desirable, irresistible woman I’ve ever seen. I fucked you one time, and I can never have you again. So yeah, kissing you makes me hard, and if that makes me a fucking monster, then that’s what I am.”
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. 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, but you already know I’m not. I did the same and worse just last night.”
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 your wife. 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. I hurt you, Eliza. You said it yourself. I can’t fix it. It’s too late. If he’s not the one who hurt you before, 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, facing her squarely. “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.”
“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. Last night, I hurt her in another way, and I won’t add love to the list of ways I’ve wronged her. 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. “No.”
She stares at me. “Not even if I could?”
“Tell your father you want an annulment,” I say. “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. 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 I can’t have it. I’ll be ashamed of how much I want her after what I did, and she’ll feel bad that she can’t give it, and I’ll 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. I didn’t save her last night.
I attacked her.