“That makes no sense.”
“I was trying to find a way to tell you that wouldn’t destroy your feelings for me.”
His jaw tightened. “You should have told me from the beginning. I should have known you were pregnant.”
I wondered what he would have done. Would he have come back to New York? Would he have insisted I go Europe with him? At that time, he wasn’t standing up to his mother.
He put his hands on his hips. “If you’d come to Europe with me, I’d have known.” He said as if he’d just realized it. “Did you know you were pregnant and that’s why you didn’t come? Because your parents certainly didn’t talk you out of coming. They were clueless about that.”
“Your mother talked me out of going with you.” I wondered if I should have kept that to myself. This was my fault, and while she played a role, in the end, all this was on me.
“You lie. Do you lie about everything?”
“I’m not lying.”
His expression was disbelieving as he stared at me. “She didn’t even know about you. How could she talk you out of going?”
I inhaled a breath, trying to gather strength before I wilted into a pile of ash. “She came to my dorm room. She told me you were leading me on—”
“And you believed her.”
“She told me you were spending time with other women. She showed me a picture of you and Evie. It was clear you two were close.” I sank into the nearest chair.
“I told you about me and Evie.”
“Recently, but back then—”
“You could have asked.”
“I could have,” I admitted. “I was a twenty-one-year-old girl from a regular family, swept up by you.” I looked up at him. “I thought you were too good to be true. I was afraid to take the risk that your mom was right. How would I get home if it didn’t work out?”
“And when you found out you were pregnant?” He crossed his arms looking down on me with harsh eyes.
“I told you. I went to your mom and she said you never mentioned me and so I couldn’t be important. You had a future that couldn’t be ruined by the likes of me. She offered me money to go away.”
“Fuck.” He turned away. I hoped his reaction meant that he believed me. “Wh
at about when we met up again? You could have told me then.”
“I should have. My reasoning for not telling you made sense at the time—”
“Like what?” he demanded. “What possible excuse is reasonable to keep me from knowing I’m a father.”
“Protecting Andrew.”
“From me?”
“From your mother. And I was afraid I’d lose him. I was going to tell you, Devin. I really was. I was just too late. I know there is nothing I can say or do that will have you forgive me, but I need you to know—”
“Need me to know? Now you have something I need to know.”
I looked down, because he was right. I was offering too little, too late. Finally, I stood and moved to stand in front of him. I’d say this looking into his hurt, sad, angry green eyes.
“I love you.”
He scoffed. “Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”
I nodded, knowing I had to accept that.