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He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. There’s pain in his eyes, and I didn’t expect that.

“Don’t even try to deny it. Lola saw you walking out of the club with the redhead. We all know she’s an escort,” I bark at him.

The way he lowers his head in defeat is confirmation enough to make my stomach roll in disgust. How stupid I was to believe him. I knew he paid to have sex. I saw him with my own eyes at the club. I feel so humiliated I want to cry.

“I can explain.” He lets out a sigh.

“You promised you wouldn’t humiliate me! I gave you everything, I slept with you, and you humiliate me in front of everyone who knows me.” Rage drips from my words.

He rubs a couple of fingers over his eyes, and I notice the dark circles under them. He’s tired, and yesterday I’d have been worried about him, but now I’m glad he’s exhausted. It’s a petty thought, but it makes me feel a bit better.

“I know I made a mistake but it’s not what you think,” he says, sitting on the bed.

“What a cliché,” I spit.

He looks at me and I see regret in his eyes. It’s too late to feel guilty now.

“It’s really not what you think. Please sit down.” He’s so defeated that for a moment I hesitate.

I didn’t anticipate an explanation. I don’t even know what I was expecting, honestly. I’ve always thought men who pay for sex are lying bastards who don’t deserve a second chance. But to tell the truth, since knowing Raphael, I’ve completely forgotten about this aspect of his life. I sit next to him as doubt creeps into my aching chest.

“So, you didn’t meet with a prostitute last night?” I’m confused.

He shakes his head, and my hope dies a bit. “I met with her, but I didn’t have sex with her.”

I don’t know what to think. “What does that mean?”

He takes a deep breath and stares in front of him for a long moment, then turns and pins me with an honest look. “She’s Kelsey’s little sister.”

This is so unexpected I don’t know what to feel. Disbelief and discomfort hit my gut in a painful blow. “You’re fucking your dead ex’s little sister? That is messed up!” I blurt out.

He shakes his head again and I’m tempted to slap him to stop it. I’m glad I sat down next to him. I don’t know if my legs would keep me standing right now.

“I’m not fucking her. I never have. And I’ve never paid a woman to have sex with me. When Kelsey died, Jenny became restless. She was always a troublemaker, but she spiraled out of control after her sister died. A few months after Kelsey passed, her parents called me telling me she had become an escort. They were desperate and they asked me to talk to her.” He clenches his jaw as though these memories are painful for him.

I can’t even imagine what those parents went through and my chest aches for them. I keep silent, giving Raphael time to tell his story.

“I was never able to make her change her life, but I can’t abandon her either,” he whispers.

“Why did she do it? Fifteen years is a long time to rebel against what life throw at you. No matter how much pain you’re in.” It almost seems like she’s not rebelling at all, but driven by something else.

“She says she likes it like this. I don’t get what the appeal is to have sex with men that treat you like a piece of meat, but the more I prod her to open up, the more I find she’s actually okay with what she does. I guess she just enjoys sex and doesn’t care where it comes from.” He’s clearly come to terms with the fact that he won’t ever understand her choices, but he’s accepted them.

“Is that why you meet with her? To check if she’s okay?”

“This is where this story gets messed up. God, this got so big I don’t even know where to start.” He rubs a hand over his face and a sense of dread invades my stomach.

Seeing him so vulnerable makes my body hum with fear. Raphael is never vulnerable, never defeated or struggling over something. He’s the confident one who solves problems.

“After a few months into this life, she told me about a girl she knew who didn’t want any part of being an escort, but who was beaten and raped and forced to become a prostitute. I asked about this girl, but I didn’t know how to help her. I couldn’t barge into a brothel and kidnap a woman I knew nothing about. So, I used my connections to contact an FBI agent who could attempt to break into the human trafficking organization and get the guys who were doing it. Jenny feeds me information about the girls she meets and I feed them to my contact. I never planned to become a snitch. I kind of drifted into it without realizing it, at first. Then I saw the results of the information I was getting: the people who were getting arrested for it and the girls who were returned to their families. So, I kept doing it.”

Finally, this makes so much more sense than Raphael paying for sex. Of course, he’s helping others to the maximum extent. Usually, when a man comes up with an elaborate excuse for his infidelity, I call bullshit and turn my back on him without thinking twice. This is the most surreal excuse someone has ever fed me for being caught with a prostitute, but knowing Raphael, his ethics, his wanting to do the right thing, help someone out, it makes more sense than anything.

“I know I fucked up by meeting her in that club, but she doesn’t want to meet me anywhere else. I’m sorry I humiliated you. There’s no excuse for that,” he adds with a plea in his voice that melts my heart.

I say nothing. I stare into his honest eyes, raw with emotion, and anything I was going to say dies on my lips. How can you reproach a man for making you look like a fool in the eyes of a friend, when he’s literally saving people’s lives? My bruised ego is nothing compared to what he does. He made a mistake, but it was not entirely his fault.

The feeling of overwhelm rampaging in my chest is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care so much about him. I shouldn’t let my heart get so close to his. It could catch feelings and I can’t afford that. But I can’t stay away from him either. He’s tied to his past in a twisted fate I don’t know if I’m comfortable with, but I am too, and I have no right to ask him to let it go.