Dishonorable

Lina went to bed early on our last night at the house. The bank was set to take possession in the morning. Raphael wasn’t there. He’d gone out, like he seemed to do most nights. I understood. Being here was probably a downer for him. Hell, it was a downer for me. He had the luxury of leaving. Besides, I still didn’t know what would happen with us. Even after Venice, now, now that everything was gone, I wasn’t sure he’d want to stay. If I’d feel good letting him, not after everything that had happened to him.

I’d been tossing and turning for hours when, at close to one in the morning, I gave up and decided to go downstairs and make myself a cup of tea. Most of the furnishings were already gone, but the kitchen table with its two chairs remained. I switched on the light over the stove and put the kettle on, listening to the silence, the stillness of an empty house. It was almost eerie, but in a way, I liked it too. I liked the calm, and I liked the dark. I felt safe, like I was hidden from view. As if no one could see me here. Maybe it was because of all the publicity in the last few weeks.

Once the kettle whistled, I reached to switch off the water. That was when I heard the key slide into the door and, startled, I looked up to find Raphael pushing it open.

He gave me a strange smile and walked into the house.

I wanted to ask where he’d been but couldn’t bring myself to do so. Instead, I cleared my throat and turned my attention to the tea, unwrapped the bag, and set it in the mug.

Raphael didn’t speak. I heard him open a cabinet and take out a glass then pull out a chair and sit at the small table.

“Déjà vu.”

I turned to face him. He pushed the chair across from him out with his foot.

“Sit.”

He had a bottle of whiskey and had poured himself some. His cool eyes remained trained on me.

I walked over and sat down. He tipped the whiskey bottle and poured a little into my tea.

“Thanks.”

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

I shrugged a shoulder and wrapped my hands around the steaming mug before meeting his gaze. “I’ll be okay. Thank you for being here. I’m very grateful. You didn’t have to—”

“Of course I did. What did you think, I’d walk away when things got ugly?”

I shifted my gaze back into my cup.

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked.

When I met his gaze, I saw he had that cocky look in his eyes. “You don’t scare me. Not anymore, Raphael.”

“Don’t I?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe I should try harder.”

I wasn’t in the mood for laughing. “Where were you? Where do you go at night?”

“Nowhere special.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“What kind did you want?”

“The true kind.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You also didn’t really tell me anything.”

“What do you want to know? Exactly?”

He knew what I wanted to know. He just wanted to make me say it. I drank a long swallow of whiskey-tea, squeezing my eyes shut as it burned down my throat.

“Careful. You drink too fast, and I’ll have to put you to bed again.”

A dirty grin lit up his face.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to put you out. You’ve probably been busy tonight, putting someone else to bed.” I didn’t mean for it to come out angry like it did.

“Ah.” He finished his drink and poured another. “The truth.”

“I never lie to you.”

“You did once.”

“When?”

“You lied to protect your sister.”

I felt heat flush my face. How had he known?

“I haven’t put anyone to bed but you since we’ve been together,” he said, cockiness gone.

“Oh.”

“Did you really think otherwise?”

“I don’t know what to think. You don’t have to be married to me anymore. I’m really more of a liability now.”

“I think of you as a human being, not a liability.”

“But I’m not an asset either.”

“Human being. Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Sofia. Shit happened to you. You survived it, and you will now move forward. Welcome to life.”

“Piss off.”

His face changed, hardening a little. “Be careful, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. God, I loved when he called me Sweetheart. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“Then ask the questions you want to ask, and don’t hide behind your fear.”

“What’s going to happen with us?” I blurted out.

“There you go. See, it’s not so hard, is it?”

I shook my head and pushed my chair back. “It’s so easy to make fun of me, isn’t it? Do you just set me up for the heck of it? You just enjoy it that much? I thought you’d tired of it already.”

“Sit down, and don’t be so fucking dramatic.”

“You know what? This is a dramatic time in my life. Sorry if it’s annoying to you.”