Page 125 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“I need to say it,” she insisted.
“Then say it. Say the things you came here to say but leave the apologies out of it. Go ahead, break my heart. Do it properly. I can assure you, I’ve withstood worse.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t look at you because I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to see you in pain, knowing I am the cause. I…” He gripped the top of an armchair, the press of his fingers denting inward. “I owe you my life. I was incapacitated, and you saved me. You were brilliant and strong and a little bit harebrained—all the things I love most about you. But it came at a terrible cost.” He blinked and looked away.
“That’s not why I lost the baby.”
“You overexerted yourself for me. You stayed in this house for me. The fault lies withme. My family. My house. My wife. My child.”
“Ours,” she whispered, correcting.
“Mine,” he huffed.
She swallowed hard. Even now, he refused to let her in. He was locking her out of her own loss. Removing her autonomy from her own choices. It was maddening.
“If I knew how to fix it, I would.” He spread his arms, plaintive. “I would give anything to fix it, Margot, but I simply don’t know how.”
Her temper flared. There was that horrible word again,fix. It wasn’t what she needed from him. Not in the slightest. And to hell with every man who had ever looked at her and tried.
“I am not broken,” she murmured, her tone deadly. “I do not needfixing.”
She picked up a crystal bowl on the sideboard and dropped it to the floor. It shattered magnificently, breaking into a thousand shards all over the floor, glittering like diamonds. Like the first frost upon the earth.
Merrick inhaled sharply.
She moved to the mantel, lifted a single finger and flicked. A ceramic vase wobbled once. Twice. It tumbled over and cracked into pieces.
“What are you doing?” He didn’t move to stop her, only watched.
“You want to fix something?” She pointed at the floor. “Go ahead, fix it.”
He furrowed his brow.
She picked up a ceramic cat. Lifted it overhead, smashed it to the floor.
“Thatis broken.” She pointed again. “Iam not. I’m not broken because Ifeel, Merrick. Because I hurt. Because I have a past that haunts me…the same as you. I am not broken, and I do not need fixing.” She lifted a second cat and tossed it into the space between them. It exploded at his feet like a launched grenade. “Do you understand the difference?”
His chest rose, then fell. “I don’t care about any of those things.” He nodded toward the floor, littered with shards. “I never have.”
She flicked her wrist, knocking an ornamental plate to the ground. It fractured. “Oops. What about that one?”
“No.” He shook his head, taking a step closer. Glass crunched underfoot.
Margot swept her hand across the mantel, knocking a second ceramic vase to the ground. “And that?”
“Couldn’t care less.” He took another step.
She crossed her arms, halting her attack on his house. “It’s nice to finally have your attention, Mr. Dravenhearst.”
“Couldn’t look away if I tried.”
“Because I’m acting out? Because I’m broken?”
“No. Because you’re crazy and brilliant and mad and beautiful…and right. Completely, wholeheartedly right.”
“You brought me here, Merrick. You chose to offer, and I chose to come. You don’t get to look away now, when you don’t like what you see, when the picture isn’t pretty and perfect. I won’t let you.”
