He doesn’t seem offended by this, but to be honest, I’m starting to get so loopy I can’t be bothered to watch him for reactions. I don’t want to hurt his feelings or trigger anything, but man, it’s no fun walking on eggshells. And he’s being surprisingly easy-going about all this; maybe he’s just grown up.
After a minute, he asks, “Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if he would’ve let you go with me?”
“No,” I say honestly, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. He never would have. He needs me. He loves me. I’m not his pawn anymore, Vince. You only knew what it was like before—your last memory of us was…” I scowl, remembering exactly what it was. “Oh, God, that was awful. That was a nightmare. And he was so mean to me that night.”
“Yeah, he was,” he murmurs, lowly. “I felt so guilty leaving you after that. I thought he was going to chew you up and spit you out. His true colors came out and… you didn’t even kiss him back when he kissed you.”
“Well, he was being mean.” Understatement of the century, but I don’t enjoy thinking about all that. Flicking my gaze up to meet Vince’s, I tell him seriously, “I was so happy you weren’t dead. He let me believe he killed you at first, and it was so horrible. It was the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced. I was in hell. I wouldn’t forgive him. It was so bad. We were all miserable.”
Vince watches me. “Yeah, I wondered about that. When I first made the decision to come here, I wasn’t even sure you knew I was alive.”
I nod, my head feeling so heavy. “He had to tell me. I wouldn’t forgive him. I wasn’t getting past it.”
He smiles softly, like it feels good to hear that. I guess it probably does. I was so awful to him. Now a guilty swell of tenderness threatens to overtake me.
“I thought you died thinking I didn’t love you,” I add, oversharing. “And it was the worst feeling. I was tormented with regret. I just wanted to be able to undo all of it and make you alive again. I just wanted you to be there in the morning making me eggs like it was just a fight, and I thought…” Absurd tears burn behind my eyes, remembering how awful that had been, how helpless and lost I felt then. Even though he’s sitting right here next to me, clearly alive and well, I can still feel it like it’s real.
Vince climbs off his stool and closes the small distance between us, wrapping his arms around me. I take the comfort and hug him back, resting my face against his chest, lost in the painful memories.
“I’m so glad it was just one of his tricks. I’m so grateful he let you out.” Pulling away from his embrace, I tilt my head to smile up at him. “It’s kind of funny, huh? When we first met, you told me how much you wanted out, but that it would never happen. Bet you never thought I’d be your ticket out.”
He still has his arms around me, holding me close, but I don’t mind. He smiles down at me tenderly, shaking his head. “No, I certainly never thought that would end up being the case.”
My body is so heavy. I lean it against his muscular chest again. He’s solid and reliable, and his arms feel so good around me. I’m so sleepy. How long have we been here? I never told anyone I’d be late for dinner.
Vince shifts my weight in his arms, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He brings it up behind my back, so he can pull out some cash while still supporting me. He drops some money on the counter and tucks his wallet away, securing his arm more firmly around my waist.
“I think you’ve had enough. Let’s get you out of here.”
“That’s the strongest martini I’ve ever had,” I tell him, unsteady as he helps me off the stool. “I’m glad you don’t hate me, Vince. I would be so sad if you hated me.”
This makes him smile, but only a little. “I don’t hate you, but I still have a lot of rage. Not at you, just… in my DNA, I think.”
“You don’t seem at all ragey,” I inform him.
“Your little heart text message made me a little ragey,” he admits.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Frowning, I say, “Wait, no I’m not. I’m not sorry. Habit. I’m allowed to send those now.” I nearly miss a step, but Vince’s firm grip keeps me upright. I’m starting to feel woozy, and I shouldn’t feel like this. I only had one martini, and I didn’t even get to finish it. “Vince, I don’t feel good.”