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Paige nodded. “I was married before.”
“I’m sorry,” he told her gently. “Did your husband bail because of the abuse?”
“Indirectly, yes. But for all intents and purposes, no. He didn’t know I’d been molested.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. But I didn’t know, myself, because it was repressed. It eventually caught up with me and bitch-slapped me in the face, but unfortunately it didn’t happen until I’d been divorced for over a year.”
It took Evan what felt like five minutes to digest what she’d just told him, because it sounded like a bizarre plot of a low-budget movie that only aired at 3 a.m. on an obscure cable channel. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I know what it sounds like, but it’s real.”
“So, what did your ex-husband say when you told him all that?”
“I still haven’t told him. I tried,” she clarified. “I reached out to him a few times in the last three years, but he wasn’t interested in talking to me.”
“What an asshole.”
“He’s not, though. And I take part of the blame. I didn’t specifically tell him what I wanted to talk about. If I’d been a little less vague, it might have made a difference.”
“How long were you two married?”
His interruption and seemingly random question threw her for a second. “Uh, seven years.”
“Well, I think seven years of marriage should’ve been more than enough to earn you a conversation with the asshole—” Evan held up a hand when she started to protest. “I know, you don’t think he’s an asshole, but I do. He did you wrong. He spent years with you and wouldn’t listen to what you might have to say? Asshole. I listened, after only spending a few minutes with you.”
Paige tilted her head, conceding his point, then said, “There’s also the fact that by the time I contacted him, he’d been with someone for a while. Living happily without me played a big part, I think.”
“Sounds like you’re not thrilled about that.”
“That he’s been with someone for a while?” She looked down at the scarred surface of the bar, covered with a thick coating of clear epoxy. “Yes and no. I always wanted him to be happy, just not with her.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know her?”
“I know her well enough to know she’s not worthy. At all. And it kills me to know that he’s with her and that they have a child together.” She took a deep breath. “There. I said it. I’m a terrible person.”
“You’re not a terrible person. Just honest.”
There was silence between them for a moment and then Paige leaned forward. “So now that you practically know my whole story,” she said, turning the tables, “what’s your story?”
Evan folded his arms across his chest. “I was in a relationship several years ago. It was complicated. I know, everyone says that, right? But this really was. I got involved with an established couple—a man and woman—and for a while it was great.”
That was a curveball she hadn’t seen coming. “Were you with both of them?”
“The man and I were both with her. I wanted to be with him, too, but he was still in denial when it came to men, and wasn’t willing to go there with me.”
“So, you’re bi-sexual?”
“Yes. I swing both ways. So, when you mentioned not being ‘normal’ sexually, I sort of understood. My father always thought I was a deviant, right up until the moment he died.”
Her expression fell. “Oh, Evan.”
“It’s okay. I was used to it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m not going to lie, though. I’m thankful I don’t have to deal with him anymore.”
Paige nodded, wanting to climb over the bar and give him a hug.
He waved a hand, as if to clear the air of the unpleasant conversation. “Anyway, there came a time when things shifted between the three of us and we started to break down. It was mostly my fault, because sometimes I’m not very diplomatic, and it wasn’t long before I was basically given my walking papers.”
