I held his gaze.
“I’m alive, but you don’t look too happy about it.”
I turned away and kept walking.
He followed me. “Benton.”
“I said I never want to see you again.” I halted then turned around. “What part of that didn’t you understand?”
His eyes narrowed as they focused on my face, his look dark despite the sunlight heavy on his cheeks. “The part where you called Ian to tell him I needed help right after you left.”
I kept my face hard as stone.
“Benton—”
“I’m not coming back.”
“Not why I’m here.”
“I don’t care why you’re here. Leave me the fuck alone.” Other people passed on the sidewalk as they headed to work and school, and they didn’t seem to notice the two of us in a verbal battle.
“You know me. I don’t make apologies—”
“And you know I don’t accept them.”
He slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I accept your resignation, Benton. But I don’t accept your withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal from what?”
He stared at me for a long time before he made a slight gesture between us. “Us.”
I gave a loud sigh as I looked away.
“I would never put Claire in jeopardy—and you know that.”
“You had ample opportunity to get her back—”
“I had no fucking idea that they took her until you came to me. And once I knew, you bet your ass I tried to get her back before I got a damn thing from you. But it was too late. Forneus took off running.”
With a clenched jaw, I shook my head. “You saw what they did to Beatrice—”
“I had no idea—”
“Fuck off, Bartholomew. Don’t play stupid when we both know you’re the smartest motherfucker in this town. Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing as you were doing it. Maybe shit got out of hand, but you still orchestrated the beginning of this nightmare. All because you still held a grudge—after all these years.”
He breathed heavily for a while, his eyes hard. “You’re right. I never forget a slight—and you slighted me hard. But the betrayal was different from all the others, because this was fucking personal. I let my anger get the best of me, let it simmer these last seven years, and then I did something I shouldn’t have done. Benton, I’m sorry. Fucking sorry. I’d take it back if I could—”
“But you can’t. And I’m moving to Canada anyway, so…”
His shoulders fell the same way his eyes did.
I turned away before he could say anything back. “Goodbye, Bartholomew.”
Constance watched me move about the house, watched me grab the bottle of scotch and fill a glass even though it wasn’t even noon. She watched me flop down on the couch in front of my laptop. “Something happen?”
I took a drink and kept my eyes focused on the screen.
She came closer. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Benton—”
“I said, nothing.” This time, I looked up at her to drive the message home.
She held my gaze for a while before she returned to the bedroom. The door shut a moment later.
I turned back to the screen and continued my search for a new home. I’d never been there before, but I had to find the right place with the right school system, a place where we’d be happy a long time.
I continued to drink and drink, and before I knew it, it was noon and my mind was foggy.
Constance took the decanter away and placed it inside one of the cabinets. “Enough of that…” She moved about the kitchen and made lunch, ignoring me all the while.
I eventually joined her and grabbed one of the pans.
She pushed my hand away. “I’ve got it.”
I saw the way she wouldn’t meet my gaze, the way she pretended I didn’t exist. “You’re mad at me.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not obligated to tell you everything—”
“When there’s a psycho putting acid in my food and stalking me day and night, yes, you’re obligated to tell me.” She stared at me head on, a fire in her eyes. “I haven’t seen you head straight to the bottle since we first met. It was like going back in time…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what happened.” Now lunch was forgotten, this conversation taking over the kitchen.
“Bartholomew.”
“So, he survived?”
I nodded.
“What did he want?”
“To apologize—even though I’ll never forgive him, regardless of how many times he apologizes.”
“You aren’t going back. He’s wasting his time.”
“That’s not what he cares about.”
“Then what?”
I gave a shrug.
“What, Benton?”
I leaned against the counter, my arms crossed over my chest. “As I said before…we were close.”
“You didn’t speak for seven years—and that didn’t bother him then.”
“He’s stubborn.”
“So stubborn that it took him seven years to do this when he could have just picked up the phone?”
“He knows I wouldn’t have answered.”
She stood in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest too. “You come in here pissed off like a bull, but when I ask you about it, every answer you give is calm and simple. So…why were you so angry in the first place?”
I stared at her face, seeing the way her eyes showed the depth of her intelligence. She constantly collected information, constantly surveyed the world around her with pinpoint accuracy. It was to my detriment sometimes. “I’m not sure.”
“It sounds like you still care about him.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“It’s not too complicated for me to understand, Benton.”
My eyes dropped to the black-and-white checkered tile beneath us. “I know how he thinks. I see him make bad decisions for the right reasons. I see him try to reconcile his logic and his emotion. This decision he made…was just like one of those. It was a bad decision, but he didn’t know what else to do.”
“He could have just talked to you.”
“There was nothing he could have said that would have made me change my mind. It was the only way to get us back to where we were. It was a bad decision…for the right reasons. I know he’s sorry. I know he wouldn’t put Claire in jeopardy. That’s why it’s complicated.”
Hair wet with a towel around her body, she stood in front of the mirror and ran her fingers through the strands. The towel would slip sometimes, so she would tighten it and keep going, unaware of my stare in the bathroom mirror.
I could see her from where I lay on the bed, the light from the vanity giving her face a beautiful glow. Her face was free of makeup, but her green eyes still stood out like the lights on a Christmas tree. She was gorgeous with no effort. She didn’t have to wear a short dress that barely covered her ass and do her makeup heavy to get a date at the bar. She was all natural—and all perfect.