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“What do I want?” He pauses. “You know what I want. That’s why you’re clinging to the covers like they’d stop me. But it’s not why I’m here.” He draws a breath. “I came to apologize for the way I acted in my apartment the last time we were together.”
Apologize. Imagine that. Rafael Huntsman apologizing for despicable behavior. He’s not of the same generation as my father and Antonio—who wouldn’t apologize for anything, not even if their lives depended on it—although I do suspect they’ve apologized to their wives once or twice. No, he’s not just like them, but he’s cut from a similar cloth, and I know he’s stingy with his apologies. He wants something.
“I was out of line—completely out of line. I flew off the handle, and more, I grabbed you in anger. It shames me more deeply than you’ll ever know.”
His sincerity floors me, dredging up warm, fuzzy feelings that I’m trying desperately to bury. But it’s not easy to bury love. It’s powerful and resilient and— Why did he have to apologize? It just mucks up everything.
“It’s not something I’ll ever do again,” he assures me, regret wrapped around each syllable. “You have my word.”
Talk is cheap. It’s true, but I don’t say it, because I believe him. Not because I’m foolish, although I can be when it comes to him, but because I’ve known him almost my entire life. Rafael’s not the kind of man who raises a hand to a woman. He just isn’t.
“You scared me,” I admit, “because you were so out of control. Although aside from your rough hold on me, I didn’t think you’d hurt me physically. But I’d never seen you like that, and it was unnerving.”
He takes his hand and places it over mine, the blanket between us. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. Even that night, when I was raging, I didn’t want you to be afraid. I regret making you feel that way.”
“But you don’t regret the things you said.” The ugly words that landed like daggers in my soul.
He opens his mouth as if to speak, but doesn’t say anything. It’s as though he’s searching for the right words.
“I regret all the problems my outburst caused, but I meant some of it.”
It’s a gut punch—maybe more like an elbow to the side. “You meant some of what you said, like that I’m a traitor.”
He shakes his head vehemently. “No. Never. That was careless language I wielded to hurt you. It was wrong. I was disappointed. More than disappointed. From the moment you arrived at Sirena, I knew you were hiding something. But even still, I started to think about—” He scratches his forehead above his right eye, like he does when he’s going to say something he doesn’t want to admit.
“I started to think about some kind of future—for us. And that day, I felt like it was snatched away before we’d given it a real chance.”
I don’t spend too much time parsing his words, and I don’t assign them any meaning. No need—they’re clear. He did want something with me beyond a physical relationship—or at least he thought he did. It doesn’t change anything, Lexie. Don’t give him the chance to break your heart again. Because you know he will.
“I was disappointed too,” I admit, although I’m sure he’s not surprised. “Crushed. I’d hoped for more time too. But mostly I was hurt because I expected better from you.”
“I expected better from you, too, Lexie. Maybe it was foolish, but I expected you to be loyal to me over all else. I understand now. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
He squeezes my hand before moving his away.
“I want to show you something. It’s something I should have shared with you that day. Maybe sooner,” he mutters.
I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. All I know is that it’s taking everything I have not to throw my arms around him.
Rafael hands me his phone. “Scroll right. There are two images. Those documents are the reason I interfered in Valentina’s life the way I did. Marco was the beneficiary of the account, and we believed her life was in imminent danger.”
The words he says are a blur. But Valentina already explained this to me. I get the gist of what he’s saying. What he doesn’t understand is that it doesn’t change anything. It’s like there’s a disconnect somewhere. It’s how he went about dealing with his concerns that caused the problem between them. I hope he doesn’t think this justifies any of his behavior. He’s not getting a damn pass from me.
“From that information, I’d have drawn the same conclusions that you did. But I would have approached it differently.”
“Even knowing that the best way forward was to keep your mouth shut, and lie, because it was unclear who you could trust?”
He’s holding up a mirror and challenging me to look at my reflection in the glass. “I know what you’re doing, but comparing your decision to my decision about how to manage the traffickers is a false equivalency. And you know it.”
“Maybe. But if we told Valentina, she would have gone straight to her husband and given him a heads-up before we had a chance to question him.”
I don’t respond, because of course she would have done that, and I understand that it might have put her in danger. “No question it was a no-win situation, but that doesn’t excuse how you treated me. You took all your anger and frustration over the situation with Valentina and hurled it at me—never once taking responsibility for your part.”
“I’m taking responsibility now, and I’m doing the best I can to apologize.” He lies on the bed next to me and turns on his side. “I’m not ready for it to be over between us, Lexie. I want us to have a chance. Maybe it won’t work out, but at least we’ll know that we gave it our best shot.”
I would love to, but I can’t. I need to think with my head for once when it comes to him, not with my heart and certainly not with my body.
People say all kinds of things they don’t really mean. Listen when someone shows you who they are.
