Page 33 of The Carver

“Thank you for sharing that with me.”

I’d thought the truth would chase her off, but she was still there, still looking at me exactly the same.

“And thank you for being honest. It means a lot to me.”

“Honesty is what you’ll get from me—for better or worse.”

“And that’s more refreshing than you’ll ever know.” She said it with a sigh, like Adrien’s lies and infidelity still pissed her off, even when she was in a safe and committed relationship with me. “Can I ask you something else?”

“I said you can ask me anything, sweetheart. Pick a chapter, and I’ll flip to the page.”

“Why are you willing to be so open with me?” It was obvious that wasn’t her original question.

“Because you said the only way you would consider being in a relationship again was if it was with someone who was honest. Well, I’m as honest as it fucking gets. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you. Ask me how I feel about you, and I’ll give you the truth—but make sure you’re ready to hear it.”

Her stare continued, poignant and emotional but also timid and guarded, like she read between the lines and was afraid of what she saw. She swallowed, and her eyes flicked away for a second.

“Pick a chapter.”

She was quiet for a while, the remains of her feast left on the plates, just one slice left and a few leaves of greens from hersalad. She stared out the window for nearly a minute before she looked at me again. “You told me there are rules that everyone must follow, that no women can be trafficked or hurt in this line of work. You seem to be passionate about it…and I just wonder why.”

That was not the question I’d expected. I’d anticipated something more personal, like if I’d ever been unfaithful to a woman, how many people I’d killed, something along those lines. It was a heavy question with an even heavier answer, something I’d never told anyone—not even my own mother.

She watched me for a while and seemed to realize she’d struck a nerve. “You don’t have to answer the question.”

“I’ll answer it. Just not tonight.”

Her eyes softened with emotion, like she instinctively knew I didn’t want to deceive her or hide a horrible truth. However, the story was unspeakable, and to put it into words again was to relive it—and that was something I’d thought I wouldn’t have to relive. “Of course.”

Memories hung in my mind’s eye like wisps of smoke, but eventually, the tendrils floated away and rose to the ceiling until they dissipated. My eyes were out the window for nearly a minute before I looked at her again, grateful she’d given me the grace to sidestep the question. “Any other questions?”

She moved her plate away, not having the room to finish the last slice. Her elbows moved to the table, and her hands came together as she considered the next question she wanted to load into the barrel. “Were you with anyone else during that week apart?”

My initial reaction was a smirk because the question was ludicrous—and sad. My eyes stayed on hers as I felt the smile slowly leave my mouth. “I’m sorry that you even have to ask that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t. I know I’m not the reason you asked it.” She asked it because some boy pretended to be a man and did her dirty. Because someone had shaken her faith in men. “The answer to your question is no. I’ve been all in with you from the very beginning. A fight doesn’t change that.”

“But I said I didn’t want to see you anymore.”

“Still doesn’t change anything, sweetheart.” Maybe if a month or two had passed and we didn’t speak, things would have been different. But during that week, I was so pissed off, I didn’t recall even looking at another woman. “I’m not going to ask you the same because I already know the answer.” Not because I’d had my men tail her, but because I knew she’d wanted me even when she pushed me away.

Her eyes dropped momentarily, like she was ashamed that she didn’t reciprocate the unwavering faith I placed in her. “I’m still sorry about all of that.”

“Good.” I liked it when she was apologetic, when she was afraid that one wrong move could make me walk away. She was more affectionate, and whatever her fears or objections were, they were silenced. She’d had all the power in the relationship when we met, but now I had it.

“How long are you going to be mad at me?”

“As long as I want.”

She played with her hands, nervous, like she actually believed the threat of my words.

“Any other questions?”

After a stretch of silence, she shook her head. “No.”

“Then let’s go to bed.” I’d woken up just six hours ago, so I wasn’t ready for bed, but I would lie with her until she fell asleep before I did some work on my laptop and had a couple of drinks in front of the fireplace.

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