Page 124 of The Perfect Mistake

“I don’t know what to think,” I say. “You never talk about her, or your marriage, or anything related to it. All you’ve mentioned is your grief. Connie has mentioned it, too. How different you were before she died.”

His hands slide down my shoulders, gripping my arms. “Sweetheart,” he says. “That’s not why I don’t talk about her.”

“Then why is it? What makes you think that you won’t be what I want in my future?” I lock my hands around his neck and feel the steady drumming of his pulse, a beat beneath his warm skin. “Talk to me. That’s all I want, Alec. Just talk to me.”

His hands land around my waist, and he pulls me closer until I’m seated on his lap. It feels right, being this close to him again. We’ve always communicated best when we’re touching.

“I don’t talk about her,” he finally says, “because I don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where would I begin?” he says. “Why would you want to hear about her? How would it not upset the kids if I mention her all the time?”

I run my hands over his shoulders. “Your mom died when you were a kid. Right?”

His eyes narrow in confusion. “Yes. I was thirteen.”

“Did your dad speak about her afterward?”

Alec’s eyes darken. “Not really. He was devastated and disappeared into Contron. It swallowed him whole, or he swallowed it, I’m not quite sure.”

“So that’s what you’ve learned. You don’t talk about people who die, and you focus on work.”

He frowns, his eyes narrowing further. “I don’t know where to start. How would talking about Vicky with you just not complicate things? You’re… Isabel, you’re the first truly good thing I’ve had in my life for years, other than my kids. Being with you is everything. These stolen moments we have, together on this couch, or you in my bed… they make my day.”

“They do?”

“By a mile,” he says. “So if you want… I’ll talk about it. About my marriage.”

I smile at him. “Will you tell me about her? You don’t have to recount the end. But maybe, the beginning? How did you two meet?”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Through a mutual friend. It was a dinner party, and she was there.”

A stab of jealousy pulses through me, but it’s there and gone again. It’s not fair of me to feel like that. He’s had a life before me, just like I have. I’ve had boyfriends. Shared firsts with others.

I curl my fingers around the lapels of his suit jacket. “How long did you date before getting married?”

“Three years, give or take a few months. I proposed over a candlelit dinner. She’d hinted that it was what she wanted.” He shakes his head, his eyebrows lowering. “Do you really want to hear this?”

“Yes. It’s your history.”

“I would hate to hear about your past boyfriends. Wouldn’t have any right to. But I would.” He leans his head against the back of the couch. “We wanted similar things. She was ready to be a mom. Excited, actually. She was funny and supportive, and she really loved socializing. She was the one who kept up with all of our social engagements. Dinner parties and events and movie nights.”

“Fundraisers at St. Regis,” I say.

His lips curve. “Exactly. She would have organized that fundraiser movie night.”

“Where did she work?”

“She’d studied marketing, but she didn’t work after getting pregnant with Willa. Sam came along only three years after Willa, so there was never any talk of Victoria going back to work.”

“Do you miss her?” I ask.

He looks away from me, toward the rooms of his children. The doors are still slightly ajar, but the bedrooms are far enough away that the kids shouldn’t overhear our quiet conversation.

“I miss her on behalf of my kids,” he says. “They’re denied the very same thing I lost. I never wanted that for them, and now it’s their life.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

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