“You’re here instead of her. What do you think?”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to be overbearing or control her life. She’s an adult, as you’ve so aptly pointed out. She can make up her own mind. But if she’s a novelty to you… I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“You got hurt.” He didn’t know why he was arguing. She’d made her point. He agreed. Except he didn’t. He agreed with Susan, and not only for his own selfish reasons.
“I did. And it sucked so hard.”
“But you lived. And you learned. And you grew. And you’re here to debate with me now. I realize some things hurt more than others. I don’t plan on being on that list. If you’re giving me this kind of grief, what have you said to your dad?” Whoa. Where did that come from?
Her wide eyes said she wondered the same thing. “Nothing? Off topic much?”
“Not if we’re talking about things that have the potential to wreck Susan’s day. She hasn’t told you.” He should have known she was keeping potential roadblocks to her future plans to herself.
“Told me what? She asked me a couple of questions about why I left, because you were running your mouth.”
“Because he’s going to kick her out if she pursues dancing.”
Mercy’s jaw dropped. “I— No. He’s learned.”
“You’d know better than me. Do you believe it?”
“God damn it.” She clenched her hand into a fist.
He was tired of arguing. “I meant it, when I said I’m not interested in corrupting her. She’s there on her own, but that’s a different story. I don’t want to see her hurt, and if this was a shitstorm for you when he kicked you out, how’s it going to be for her?”
“I’ll take care of things with Dad if it comes to that. Make sure she’s got a place to go. And I know everyone gets hurt, but some can be avoided, and that would be nice too.”
“And… you’re talking about me again.”
Mercy stood, her gaze never leaving his. “What was it you told me seven years ago? Monogamy is fine for romantics and sheep, but you’re never tying yourself to only one person?”
That was it exactly. Word for word, as far as he remembered. And she’d thrown back in his face the one reason he knew Susan deserved someone other than him.
“That’s what I thought. You and me? We’re good. But not if you break Susan’s heart.”
The conversation wilted to nothing, and a moment later Mercy left.
He let the conversation rent space in his skull, as it argued both perspectives, and he dove back into work. Minutes ticked away into hours, and he found the brain power to accomplish a few tasks. When the phone on his desk rang, he stared at it in confusion. Wrong number? He didn’t know why anyone would call him here, rather than on his phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mister Andrew.” It was Susan.
Despite his internal prompting to remain distant, hearing her drew a grin. “Hey, yourself.”
“Did I offend you the other day?” Her cheerful tone cheered him across the lines.
“Not at all. It’s that…” He didn’t want to rehash the conversation he had with Mercy. Whatever the outcome, he’d lose. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is, with you. Promise to tell me the story next time I see you?”
This was where he needed to say, That’s done and over. You had your lessons. There’s no reason for us to see each other again. “Maybe not next time, but I promise.” Like that, days of agonizing and self-abuse evaporated.
“I’m holding you to it. I only have a few minutes, but I had to call and thank you, and ask how things went with Lucas.”
“Not well.” The answer slipped out before he could consider it. “He told me he was happier believing the lie.”
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy hung heavy in the simple statement.
He wasn’t used to this. Of course, any kind, socially-trained person was going to offer their condolences, but she sounded sincere. The way she always did.