“You were supposed to… I was never supposed to be able to reach you, Samantha. You were…my penance.”
“I’m not anyone’s penance, Logan.”
“No. You were mine. Do you know why I had sex with a stranger a month after my wife died? Do you know?”
“No. Because you didn’t tell me.”
“I’ll tell you now. It was because I couldn’t have either woman that I wanted. Rebecca was gone, and you were married. It just felt like one hell of a cosmic joke, and the fact that I even thought that, that I thought…that I thought I wanted you. Right then, I knew that I was… I have never hated myself more. No, that’s not true. I did after I slept with her. I couldn’t tell you who she was. Because I didn’t ask her name. It didn’t matter. It was all just trying to put distance between myself and that…that trail of a thought. I will never be able to untangle that. Those feelings, that moment.”
“So you can’t be with me because you’re punishing yourself?”
“No. No, it’s that I… I can’t do it. I… I just can’t. That was the lowest point of my life. You are wrapped up in it, Sam, whether that’s fair or not. I can never go back there. Caring for you while you were with him? That was its own kind of torture, but I kind of liked it. Then I wasn’t strong enough not to pick at it when I knew that I could have you. When I could see it. I wasn’t strong enough.”
“What about Hawaii?”
“I would’ve kissed you. I would’ve slept with you. Fuck him. I don’t care. It was never about him. The only reason I didn’t push it was because of you.”
“And now we could be together, and you’re still telling me no.”
For the first time since that day he had come to their house and told Will that there was no way Becca was going to live, she saw fear in his eyes. Real. Deep.
“Tell me. Because this isn’t honest. Is it guilt? You won’t let yourself have this because you feel bad?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Tell me in the simplest terms possible.”
“She knew, Sam. She knew that I was somewhere else sometimes. That I wasn’t the husband I should have been or could have been because I was never all the way with her.” His blue eyes burned. “Because of you. But not because of you. Because I don’t think I can ever really be there all the way for anyone. It’s convenient, right? To marry someone, but keep part of your heart reserved for another man’s wife?”
“You were a good husband to Becca. A great husband.”
“In the end. When there was a time limit. When it was too late.” He sighed, deep and hard and like it hurt. “I can’t give you what you want. Or maybe I could. Maybe I could get you stuck with me instead of Will. But it’ll only ever disappoint you. You’ve been disappointed enough. I can keep you happy. In bed. We’re good at that.”
“Stop it. Don’t act like this wasn’t a relationship. Don’t act like we didn’t share the deepest parts of ourselves. It was not just sex. Do not make it that. Don’t do that.”
“You need someone who isn’t such a bad fucking husband, Samantha. I was a bad husband. I could never… I could never not want you. I could never give all of myself.”
“And what? You’re afraid that even if it’s me, it’s just going to be like that? It won’t be. Because what if it was always us?”
“That’s magic thinking. I don’t believe in magic.”
“Fine,” she said. “Maybe it’s not magic. Maybe we’re not meant to be. Maybe we’re just two desperately human people who are deeply attracted to each other, and who felt things when we knew we shouldn’t, and did the hard thing, the right thing. And we’re here. Now. Where we can actually be together if we want. If we are just brave enough to reach out and take it. So be brave enough.”
“I tried with Chloe,” he said, his voice rough. “I am all she has, God bless that poor kid. I am all she has. I did better than my father there, but there’s part of me… I’ve never been able to prove to myself I’m not him. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t be there. Not for me, not for my mom.”
“You aren’t your dad. That’s magic thinking, Logan. That somehow a man who donated sperm to your conception all those years ago has more to do with who you are now than the ways you’ve loved Chloe, the way you cared for Becca, the way you care for me.”
And she could see him. Warring with himself. Trying to reason out whether or not he could do this.
She’d had a whole summer. To decide what she wanted. Where she wanted to be. That summer had brought her here. Standing here with him. Willing to take this risk.
He couldn’t answer her. Not now.
Much in the same way she hadn’t been able to answer him when he’d been all fury and thwarted desire in that alleyway in Boston.
Because something was holding him back. Something still owned a piece of him. She was demanding answers, and she could see clearly that he didn’t have them.
“It’s okay,” she said, nodding. “You don’t have to tell me. Not now. I love you, and…”
