Page 43 of Love is Blind

“That’s not necessary. You don’t owe me anything, I’m the one that followed and propositioned you.” I pause and shrug my shoulders. “We had sex. It was good and then it was over. Holly got me out of there, and I appreciate you asking her to do that.”

“Necessary or not, I’d still like to give you one.”

All right, plan B. Hear him out, accept the apology and then forget about him.

“Bianca…the woman who interrupted us...she’s my ex.”

I nod.

“I figured that much when Holly told me she wasn’t your wife.”

“Wait. You thought I was married?” he asks. He makes it like it’s such a far-fetched idea.

“Holly didn’t tell you?”

He sighs and again his leg brushes mine as he repositions himself on the couch next to me.

Note to self: tell Emmy she needs to buy a bigger couch.

“I have been dodging Holly’s calls since yesterday and last night I didn’t go back to the clubhouse. I needed to get my head sorted—now, I’m here.”

The silly girl in me wants to ask him where he slept if he didn’t go back to the clubhouse, but I said silly, not stupid.

“Well, no need to explain. Holly already told me she wasn’t your wife.”

“Actually, I think I do need to explain. Bianca may not be my wife, but she is my daughter’s mother and until yesterday I hadn’t seen her in six months…since the day she overdosed on heroin and let our baby drown in the bathtub.”

There are a handful of things I remember hearing throughout my life that have left an indelible print on me. Like the day I found out I would never see again. I remember everything about that moment. I committed the sterile scent of the doctor’s office and his apologetic tone to my memory. And I can tell you for certain, Ghost telling me had a daughter, one that drowned, is another one of those moments. So forgetting him was a nice idea, but it’s not going to happen. I’ll always remember the chill that ran down my spine and the way his voice broke with that last sentence.

My head snaps in his direction and I try to rack my brain for something comforting to say, but I don’t know how to wrap myself around such a tragedy. Holly was right when she said his wounds were deep and that they may never heal.

“I didn’t come here to lay that on you and expect a pass. What I did was wrong—leaving you like I did, without your cane—and I’m sorry.”

Splaying my palms on top of my thighs, I shake my head and push out a breath.

“You don’t have—”

He cuts me off.

“Stop telling me that,” he says. “I had no business taking you back to the clubhouse that night. I’ve been a mess since my daughter died and most days, I feel like I’m the one drowning. But that night, something changed and the more I sat with you at the bar, the more it became hard to ignore what was going on.” He pauses for a beat, then continues, his tone a lot raspier than before. “You made me feel alive, Birdie, and when you made it clear that you wanted to leave with me, I couldn’t stop myself. I thought I could make it one night. Be noble and do the right thing by someone else, but some things just don’t happen no matter how badly you want them to.”

He lays a hand on my thigh and gives it a squeeze. I turn my face back to him and swallow against the lump in my throat.

“You gotta know, I don’t regret you, though,” he murmurs. “If I knew the outcome, I’d still put you on the back of my bike. I’m that much of a selfish prick. Even now I’m being selfish because the right thing for me to do would be to leave you alone and here I am.”

He’s making it like I’m some naïve girl he took advantage of, when in reality I was looking for an escape too. It’s not fair to let him think otherwise, especially when he carries so much guilt.

“I’m no saint, Ghost.”

“Maybe not, but darlin’ I’m the Devil.”

I wonder if he realizes his actions say otherwise. That sharing his pain with me just so I would feel better about what happened is about as selfless as it gets.

Covering his hand on my leg with one of mine, I whisper, “I’m sorry about your daughter.” I wish there was more I could do. Some way I could comfort him. “No one should ever have to bury a child. There are no words.”

Not to describe such a loss.

Not to describe such pain.

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