“I guess,” I said. “There’s something about Nate that draws me to him.”
“Is it just his good looks? Or something more? What’s this new guy like in here?” she asked, tapping her forehead.
“That’s the thing,” I said. “Nate has secrets, too. I know next to nothing about his past or who he really is. It’s like he’s guarding that, but for some reason, that doesn’t hurt as much as Rick’s secret. Nate’s secretiveness feels more like he’s protecting himself. Rick’s was more like keeping me in the dark on purpose. Even if Rick said it was for my own good, I can’t help but think it was a little like he wanted to treat me like a child.”
“Plus,” Lesley said, “there’s a difference between a guy you met last week sharing stuff about himself and the guy you were two steps away from being married to hiding shit. Did this new guy at least tell you he had secrets?”
“Yeah.”
“Did Rick? Before last night?”
“No.”
“Well, this Nate guy sounds more honest than most men when you start dating them.”
I didn’t correct her on that. Nate and Iweren’tdating. Her point was well taken, though.
Rubbing at the bruises on my arm, I said, “I may have some feelings for him. More intense than anything I felt for Rick.”
Lesley ignored me, her gaze pinned on my arm. “Why are you rubbing your biceps like that?”
I yanked my hand away. “No reason.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, and even to my own ears, I sounded guilty. Like I was the one hiding things now.
She stood, pushing her chair back, and circled the table until she was right beside me. “Show me your arm.”
Smiling awkwardly, I said, “I was, uh, I was just itchy.”
She huffed a sigh, then before I could stop her, she grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt and yanked it over my head. She moved so fast that I didn’t have time to fight her.
“What the hell, Lesley?” I demanded.
“I should be askingyouthat,” she hissed, pointing at my arm.
Four blue lines ran around the outside of my biceps, and a fifth smaller line ran into the soft inner side of my arm. Rick’s hand. Imprinted on me from the night before when he grabbed me.
Lesley trembled with barely contained rage as she stared at the injury. “Did that motherfucker lay hands on you, Cam?”
“It’s… it’s not what you think,” I said, cringing at how weak and stupid that sounded. Of course it was what she thought.
“That’s the person you wanted as your partner? The guy you wanted taking care of you and your family?” Lesley crossed her arms and glared at me. “That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To be with a guy who would stick around and take care of you, unlike those other men who left you high and dry? That,” she pointed at the bruises, “is not something a partner would do. It’s what controlling douchebags do. Good riddance to that fucker.”
Tears filled my eyes, a dam of emotion pouring through me as her words slammed home. She was right. I’d definitely made the right choice in breaking up with Rick.
“Can I have the shirt back, please?” I whispered.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Here.” Lesley helped get the sweatshirt back on, and for several moments, I sat there, hugging myself.
An alarm went off on Lesley’s phone, breaking the moment. She glanced at it and cursed. “Dammit. I’ve got an appointment, and Ican’treschedule.” She knelt and looked into my eyes. “Hang out here as long as you want. Take a walk, whatever you need to do. Okay?”
I nodded, wiping at my face. “I’m sorry I messed up your weekend.”
“You didn’t mess up anything. I’m just pissed I have to go and leave you here like this.”
Reaching out, I took her hand. “I’m good. Seriously. Go on. I’ll be fine. For real.”
