Page 63 of Fix You

When the tears continued streaking down her cheeks, I took a tentative step towards her. “As for regret, it’s eaten me alive these past months. I regret leaving you alone with your pain. I regret not reaching out to you to make sure you were all right.”

Her eyes pinched shut as if she were in physical pain. “Anyone else I can bear looking at me like that, but not you. I never wanted to see those emotions in your eyes.”

“I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes to stare sadly at me. “So am I.”

“I want to make things right between us.”

“You’re an engaged man. You should know as well as I do there can benothingbetween us.”

“I can be your friend.”

“I allowed myself to feel more for you than a friend,” she whispered.

Even though it was the worst thing I could possibly say at that moment, I replied, “So did I.”

An agonized noise came from the back of her throat. “I have to go.”

“Wait, there’s something I need to give you.”

When I reached into my coat pocket and produced a small gift wrapped box, her eyes widened. “I want you to have this.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

“But I wanted to.” I swallowed hard. “I needed to do this.”

Tilting her head at me, Maeve demanded, “Did you get your fiancee the same thing?”

“No. I had my secretary pick something out for her.” As I held out the box to Maeve, I said, “I worked with a jeweler to design this for you.”

The hostility faded slightly from her face to be replaced with curiosity. Although she seemed to be at war with herself about how to react, she finally reached out to take the gift from me. Her fingers shook as she tore open the extravagantly wrapped box.

When she opened the lid, a diamond necklace glittered up at her. Surrounded in a platinum setting, a small oval medallion hung from the center. It was also encrusted in diamonds. “St. Maria?” she questioned in a whisper.

I nodded. “She’s the patron saint of–”

“Rape victims,” she interjected to my surprise with disgust.

I winced at her reaction. “Among other things.”

“But you don’t see me as a victim?” she countered.

“She’s also the saint of forgiveness.”

“You don’t need my forgiveness for what happened, Rafe. It’s my fault. I asked you for the kiss, and you granted it to me. Whatever happened afterward is on me, not you.”

Shaking my head, I replied, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Blame yourself. I read about how victims of rape and sexual assault often blame themselves for what happened. It’s the other reason why I got the necklace for you.”

When she remained staring at me, I jerked a hand through my hair. “Jesus Christ, Maeve. Don’t you understand? I care about you. A lot. Because of my feelings for you, I want to help you. I’m fucking bad at expressing emotions, okay? Everything about us is new territory for me. Since I couldn’t torture the bastard who hurt you, I turned my attention to ways I could help you. In some small way, I thought that necklace might help.”

She shoved the box back at me. With her chest heaving with anger, Maeve cried, “If I wore that necklace, it would be aphysical chain around my neck of my emotional trauma. Not to mention a blazing neon sign that I was broken and damaged.”

Fuck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

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