“Tell me, Rayne, has anyone ever broken your heart? Have you ever thought you knew someone so well you could trust them with every secret and you were certain they would never, ever hurt you? That they’d rather die themselves than cause you pain?”
Rayne fixed Emilio with a level, unflinching stare. “Yes,” he said. “I have. He broke up with me shortly before our third anniversary. So there you go. Karma struck a blow on your behalf.”
“As you said, it’s not about me,” Emilio said. “I asked because I wanted to know if you understood what it felt like. Can you honestly say if he came back into your life right now, you would trust him to haveyourbest interests at heart? Or would you think that having hurt you once, he might do it again? That he might knowexactlyhow to hurt you as much as he possibly could?”
Rayne sat back and shook his head. “There’s a difference between not trusting someone not to hurt me again and assuming that just because they hurt me once, that turned them into a sociopathic monster hellbent on deliberately causing more hurt just because they can. I don’t know what I did other than break up with you to make you think I’d get off on inflicting more damage, but that’s not why I’m here. That’s not what I want to do.”
“Then I guess I don’t have anything to worry about.” Emilio smiled tightly. “Look, you asked, so I answered. Maybe it wasn’t right or fair, but no, I couldn’t think of any other reason you’d come back here after so long. And while I may have thought I knew who you were twelve years ago, I turned out to be wrong, didn’t I? I thought you were the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Which means I never really knew you at all.”
“You weren’t wrong about knowing me.” Rayne pushed the plate holding his cinnamon roll aside, his appetite gone. “I wasn’t putting on an act with you. I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you. The only thing you were wrong about was the staying together part, but apparently that was enough to make me an untrustworthy stranger.”
“No, that was the twelve years since—during which you never once asked how I was. Never wrote. Never called. Never sent a card. My father died, and there wasn’t so much as a note of condolence. That’s why I don’t trust you, Rayne. Because if you’d loved me as you claim, you wouldn’t have thrown me out like a toy you no longer wanted.” Emilio rose to his feet. “And if you want to know, yes, I wrote you. Again and again. I kept those letters for years, ready to give you if you ever contacted me, so you’d know how I really felt. That I still wanted you, despite the hurt. But when my father died, I threw them out. Because that’s when I knew I was being foolish. Life goes on, so I did, too.”
“I don’t have an excuse,” Rayne said as he slid out of the booth and stood up as well. He’d hoped their conversation would help clear the air and make working together easier, but he wondered if it had made things worse instead. “At first, I didn’t contact you because I was absorbed in my new life. After my parents moved to Florida, I didn’t keep up with what was going on here. It wasn’t personal, and it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to hurt you.” He spread his hands and let them fall to his sides. “I thought about you, but for the first few years, I was a dumbass twenty-something with tunnel vision. After that, I wasn’t sure if contact would be welcome, so it was easier not to try. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Your life went on.” Emilio nodded as though Rayne had confirmed something. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “Look, I accept you aren’t here to ruin the playhouse or hurt me, okay? I get it. Dredging up the past isn’t doing either of us any good, and whoever we were twelve years ago, neither of us is the same man now. Maybe I was selfish too, not realizing you weren’t ready to commit. We both made mistakes. Maybe we should just let it go.”
“I hope we can,” Rayne said, although at this point, he wasn’t optimistic. He hadn’t realized how bitter and angry Emilio was or how Emilio seemed convinced Rayne had turned into some kind of monster.
“I guess we’ll see,” Emilio said. “You wanted to know, so I told you. To be honest, I expected you to turn around and make everything my fault or to stomp off in a fury, and you didn’t. I can respect that. I told you I won’t make trouble about the playhouse, and I won’t. Is that enough?”
“Yes, that’s enough,” Rayne said. “I appreciate it.”
“All right.” Emilio gave him a look, his dark gaze full of uncertainty. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Sure. See you around.” Rayne mustered a smile, and then he busied himself gathering up his plate and cup to take to the trash so he could avoid watching Emilio leave.
He hoped the conversation had given Emilio some measure of peace or closure so they could coexist in some kind of harmony. His own sense of balance was rattled because he hadn’t expected Emilio’s vitriol to be so fresh after twelve years, and he felt guilty for leaving town and never looking back. He and Emilio had been friends once, as well as boyfriends, and he should have kept up enough to know about William Rives’s death and offered condolences, if nothing else.
But he knew where he stood with Emilio now, and he knew he might as well forget about rekindling any old flames. He wasn’t sure Emilio would ever trust him enough that they could be friends again, but at least they could see each and interact without any underlying hostility. That would have to do.
