Page 101 of A Naked Beauty

“I should have been there.”

“And you would have been if I’d let you.”

“Malcolm knew. If he didn’t want to punish me—”

“That’s Malcolm’s fault. Not yours.”

“We lost our baby.” His voice breaks, filling me with a wrenching ache.

“Miscarriages happen, Mick. There is no guarantee you being there would have changed the outcome. But you don’t believe that because you filter everything bad that happens to the people you love through your guilt over your mother. You’ve convinced yourself that you should have been able to protect her when there was no way that you or any child could have. And you wear that falsehood like it’s a scarlet letter.”

“I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m not.” I struggle to reason with him as he paces angrily to the window over the sink. “It doesn’t take a psychologist to see the hard-edged guilt you battle.”

“I’m handling it, Dee.”

“If that were true, you would not have had another nightmare last night.”

He stills. All the color drains from his face. “I…” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t remember.”

Tears flood my throat. “I woke up to noises and found you crying, begging your father to stop. I assumed it was about your mother. And when you wouldn’t wake up, I held you and rocked you.”

“Christ. That’s why I found you asleep with me on the couch?”

“Yes.”

He looks at me with something that resembles disgust and shame. “I’m sorry you saw me like that.”

“Mick.” I go over to him. Touch his arm bunched with tension. “There’s no embarrassment or apology needed because I was there for you in a vulnerable moment. You’ve held me when I’ve cried.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Because you’re a man?”

“Because I don’t want you dealing with my shit.”

I inhale sharply and turn on my stocking feet.

“Wait.” he calls.

I walk faster down the hall. Needing to get far from him before I say something I’ll truly regret.

He catches up with me inside the bedroom. “Will you wait a damn minute?” He grabs my wrist, spinning me around.

My hair whips across my face. “I have waited and I’m sick of it. You give bits and pieces, but you don’t give me all of you. You won’t let me share your pain. You won’t let me help. You won’t let me in.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“That’s not enough! Telling isn’t the same as making me a part of your life. Relationships aren’t only filled with sunny days, Mick. We have to be able to weather the storms.”

“Maybe my storms are too much.”

“No.” My arms go around him. The need to give him reassurance is more important than hanging on to my hurt and anger. “I used to think my baggage was too much. I thought I didn’t deserve love or happiness. I thought I wasn’t worthy. That’s why my mother and father didn’t want me.”

“That’s not true, baby,” Mick rebuts strongly, hugging me tight.

“I know that. Or at least I’m starting to. You’ve helped me. You make me feel loved and wanted. You encourage me to let go of those self-deprecating tapes that tell me I’m not good enough. You’ve supported me through my sadness and grief…through my insecurities and doubts.

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