Page 67 of Trophy
“I have.” This was going exactly where he didn’t want it to go—as surely as if she’d read his mind and discovered precisely what would make him most angry and defensive. “I told you Marie cheated on me and that Dee was never stable. What else do you want to know?”
“I want to know how you felt about that! I want to know about things you consider mistakes. And the only time you ever talk about anything connected to that is when you’re forced into it.”
“For God’s sake, Allison,” he groaned, closing his eyes and willing her to just drop the subject.
“I don’t think I’m asking anything unreasonable,” she said after a minute, her voice a little wobbly now. She was clearly getting upset. “I’ve told you everything about Arthur.”
She had. Over the past several weeks, she’d told him all kinds of intimate details of her marriage to Arthur. But that was different. It was entirely different.
He opened his eyes to see Allison, sitting on his bed beside him, wearing his shirt, her hair rumpled around her face and shoulders, her eyes huge and sober. She was beautiful and sexy and brave and resilient and so much stronger than she looked.
And she was saying exactly what his mother had told him last weekend. He could hear his mother’s voice in the back of his mind. And Allison’s, right in front of him.
He was trapped, frozen, starting to panic, so he did what he needed to do to get the voices to stop. He snapped, “You’re the one who wouldn’t even go on a date with me until last week. What exactly do you expect of me?”
She froze, completely silenced by his words.
Rob felt a wave of guilt as he watched the emotions slowly process on her face, and he felt like the biggest asshole in history.He’d known exactly where she was most insecure and he’d used it against her on purpose, just to get her to shut up.
“You’re right,” she said at last, the words no more than a breathless gasp. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Shit,” he muttered, starting to sit up. “I’m sorry. Don’t be upset.”
“I’m not upset.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, and she lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers up over her. “Sometimes it feels like our relationship is a little… a little unbalanced. I’m always the needy one, and you’re always taking care of me. But I shouldn’t have pushed like that. I’m sorry.”
Rob’s mind was a torrent of emotions now, and he couldn’t sort them all out. But the dominant one was that he desperately needed to fix this.
He’d told his mother he was treating Allison right, and yet he had completely crushed her just now.
On purpose.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said thickly, reaching over to turn her so she was facing him and then taking her hands. “I’m sorry I said that.”
“It’s really okay, Rob.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I just want you to be able to talk to me, but I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“Don’t apologize again. You’re right. I should talk to you more.”
Her eyes widened, suddenly hopeful, and Rob gulped back another wave of deep anxiety. What the hell was he doing? He didn’t do this kind of thing. He didn’t show the world his dirty hands, all the mistakes and vulnerabilities and mess in his life.
He definitely didn’t tell Allison. All he wanted to do was take care of her.
She didn’t say anything. Just gazed at him, both of them on their sides on the bed.
She trusted him. He could see it so clearly. She believed he was going to do the right thing.
He wanted to. He wanted for him and Allison to love each other and enjoy each other and depend on each other. He wanted to trust her too.
He cleared his throat. “It’s just… hard for me to… to…” He had to take a jerky breath, so hard was this for him to say.
In the pause between his words, he heard his phone vibrate with an incoming text message. It was two o’clock in the morning, so the sound was unexpected enough to draw his attention.
Allison glanced up to the nightstand too. “You better check it,” she said quietly. “Something might be wrong.”
With a groan, he reached over to grab the phone. When he read the message, he had to smother another groan. It was a buddy of his, letting him know that Dee was drinking herself into a frenzy and that someone needed to come get her before she got in real trouble.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s Dee. She’s… she’s in trouble.” He was torn in about a dozen directions at once. He knew he shouldn’t leave now. They’d been having a real conversation, one that meant something to Allison. And to him. Just because he was afraid and vulnerable and feeling out of control didn’t mean he should just run away from it.
