Page 21 of Regret Me Not

“Yeah. But you said them about somebody. Somebody I cared for. And when I tried to explain it, all you could tell me was that she should have known better. Everybody makes mistakes, hon. Everybody. Holding a mistake like that against somebody—it makes you not a very good person, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” she asked, and it wasn’t his imagination. He’d hurt her. Deeply. He hadn’t thought it was possible—but then, until these last two weeks, talking to Hal until he became another chamber of Pierce’s heart, he hadn’t found the words.

“Maybe it was just that way for me,” he soothed. “Maybe somewhere out there is someone who will take the same sort of joy you do in finding that line in the sand.”

“You’re judging me, you bastard!” She was trying to pull her bitch on again, but he’d left her crying, and he hated that.

“You’re right.” Unwelcome and unbidden, he remembered when he’d first seen her. She’d been tall, healthy—a broad-cheekboned face and thick dark hair and eyes, with the sort of smile that sparkled. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice choking. “I am. I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I should probably have been gentler about it, but… but you were there. I almost died. And when I woke up, I thought, ‘Right now, we can say we’re sorry, and we can make it better. I don’t want to live like this anymore.’”

“And I said….” She breathed deeply, obviously trying to control her own tears. “I’m sorry, Pierce,” she whispered after a few hard breaths. “I’m… I still don’t get it all. But I’m starting to see I fucked up.”

“I should have found better words.” He hauled in a big lungful of air. “But my body hurt and my heart hurt and….”

“And you didn’t trust me not to hurt you again,” she whispered. “Okay. Okay. This isn’t what I called for, but okay.”

Pierce wiped his face with his palm, and Hal reached over to his side of the bed and grabbed a few tissues, handing them to him while he pulled himself together.

“What did you call for?” he asked after one of the worst moments of his life—including when the fire department had to use the jaws of life to peel him out of his destroyed pickup truck.

“I… I was going to file the papers,” she whispered. “I just wanted to make sure they hadn’t been filed yet.”

“You do that,” he said. “I won’t stop you. Send them to my sister’s house. I’m coming home in January. We can be divorced by the early part of next year.”

“I… I was… I found somebody,” she said, half laughing. “I didn’t expect to, so soon. I was hoping for a June wedding.”

Pierce paused, waiting for the impact, but he was apparently in the right position, because the blow flew right by. “I’m glad,” he said, meaning it. “I am sincerely glad you found someone. I… I never wished you ill.”

“Pierce?” she asked, her voice aching. “Why didn’t you ever ask to have children? I… I want them. I didn’t realize how much until I… I met this other guy. Why not us?”

Pierce thought about it. Hal grabbed the box of Kleenex and scooted close. Closer. Until their hips and thighs were touching under the covers. Part of Pierce was distracted by the warmth of the body—of Hal’s body. But most of him was still putting this part of his past to bed.

“I was afraid to ask you,” he said, his heart aching too. “You… you were so mean to Sasha, Cynthia. I… I was afraid you’d judge me too.”

Her voice caught in a sob. “I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

And now he could say this with a clear heart. “Me too. I’m so sorry. I… this was not how I saw us.”

He’d imagined them once having children, being the kind of parents he saw Sasha and Marshall being. He hadn’t realized, day after day, week after week, the fear of what she’d say, what she’d do—how that had built into a shell around his heart.

“Me neither. I… I filled the paperwork out already. You’ve got the house, like I promised. I hired a gardener to keep up the outside. Call me before you get home. I’ll have someone come in and freshen the place up.” Her voice stabilized, now that she was being practical. She’d always been good with details. “I took the bed, so if you send me a link to one, I’ll order the replacement and be there when it’s delivered.”

“That’s kind. You don’t have to—”

“I do.” A deep shuddery breath. “I… I guess I don’t have as much kindness in me as I always thought. I should probably practice before I screw up another relationship, right?”

“It took two,” Pierce admitted. “I… I should have found better words.”

“It… you accused me. That’s what it felt like,” she confessed. “I…. God. Why didn’t we have this talk years ago?”

Work. Promotions. Parties. Trips. Every moment, Pierce thinking they could work through it, he could live with her another week, another month, because he loved her, right?

Until all that resentment smothered the love. Dead. No resuscitation, no more love.

“I’m sorry. Just… so sorry.”

“I still care for you,” she said softly. “But… but we’re better off over, aren’t we.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yeah.”