Dirty Desires

It’s a good question. My instinct is bullshit. A secret is a secret. But Ty is right. Secrets have a weight to them. “I would want to know. He would want to know.”

“I thought so too. But what if it was one time? What if it really was a drunk mistake and it really didn’t matter? You don’t know what you don’t know.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Still bollocks. An excuse. But they could have overcome that… Only, it caused this ripple. She was carrying the guilt. She didn’t look at him the same way. Didn’t feel able to spill her guts. Wasn’t able to ask for what she wanted anymore. She didn’t always share Ian’s tastes.”

“Oh.”

“They… compromised. I’m sure he would have taken less. Offered more. If she asked. He loved her with his entire heart.”

My stomach twists. I don’t like this story. I don’t like thinking about him loving someone else. Or having his heart broken. “Oh.”

“I won’t make excuses for her. Laura was like a sister to me, but she was a smart, capable woman. She knew what she was doing. I’m not saying this to excuse her. Only to—”

“Explain?”

He nods yes. “Ian wasn’t there. He was obsessed with a work project. He was traveling all the time. Guilty about acting like our father. Unable to admit it. Unable to face himself. I’m sure… he was responsible for the distance as much as she was. But he loved her. She loved him. They both had good intentions.”

It’s hard to imagine Ian in love with someone else. Someone who hurt him. I don’t like it.

“One thing. One secret. After one tear in the canvas, it was easy to rip the entire thing. It was easy to find the weak spots. There are always weak spots.”

Is that true? I don’t know. I’ve never been in a real relationship before. Addie is the only person I trust.

There are things we avoid. Subjects we don’t touch.

They do cause a rift.

Even with us.

I nod go on.

He does. “The other man was there. He was listening. He was open to her.” He shakes his head. “It was one thing. Then two. Three. A dozen. Until there was a gulf between them the size of the Atlantic.”

Okay… I understand that. Sort of. I add eggs to the pan to buy myself time. They sizzle, but they fail to illuminate. “Why are you telling me this?”

“She was right. The secret was a burden. I felt it for months. After that night, I demanded she confess. But what did that help? He was more miserable than ever.”

“You can’t run from pain.”

“No. You can’t.” He finishes my mug of tea. Places it on the counter behind me. “Though that’s easier said than done.”

“What happened with your girlfriend?”

“She fell out of love. I don’t know why. Or how to explain it. I don’t want to. I want to get pissed and forget her existence.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And Ian… I’m not trying to burden you, Eve. I want you to understand where he is. Why he’s so unable to open his heart. He cares about you. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he does. And he’s going to… he’s going to ask for a lot. More than is fair. But it’s what he needs. And the heart doesn’t care about fair.”

“What are you asking?” Seriously, is vagueness something they teach in London? Or is it the people Ian knows?

“Consider it. Consider him. Do what you need to do. To protect yourself. But don’t write him off because he’s ridiculous.”

“Okay.” I think I know less than when this conversation started.

Is Ty still drunk? Or just distracted?

I guess it’s sweet; him trying to put in a word for his brother. But I have no idea what that word is. Maybe hazy. Unclear. Confusing. Something like that.

I do want to give Ian a chance. If he asks for it. But, so far, he hasn’t. So far, he’s been incredibly clear about our terms. Thirty days. Then it’s over. Forever. “I care about him too. I wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I have a sense about you.”

Okay… I focus on stirring the eggs. Adding leftover basil, tomato, mozzarella. “Do you think he still loves her?”

“No.”

“But he’s not over her?”

“Not over the damage.”

That makes more sense. “And you… want him to get over it?”

“I want him to be happy. Whatever that means. Whatever it looks like to him.”

“You try not to judge?”

“No.” His expression eases. “I judge. But I want him to be happy, no matter my opinion.”

“Oh.” I stir the eggs. “I guess that’s sweet.”

“Maybe. He’s a pain in the arse when he’s miserable.”

“So, it’s really a selfish motivation?”

“Absolutely.” This time, his laugh is easy too. “Now, let’s talk about something more interesting. How in the world did you meet Ian?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“I’d rather hear your side of it.”