Her lack of shock hurts and comforts me at the same time. How long has this been my life that people are not surprised when someone I know is murdered? When someone I love might be responsible. “You’re not horrified?” I whisper.
“Oh, I’m horrified,” she says. “But not surprised. That’s a different thing.”
I press my fingers to my temples. My head aches. “I met Matteo,” I say. “For dinner, as you knew. I wanted to try one last time to talk sense into him. But he confirmed what I already feared. That he’d never stop. That he’d always watch me. Hethreatened you, Lucien, my family if I didn’t do as he wished. He said I was still his in his mind, that I always would be.”
Stacy’s jaw tightens. “That sounds like him. The asshole.”
“I realized there wasn’t anything left. No way out. I decided I would leave New York, disappear again, hope he would lose interest. And then a few hours later he shows up on the news in a body bag.” I swallow hard. “And tonight, Lucien admitted what I feared most. He looked me in the eye and told me he killed Matteo. Like he was saying he had picked up dry cleaning or what type of bananas I wanted at the supermarket.”
Stacy’s eyes narrow. “How cold was he?”
“Very,” I say, thinking back. “He said he did it to protect me. That he would do it again. That he doesn’t regret it. Not even a little.” I stare down at my hands. And the worst part is I’m relieved. The man who terrorized me is gone and I’m relieved. What kind of person does that make me?
A horrible one. A person just as bad as Matteo.
Stacy lets me sit with my thoughts for a moment.
“And then…” A shaky laugh slips out. “Lucien tells me he loves me.” I inwardly cringe, hating that a moment that should be one I remember forever happened the way it did. The moment the man I love tells me he loves me, but it’s after he admits to murder. Not the memory I wanted.
Her eyes soften. “Yeah. That tracks.”
“I was so happy when he said it,” I confess, shamed in equal measure. “For a second it was like everything else disappeared. It felt right. Like I’ve been waiting to hear those words my whole life. And then I remembered the rest. That the man I love is capable of pulling a trigger. That he’s done it more than once.” I look at her, desperate and raw. “How can I be so happy when I know that? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Stacy says quietly. “You’re a woman in love with a complicated man.”
“Complicated,” I repeat. “That’s a soft word for killer.”
“Matteo was a killer too,” she says. “Except he enjoyed it and it was part of his lifestyle. Lucien isn’t that. There’s a difference, Briar.”
I shake my head, unable to clear my thoughts. “They’re both killers. They have both admitted it. They are from the same world. The same underworld. Yes, Lucien is good where Matteo was bad. But the end result is the same. Bodies. Blood. Violence.”
How can I walk back into that world with open eyes and claim I’m still the woman I want to be? How do I reconcile everything I say I stand for with the man I have given my heart to? “I can’t pretend I’m okay with murder just because it worked in my favor this time,” I whisper. “What happens next time? What if the next person he kills isn’t someone like Matteo? Where does it end?”
Stacy is quiet for a long moment. She studies my face, her eyes thoughtful. “Do you love him?” she asks.
The question lands like a stone in a still pond. There is no point lying. Not to her. Not to myself. “Yes.” My voice cracks. “So much it scares me. When I thought about leaving New York and never seeing him again, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I love him, Stace. I really do.”
She nods, as if that is the piece she has been waiting for. “Then there is no choice.”
I stare at her. “What do you mean, no choice?”
“If you love him,” she says calmly, “then you either accept him for who he is and what he has done, or you walk away and spend the rest of your life wonderingwhat if. He did something unforgivable, yes. Someone is dead because of him. But why did he do it? So you could live a life where you don’t have to look over your shoulder every waking hour.”
“That’s what he said,” I whisper.
“I’m sure it is,” she replies. “That doesn’t make it morally right, but it’s the truth. He removed a threat the police failed to deal with. If you stay with him, you’re choosing to live with that. If you leave him, you’re choosing to live without him. There’s no version of this where you win both ways.”
I close my eyes. I want a world where loving him doesn’t cost me anything. I want a world where he is just a man and I’m just a woman and there are no guns and no alleyways and no blood on anyone’s hands. I want something that cannot exist.
“You’re allowed to need time,” Stacy adds gently. “You don’t have to decide tonight. Or tomorrow. But don’t torture yourself pretending this is a simple question of right and wrong. It’s not. It’s messy. It’s human. And you’re in the middle of it.”
I nod slowly. I feel wrung out. Hollow and full at the same time. “I’m tired,” I say. “I think I should go. I need to be somewhere that is mine for a little while.”
“You can stay here,” Stacy offers.
“I know. But if I stay, we’ll just talk in circles. I need my own space for this.”
She leans forward and hugs me again, tighter this time. “Whatever you decide,” she says, “I’m on your side. Always.”
