Page 83 of Finding Amanda

"I guess Amanda's loss is my gain."

"No. It's not."

Her Jujube lips lifted at the corners. "Do you remember what I said to you the day we talked on your front porch, the day you broughtherhome?"

How could he forget? "Her name is Amanda, and honestly, what I remember is worrying about what she was thinking."

Annalise's mouth opened in a shocked little O. "Well, incase you forgot, I told you that day that you were my first and only love."

"And like I said, you made your choice."

"No, I was stupid." She spat the word. "If I could go back and do it again, I would choose you."

"But you can't go back, Annalise. And neither can I. You wanted to be a model, and you went after your dreams. I never begrudged you that. And I wanted to go into the service, and I went after mine. You went to New York, I went to the Academy. I knew when we split that summer it was over, and I was right. Your career took off, and you forgot all about me."

"I'm sorry, Mark. I was so focused on my career, but now?—"

"Now it's too late. It's been too late for a long time. I'm sorry if you have feelings for me, but I don't return them."

"You do! Of course you do." She reached for his hand, but he slid it beneath the table. She left her arm stretched toward him. "You don't have to pretend with me. We both know who you turned to when you needed a shoulder to cry on. And it wasn't her."

"Don't."

"I was there for you, Mark. Your parents announced their divorce, and where was she? She couldn't be bothered to join you for your first Christmas home from the war. But I was there. I comforted you. I gave myself to you that night."

Mark pushed his chair back and stood. "I'm sorry. I should never have . . . It was wrong." He raked his fingers through his hair and paced. "I was so angry—with my stupid parents for announcing their divorce two days before Christmas, with Amanda for not being there. And you were there, and . . . I'm sorry. It didn't mean anything."

She turned in her chair toward him. He saw her tears hovering, threatening to spill over. "It meant something to me."

He took three long steps into his living room and collapsedon his sofa, burying his head in his hands. "I never meant to hurt you. But I can't give you what you want. I love my wife. I have since the moment I laid eyes on her." He forced himself to face the pain in her expression. "You don't even know me. Besides that one night, we haven't been together in almost twenty years."

She stood, scraping the chair against the floor. "So you used me, like every other man. I thought you were different." She swiped her tears. "What a fool I am."

Mark looked away. He couldn't be swayed by her emotions. "I wish I could go back and undo that night. I can't tell you how much I regret it."

"But not for my sake. For your precious little pixie—that's why you regret it."

Irritation prickled his skin like a thousand needles. A little pixie? How like Annalise to judge a woman based on nothing but her height. Unfortunately, everything else Annalise said was true. He'd hardly thought of Annalise's feelings after that terrible night. When he'd showed up at the house to find Amanda at his kitchen table with his mother, a desperate lie had flown out of his mouth. He'd been at his father's, that's what he told her. Later, he'd taken his cell phone into the bathroom to call his father and beg him to back up his story.

His father had counseled him to never tell Amanda the truth. "She'll never forgive you," he'd said. And he would know. His dad strayed once in his marriage, and Mark's mother never forgave him. After years of making him pay for his adultery, she'd squeezed every ounce of joy out of his life until he had nothing left, and then she'd divorced him.

Amanda could never know about his night with Annalise. It hadn't meant anything, and he refused to lose her over it.

Annalise grabbed her water off the table, took a long sip, and slammed it back down. "Well, what's done is done. We're neighbors now."

Neighbors? The word hit him, the implications. The Porsche, the boxes—they belonged to Annalise? He jumped up from the seat. "No, you can't stay."

"I got a job in Boston, working for an agent, scouting young talent." Her voice was nonchalant. "I was living with a friend, but I wanted to get out of the city, and Norwell seems nice."

"Please, don't do this."

"It's too late, Mark. I've already moved in."

"I'll reimburse you whatever it costs. Why in the world would you move into this crappy building, anyway?"

She stared at the floor. "To be near you."

He squelched the wave of pity. Annalise made her own decisions. But what would Amanda do when she found out? This would push her away for good.

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