Page 39 of 44.1644° North
“I think it’s a realistic approach. The end goal is always prevention and protection. It’s the same with you and what you do. Criminology is the study of crime and criminals with an eye to understanding and preventing.”
“The non-legal aspects of crime and criminals, yes. But it’s a lot less dramatic than what you do.”
“It’s all the same in the end.”
I laughed. “Probably not. But I appreciate the pep talk.”
“Is that what this is?” Then, once again, Rory went off-script. “What happened with your marriage, if you don’t mind my asking?”
I considered whether I minded. Nope. Not at all.
“I don’t want to give the cliché answer that we just grew apart, but that’s what happened. He—Eric—really,reallydisliked the true-crime-as-a-hobby aspect of my work.”
“A hobby?”
“Not the teaching or lecturing or traditional publishing, although he often said he wished I’d chosen any field besides criminal justice. He felt that the podcasting and blogging were morbid and unnecessary, catering to people who viewed terrible acts of violence as entertainment—and there’s probably a certain amount of truth to that. He felt I spent too much time on what he considered unhealthy extracurricular activities.”
“Jesus.”
“Also, I wanted kids, and he didn’t.”
“Ah.” Rory regarded me for a moment and smiled. “Yeah. I can see you with kids. I bet you’d be a great dad.”
For some reason that actually made me a little sad, though I wasn’t sure why. It was a nice thing to have said.
“Anyway, maybe we could have worked things out, but he slept with another faculty member.”
Rory said nothing.
“I think it really was a slip, and I believe he was sincerely sorry, but I just…couldn’t forgive it. Eric said that if I truly loved him, I’d be able to let it go.”
Rory opened his mouth and closed it.
I said, “And I realized he was probably right. That I didn’t love him enough. So that was that.”
Rory’s attention was now focused entirely on the glass mug before him. “And that was two years ago?”
“Yes.”
“And you were together for six years.” It wasn’t a question. His smile was odd. “That had to be pretty painful. Have you sworn off relationships forever?”
My heart picked up tempo, though I was half convinced I was misreading his cues. Were they cues? Or were we just confiding things you only confide to strangers you’re never going to see again?
“No. I haven’t sworn off relationships. I’m not actively looking, but I hope eventually to meet someone.”
He said nothing, so to fill the silence, I said briskly, “What about you? How come there’s no boyfriend?”
He smiled, relaxed again. “There are boyfriends now and then. Mostly then. I have the kind of job that makes it difficult to maintain a relationship. At least with someone outside the Bureau.”
“You travel a lot. Clearly.”
“A lot. And we’re always on call. It’s not a nine-to-five job. Even when you’re off, you’re still partly on. You’re thinking about cases, working things out in the back of your mind. It can be hard to let it go, to be in the moment with someone, to give someone your full and undivided attention. Even if you want to. Does that make sense?”
“Sure.Don’t touch that dial.” I was joking, but I understood what he was saying. I was a workaholic too.
“I figured you for an analog guy.” He smiled, but his gaze was serious again as it met mine. “But yeah, I get lonely. I like sex. I’d like a relationship that lasted more than a few weeks. Companionship. Sex.”
“Sex and more sex,” I commented lightly. I also liked sex.
