Page 67 of Everything We Give

“When you’d left James and came back to me, I should have told you, but I didn’t want to give you a reason to not want to be with me. Those nine hours with Reese are inconsequential to a lifetime with you. Those hours are an embarrassment. I didn’t believe you’d take my feelings for you seriously—takemeseriously—had you known. Bottom line? I was scared. I was afraid you’d leave me, too.”

Aimee is quiet, her gaze turning inward. She’s processing, kneading my words until she’s molded them into a shape she can comprehend. Her lips pinch. She sharply exhales through her nose and lifts her chin. I recognize the look. “You’re angry.”

“Yes, but not because you didn’t tell me Reese was your wife.”

“For only nine hours.”

Aimee’s gaze broils and I clamp my mouth shut.

“No, I’m not angry,” she corrects. “I’m disappointed you thought so little of me. That you thought a nine-hour marriage would scare me away. You should have told me.”

“Yes, I should have, and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“That makes three now,” she whispers.

“Three what?” I frown, confused.

“Three times someone important to me has kept something important from me because they think I can’t handle it. James about his brother Phil. Nadia about how she’s workingand flirtingwith Thomas.”

“Nadia’swhat?” I say with an unbelieving shake of my head.

“And you about your nine-hour marriage. I don’t have a fragile temperament, Ian. I’m not a withering flower.”

“You’re right, you’re absolutely right. You’re a tree, with strong roots.” I nod continually as I speak. “You can stand up to any sort of wind that tries to blow you down.” I move my arms around for emphasis.

“Oh my God.” She scrapes her hair back in frustration.

“Sorry, was that too much?” My mouth quirks.

She buries her face in her hands and cry-laughs. “This isn’t funny.”

I gently prod her hands away and dip my head to look up in her face, my own expression serious. I stroke her cheek. “You’re right. It’s not funny. I can’t apologize enough for not telling you.”

“I love you, Ian. I’m not going to leave you. But we are going to talk about this.”

I briefly close my eyes, letting her words sink in, then cup her cheeks and rest my forehead against hers, amazed at how incredibly understanding she is. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

She nods and moves away. “Good. You can start by pouring me a glass of wine.” She points at the complimentary bottle of Tempranillo on the bureau. “Then you’re going to tell me how you got yourself hitched to Reese’s Pieces.”

“Reese’s Pieces?” I look askance at her as I make my way to the bureau.

Aimee sinks into a chair. “Yes. She’s a piece of work.”

That she is. I uncork the wine and pour two glasses. I hand one to Aimee, which she downs.O-kayyyy. I show her the bottle. “Refill?”

“Please.” She holds up her glass.

This time she swirls the glass and sniffs the wine. Then she takes a sip and sets down the glass on the table. She rubs her thighs. “I’m ready.”

I’m not, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t want a choice. This is for Aimee. It’s for us.

I don’t sit at the table with her. I need to stand while I talk through this. It wasn’t one of the best days of my life. In fact, it makes the top-ten list of the worst. I lean back against the bureau in a semistanding position, my legs crossed at the ankles. My mind tracks back to those years with Reese and my stomach curdles. I press my fingers into my abs and set the wine aside, my interest in drinking it gone.

“We’d graduated from college and wanted to celebrate so we went to Vegas. It happened to be the same day my mom was scheduled for release and Stu would be in town to pick her up. There were six of us from college, three guys and three gals. Reese and I were the only official couple. She was also the only one who knew about my mom.”

I meet Aimee’s gaze and she slowly nods, encouraging me to continue. Hugging my chest tight, I pace the room. Her gaze tracks me. I look at the floor as I talk.

“You know the story about how I found my dad drunk in his hotel room and that he told me my mom left before he got there. What I didn’t tell you was what happened afterward. I drove around for hours, convinced I could find my mom at the bus station or waiting for a train. I even tried a few hotels to see if she checked into one. It was a waste of time. She was long gone. I finally met up with my friends on the Strip and proceeded to get really stinking drunk. We were all hammered, but I was a mess, and Reese was right there with me.

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