“Aww, look atya,gettin’ defensive.”
He flicked one more time, one last time, and hit that finalnerve. “You want me to fight, Patrick?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Fine!” I slammed my can down on his coffee table,splashing the drink over my hand and onto the table’s surface, and I stood up.I looked down at him, seeing that he had changed position. Sitting on the couchwith his elbows on his knees, his hands wrapped around the back of his head.
The Difficult Topic stance.
“I hate that you fucked her,” I sneered through my clenchedjaw.
He wouldn’t look at me, but he nodded. “What else?”
“I hate that you did the predictable thing and stuck your dickin the first thing that would take you.” My jaw ached, ticking between pausedwords. “I hate that, of all people, it just had to beher.”
“Good. What else?”
My fists clenched. “I hate that you ruined us, andeverything we could have been!”
His head lifted to spear me with his heated eyes. “Wait aminute … You blamemeforeverything?” I kept my lips pinned shutas he stood up, towering over me at an almost intimidating height. “Kinsey,youbroke up withme! You don’t get to blame me for that! You can blame mefor one hour of stupidity, but you don’t get to blame me for what started itall.”
He bore down on me, and I glared right back up at him, mymouth twisting with ten years’ worth of anger and bitter spite. How heavy ithad been, how light I was beginning to feel.
“You don’t think I know that?” I shouted up at him. “Youdon’t think I haven’t blamed myself every goddamn day for what happened?”
“Kinsey, I—”
I shook my head, and my fists tightened. “I hated myselffor so long for doing what I did, and I know I fucked up when I broke up withyou, butyoufuckedher. That’s what fucked everything up,Patrick.Youmoved on.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, pinching the spacebetween his eyebrows before dropping his hand, and shouting, “I didn’t move on!Are youkiddin’ me? I’venevermoved on! Whydo you think I’m here right now? Christ, Kinsey, Ican’tmove on!”
I moved across the room, separating myself from him. “Oh,give me a fucking break, Patrick! You got married. You can’t tell me youdidn’t—”
The bastard threw his head back, and laughed at theceiling. “Oh my God, I got married, because youleft. What the hell wasI supposed do?”
“Oh, will you just stop it already? You couldn’t evenlookat me when I came back! And now, you’re telling me that if I had stayed, younever would have married her? You’re telling me you would have gone on withyour life, being the good little Irish Catholic boy with a child out ofwedlock? What would yourMamandDahave thought ofthat?”I snickered at him with a shake of my head. “Lying isn’tgonnado you any good now, Patrick. It’s too late for that.”
“It was the right thing to do, under the circumstances, butif you had given metimeto take you back—”
“Time?” I scoffed. “What? Six months of silencewasn’t long enough for you? How much moretimedid you need?”
“Feckin’ hell, Kinsey! I waswrappin’ my head aroundbecomin’a father! I couldn’t think about how to fix whatever the hell had happened tous! But if you had given me a chance to sort shite out, I never would’ve triedto make a miserable excuse for a marriage work for ten years. I only everwantedyou. I choseyou, Kinsey. I chose you when we were justki—”
“Oh, yeah? Were you still choosing me when youchoseto fuck her?”
Goddamn my stupid mouth, and goddamn Patrick Kinney formaking me say it.
He rushed toward me in two strides, backing me into a wall.His hands were planted on either side of my shoulders, caging me in, and one ofhis large hands slammed against the wall behind my head, rattling the keys ontheir little hook, and my body jolted. He lowered his eyes to mine. His chestheaved, his nostrils flared, and I sucked in my breath.
“Goddammit, Kinsey! I fucked her, because she got me drunk!I fucked her, because she was there! I fucked her, because what you didfeckin’ hurt, and I didn’t want to feelanythingforjust a fewfeckin’ minutes!”
“And then, you married her, and stayed that way for tenfeckin’years.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and flexed his hand against thewall, accompanied by a snicker and a little shake of his head. “Yes, yes, yes,I know, Kinsey. I know. You keepremindin’ me of whatan arsehole I was fortryin’to be a good father, and a relatively loyalhusband. But youwannaknowsomethin’else?”
“What?” I sneered, spitting the word into his face.
“I’m also the arsehole that asked for a divorce as soon asyou were back, as soon as I knew I might have even thetiniestfeckin’ chance ofgettin’ you back.Because that’s all I ever wanted. Onefeckin’chance.”
