“It was all my fault.”
“The fact that you got pregnant? I was there, too.” And he remembered every detail. Small things. The softness of her skin. The crash of the waves. Touch and sound. The way she’d felt and tasted. Nothing in his life had ever felt so right. “How could it have been your fault?”
“We wouldn’t have had sex at all if it hadn’t been for me.”
Did she really believe that?
“Fliss—”
“Can we stop pretending and remember how the whole thing went down? You tried to stop me ripping your clothes off. I have a distinct memory of hearing you tell me it wasn’t a good idea and that we shouldn’t do it.”
“Because I was worried about you. Not me. You were upset that night. You didn’t talk about it, but I knew you were upset. Your father had arrived unexpectedly. He’d said something—you wouldn’t tell me what. Whatever it was made you cry.”
“He didn’t make me cry.” Her tone was fierce. “He never made me cry.”
“You mean you never let him see you cry. But I saw it, Fliss. I saw what he did to you. How his words made you feel.” And he’d wanted to step through her front door and confront her father. He would have done it if he hadn’t been sure she would have been the one to bear the consequences.
There was a long silence, and then she lifted her chin and looked at him. “I have a confession. Something I probably should have told you a long time ago.”
He could hear the crash of the waves through the open doors.
“I’m listening.”
“I told you I was protected. Taking the pill.” She looked away and stared at the food instead. “It was a lie. I wasn’t. I said it because I—I was afraid you might stop. And I really, really didn’t want you to stop.”
He waited. “That’s your big confession?”
“I lied to you, Seth.”
“I know. I always knew.”
Shock flashed across her face. “How?”
“You were pregnant. It was pretty easy to figure out. And if there was blame, I share it, too. I should have used a condom.”
“You didn’t think you needed to.”
“I should have used one anyway. The reason I didn’t is the same reason you lied about taking the pill. Neither of us was thinking much about that side of things. Our relationship was always a bit like that, wasn’t it? It was like trying to hold back a storm.” And he knew instinctively that part hadn’t changed, that if he touched her they’d reach flash point as fast as they had the first time.
“I trapped you.”
“That’s not how it felt.”
“Oh, come on.” She paced to the doors, and for a moment he thought she was going to walk out. Then she paused. “One crazy summer, that’s what it was. Sex. Hormones. A teenage rebellion moment.”
“Seriously? You’re pretending it was teenage rebellion?” He saw her cheeks darken with color.
“It was never supposed to end up the way it did. We never should have gotten married.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“Mr. Good Guy.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “I don’t think so. I got you pregnant.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“Why are you always so determined to take the blame for everything?”