Page 43 of Redeem

That was yet another thought I had never given voice to.

As much as I knew that my relationship with my husband had been one of mutual comfort, and nothing like a love affair, it still hurt that I had been so incapable of making him happy.

Cut me to my very core.

Some part of me knew it wasn’t my responsibility, but the other part of me, the one that still didn’t know why my parents had left me, that part knew that it was something about me that left others perpetually unsatisfied was at the forefront.

I breathed past the tightness that squeezed my lungs and kept talking.

“The only thing that really made him happy was his business, and he would do anything to see it grow. To do that he needed money. He didn’t so much care about the source.”

I looked at Ciprian, whose face still gave nothing away. And then, almost as if driven by the need to purge everything, I continued. “He wasn’t established enough to get money from a real bank, so he took it from whomever he could,” I said.

I had found that out later, yet another of my failures. If I’d been paying attention, I might have been able to convince him to be smarter, but I hadn’t been.

“He wasn’t able to pay, so they killed him,” I said.

It was a flat, nonchalant retelling of what had been a soul-destroying time. Tears welled in my eyes, but they didn’t fall. I cried so many times before. I didn’t have the strength to do it again now. If anything, I felt relieved, was so happy to finally have that weight off my shoulders. Realized that, for better or worse, I had made my peace with his loss, the circumstances of it.

“You happy now?” I said. I stopped, and now stared at Ciprian, who looked back at me. His face told me nothing, his expression even lacking that vague, perfunctory sympathy that most people mustered. I appreciated him for that more than words could say.

We stayed that way, facing each other for long moments until he finally stood. He got closer, and then, after a heartbeat, wrapped his arms around me. I stayed stiff, but after a breath, another, I relaxed into his embrace.

I’d never, ever had this. Someone holding me, comforting. I just knew I couldn’t let myself get used to it. But in those moments I felt myself weaken, and in the next breath, I let myself fall into his embrace completely.

It felt good. To not be alone for however long it lasted was wonderful. He wrapped his huge arms around my shoulders, and before I could stop myself, I held him around his waist, put my face against his chest.

Then I just let myself be there, let him hold me up.

It was the most wonderful moment of my life. I wouldn’t let myself be naive enough to think it would last, but I had it for now. And I would take it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

His voice came out of his chest in a comforting rumble, and I held him even tighter, knowing that he could handle it, that for the first time in my life, someone wanted to.

“What are you sorry for?” I asked.

My voice was faraway, dreamy, the joy of being in his arms, of having someone to help carry my burden, making it something I didn’t even bother to hide.

He heaved out a deep breath, and squeezed me a little tighter before he spoke. “I’m sorry you had to see it,” he whispered.

In an instant, the joy that had filled me for those few tantalizing seconds died.

Nineteen

Ciprian

I recognized my mistake instantly, would have given everything in the world to take it back as she broke away.

A shiver rushed through me, my body missing Dana’s warmth, though my mind knew that was the least of my concerns. I wouldn’t even allow myself to hope that she hadn’t understood, and even if I had, that hope would have died the instant she looked at me through narrowed eyes, eyes that were once again bright with suspicion.

“You’re sorry I saw it? What does that mean?”

Another ray of hope sparked in my chest. She was offering me a chance. I knew I could make some excuse, that she would believe me if I said that I had misspoke. That she would overlook my lie.

So I had a choice.

Despite what I had done, I cared for her, cared more deeply than I would acknowledge to myself.

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