I’m not sure how long this goes on, but slowly, her sobs subside. She hiccups, draws in a breath. Her shoulders tremble, and I pull her even closer. She pushes her nose into my shirt, and inhales. And again. I pause, glance down at her, "Did you just sniff me?"
She pauses, then nods.
"Does it help?"
She nods again.
"Okay then."
I continue to hold her, until she pulls away. I loosen my arms about her, and she leans back, tips up her chin and glances at me from under her eyelashes. "Didn’t mean to fall apart like that," she mutters.
"You are entitled."
"No, I am not. I’ve had enough of being the victim here. I hate crying, you know. Always have. It took me a full two weeks to break down after my mother died."
"I’m sorry." I peer down into her features. "Truly."
"Thank you." She nods. "She was unwell. Cancer." She swallows, looking down again. "She was ailing for nearly a year before she died…and it was a relief when she was gone, because she didn’t have to suffer anymore. Does that make me a terrible daughter? That I was happy that she was finally out of pain?"
"No," I grip her hand between mine, "no, it doesn’t."
"I didn’t want to lose her, but I couldn’t stand to see her suffering. And then…after she died, I found out that she had asked my father to marry her best friend after she was gone." She swallows. "That’s the kind of woman she was. Always looking out for everyone else. Everyone except herself. She was too focused on her daughters, her husband. She didn’t take enough care of herself. It’s why she fell sick, I’m sure of it."
I run my fingers through her hair, tuck a strand behind her ear.
She tips up her chin, holding my gaze. "You knew Edward?"
I stiffen, then force my shoulders to relax. I knew this conversation was coming. Only, I’d hoped to have a little while longer before having to reveal how I’d happened to be there at the very moment that she’d run after Edward, but no matter. There is never going to be a good time for it, I know that. Still, it doesn't help when I glance into those big green eyes of hers and see the hurt in them. I wince, glance away, then back at her.
"I did," I clear my throat, "I do know him."
"So, you know that…" She swallows. "You know that he and I—, that we—"
"Fucked?"
She hunches her shoulders, pushes away from me. I release her and she slides off my lap. Her bag slides to the floor, as she begins to pace in front of me.
"We slept together… once… no, a few times that night, before he—"
"Stop." I bunch my fingers at my side, "I don’t need to know the details."
"Why not?" She turns and stares at me. "Don’t you want to know what he did to me the first time we were together? How he..." She swallows, "how he, took my arse."
I bunch my shoulders.
"How he came in my mouth."
My thigh muscles spasm, my stomach ties itself in knots.
"How he took my virginity when he—"
I spring up, walk over to her, slap my hand across her mouth. "Enough, woman," I roar.
My voice echoes around the space.
She blinks up at me, big green eyes that carry the remnants of grief from her mother's death, from Edward’s desertion, from how she misses him. Shit, despite what he did to her, she still misses him.
I lower my hand to my side. "I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here."
