Page 17 of King of Guilt

“Oh, not to me… not at first, at least. But he would make it clear that he was about to leave and find someone else who’d agree at a moment’s notice, and he did.”

“And… you left him, right?”

“Which time?” She bitterly chortled and then again, another big sip. While she leaned forward for a refill, she added, “I broke up with Kyle three times in a year. One year. It was all it took for him to break me with promises of getting better… seeking help… joining the program and ditching at a glance from a hot blonde.”

“I’m… sorry you had to go through that. Nobody deserves to be treated like that, least of all you.”

“Me?” She looked at me with a sad smile. “It’s on me, you know. I enabled it. I allowed him.”

“You loved him. And a man who has a love like that—so forgiving, so… generous—should have treated you like a queen!”

She let out a little whine, and I wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a cry, since she quickly leaned sideways against the backrest and curved her hand over her eyes, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be treated like a queen, Dean. I’m just a woman. A good woman. And I wanted to be treated as just that.” She paused, gesturing aimlessly with her hand. “But I guess that was too much to ask of Kyle.”

And she took another sip.

Leaning forward, I held out my arm and whispered, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?”

“Not even remotely,” she objected. “You know what the pathetic part is? Is that he’s out there, getting the help he needs… while I’m stuck.” Narrowing her eyes, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m so stuck. It’s not fair.”

“Y—You still have feelings for him?”

“Oh, I’m not that pathetic,” she snickered. Looking away, she put down the glass on the floor between her feet and leaned forward, placing her face in both her hands. With a muffled voice, she confessed, “I haven’t been able to let anyone touch me since I left Kyle.”

And that was when she began to quietly sob.

“Isn’t that sad?” She continued to cry, shielding her face from me with her hands. “I’m so broken I can’t help but feel sorry for myself. Therapy—it only helped with the panic attacks. But I couldn’t afford to continue, and the worst part is… people take sex for granted.” Snuffling, she added, “Everyone around me seems to think of it as that thing they do to blow off steam on a Friday night. And me? In this endless loop of fear and disgust? How can I ever get back what he stole from me?”

Normally, I would take a woman out on a few dates and see her naked before I got to see her cry. But then again, Emma and I started by working together and jumped straight into counterfeit nuptials. I wasn’t going to pretend that anything about our relationship was normal.

And all of that logical nonsense aside, my heart was breaking for her.

Without further thought, I went over to sit next to her, close enough to be able to wrap my arm around her back. All it took from me was a gentle push, and she let herself into my embrace, weeping against my chest. “My God, I’m sorry,” she murmured into my shirt. “I’m so drunk.”

She tried to pull away, so I held on tighter, patting her back with both my hands. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s alright,” I whispered, and she stopped resisting for a moment.

But it wasn’t long before she planted her palms onto my shoulders and pushed herself away with determination I didn’t know she could have at this moment. “I’m—” her tears continued to cascade down her face, as if the demolished dam was too far gone. “I’m drunk. I’m clearly so drunk.” With one hand, she began wiping one of her cheeks. “This is so embarrassing,” she breathed, looking away.

Without taking my hand off her back, I leaned closer, whispering, “Emma, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. And you’re not broken. And there’s nothing shameful about your pain or those tears.” Gazing down at her hands, she didn’t respond. “Emma, do you understand?”

She wouldn’t even nod.

I didn’t know what it was, but clearly, something about her… something that had rendered Kyle unable to control his urges. It must have been the same thing that prevented me now from curbing my desire to comfort her. Up until that moment, my protective side had only let itself be seen a few times. It would show with my mother; with an old girlfriend when she’d broken her leg. It also shone through when my father was dying, and the doctors were clueless about how to help him.

But never had it ever manifested itself in the way I was feeling right now. Never had I ever yearned to engulf another human being inside of me physically, in order to consume their pain.

My mind was at a loss at how to handle my emotions, and God only knew I had exhausted all of my energy at hiding them lately. Everything around me stood still, and nothing moved other than that tear slowly descending along the soft curve of Emma’s reddened cheek.

And I wanted nothing more than to wipe it from existence.

And my body claimed a life of its own, away from my consciousness and better judgment.

Inching closer, I saw her eyes rise up to meet mine, questioning if I was about to inflict another wound that would be too much to bear. But that wasn’t my intention.

Letting my fingers make their way up to her trembling chin, I touched it with as much tenderness as I could muster, fixing her head in place.

And then I did the last thing either one of us saw coming.

I allowed my lips to land on that salty drop at the bottom of her jaw, smudging it across her smooth skin. And I didn’t stop there. Moving my lips ever so slowly, I traced up the wet line left in the wake of her regret. My heart was about to implode, so I closed my eyes, fully aware of the fact that she remained calm and accepting under the tenderness of my touch.

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