Page 83 of Without Apology

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Simon

As we lay there in the quiet of her bedroom after I’d spent the last hour making love to her, naked and tangled up in one another, I knew I needed to give her more. She’d shared the piece about her father which I appreciated couldn’t have been easy. I wanted to offer the same in return. An explanation of why I was the way I was.

But I didn’t know the best way to bring it up. In a fashion that was not typical for me, I simply blurted it out. “My father used to beat both my mum and me.”

Her sharp intake of breath made me wince at my delivery.

“I didn’t mean to say it quite like that, but I’m not sure how else to get it out. He enjoyed the pleas and the apologies forced by his hand.”

She tried to move, but I held her tightly. I couldn’t get the rest out if I found sympathy in her eyes.

She seemed to understand, lying still, asking a question in a whisper. “How old were you?”

“My first memory of it was when I was four. He was making my mother apologize for something and using me as leverage. When she didn’t grovel enough, he started to hit me. He was always careful to hide the marks. Bruises were never on my face.”

“How long did it go on?”

“Until I was twelve. Thankfully, my family had a lot of money, so I was sent away to boarding school, which saved me from the brunt of it. At least during the academic year. I remember worrying about my mother, but I think the one thing she could do for me was to have me out of his reach. Anyhow, when I came home for break, I realized my mum had fresh bruises on her arms. It enraged me to a breaking point.”

“What did you do?”

“I confronted him. He didn’t like it. He insisted I apologize for being disrespectful. I didn’t. I made a vow in that moment I never would again. And because I refused to say the words, he started hitting, then kicking me. I took the beating to the point my eyes were swollen shut, and he’d broken my arm and some ribs. This time there was no way to hide it. Once I was taken to the hospital, I told the authorities what the bastard did to me.”

“Was he prosecuted?”

I gave a harsh laugh. “Money buys a lot of things, including forgiveness with the law. Didn’t help that my mum wouldn’t come forward and say she was a victim, too. But she did file for divorce. He paid her off, and she retired to the country. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since that day. It was cruel fate for her to be the one to die of cancer a few years ago while the bastard still lives.”

She shivered in my arms. “Where is he now?”

“London. He lost his license to practice law, at least, and became a hermit. Last I heard, he was slowly dying from alcoholism.” Once upon a time I’d dreamed of getting revenge. Thought of ways to ruin him financially or otherwise break him, but once my mom died, I realized it wasn’t worth it. To hate him was giving him power, and I didn’t want to do that.

“That’s why you don’t apologize.”

“I associate it with the worst time in my life.”

“I feel so bad about—”

I cut her off. “Please don’t. The last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me.” I’d loathe it if she did.

“I don’t. But I do empathize with the little boy you were and for your mom. No child or wife should have to go through that.”

“No. They shouldn’t.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

I squeezed her tighter. “Me, too. Of course, another reason I don’t apologize is I try never to be wrong.” I was trying inject some levity into this heavy conversation and was pleased when she popped up with an amused expression.

“Oh, yeah?”

“It worked until the point you came along, and I started messing up all the time.” I sighed. “I snapped at Emma tonight, too. Nothing like pissing off the two most important women in my life in one go.”

She leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “Sometimes saying you’re sorry doesn’t mean as much as showing you are.”

“Are you saying I should give her a spa gift card or something?”

She shook her head, smiling. “If you did that every time you were an ass, I think you’d end up broke.”

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