"I'm fine." He stays in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, like he's holding himself back. "We need to talk."
Those four words land like stones in my chest. Nothing good ever follows "we need to talk." I pull the sheet tighter around myself, suddenly feeling exposed despite being covered.
"Okay," I manage.
He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice it's shaking slightly. "Tonight was a mistake."
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs.Not again, I think, and it takes everything in me to fight back the tears that are suddenly threatening. I feel small, used, and the ache in my chest spreads through me like wildfire. This was exactly what I was afraid of when he left. "What?"
"This." He gestures between us, and there's something almost desperate in his expression. "All of this. The date, the kissing, almost..." He trails off, his jaw clenching. "I'm all wrong for you, Maeve."
I stare at him, unable to process what I'm hearing. Hours ago, he'd kissed me by the river and told me he wanted to try. He'd looked at me like I was something precious. And now…
"You don't mean that," I say, but my voice wavers.
"I do." He finally looks at me, and his eyes are cold, distant. The same way he looked at me those first days after the wedding. "I'm too old for you. Too jaded. Too fucking cold. You deserve someone who can give you a normal life, not a killer who drags you into danger."
"Sean—"
“I got a lead tonight,” he continues, speaking over me. "On Brennan. I’m sure it was him. I’ll finish the job, and tell the Council that in return for taking care of him, I want you out of this. Once I take care of it, once you're safe, we can get an annulment. You can go back to Boston, and you'll be free. Free of this marriage. Free of me." He lets out a long, shaky breath. “We haven’t consummated it. I’ll admit to that. Admit that I lied in order to get you out of this. They’ll forgive me, after I’ve taken care of Brennan, righted my wrongs. As long as we don’t consummate, it can be annulled. Easier than a divorce. Faster.You’ll be able to marry well again, since you’ll be a virgin still on paper as well as in reality.”
Annulment. The word echoes in my head, and I feel something crack inside my chest. He wants to erase this. Erase us. Like we never happened. Like nothing he said to me, nothing I felt or he felt, ever existed.
"Is that what you want?" My voice comes out shakier than I wanted it to. "To pretend this never happened?"
"It's what's best for you." His voice is flat, emotionless, and that somehow makes it worse.
"Don't I get a say in what's best for me?" I'm standing now, the sheet falling away, forgotten. I'm still wearing his t-shirt, and the irony isn't lost on me. "Or do you get to make all my decisions for me, just like my father did? Just like Desmond?"
Something flickers in his expression, but it's gone before I can identify it. "This isn't the same thing."
"Isn't it?" I can feel tears burning behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him. "You're deciding what I need without asking me. You're pushing me away for my own good. How is that different?"
"Because I'm trying to protect you!" His voice rises, the first real emotion breaking through that cold facade. "From me. From this life. From everything that comes with being married to someone like me."
"I never asked you to protect me from yourself!" The words burst out of me, sharp and angry. "I asked you to let me in. To stop pushing me away. And the first time you do, the first time we have something real, you decide it was a mistake?"
"It was a mistake." But he doesn't sound convinced anymore. He sounds tired. Defeated.
I need space. I need to get away from him, from the suffocating weight of his rejection, but there's nowhere to go.The apartment is small, and I can't safely leave. I'm trapped here with him, with this pain that's threatening to tear me apart.
I push past him, heading for the living room, even though I know it won't help. Even though I know there's no escape.
"Maeve—" He follows me—of course he does—and I whirl on him.
"Don't." My voice breaks on the word. "Just don't."
"I'm doing this for you," he says, and there's something pleading in his voice now. "You have to understand that. Everything I do is to keep you safe, to give you a chance at a real life?—"
"A real life?" I laugh, and it comes out bitter, edged with hysteria. "My father is dead. My sister is dead. My brother is dead. I've been shot at, nearly killed in an explosion, forced to marry a stranger. And now my husband—the one person I thought might actually want me—is telling me he doesn't. That I was a mistake. So please, Sean, tell me more about this real life you think I deserve."
He flinches like I've struck him, and all I can think isgood. I suddenly want him to hurt the way I'm hurting, and it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted something like that. I never felt that way with Desmond or Saoirse, never wanted them to hurt just because they’d hurt me. I hate him, suddenly, for making me feel something like that. For breaking something in me.
"I lost everything," I continue, and now the tears are falling, hot and angry down my cheeks. "Everything. And I know it's not your fault; I know you didn't ask for this any more than I did, but I thought... tonight I thought maybe something good could come from all of this. That maybe we could be something real. But I guess I was wrong."
"You weren't wrong." His voice is rough, broken. "Maeve… you weren't wrong."
"Then why are you doing this?" I'm crying openly now, past the point of pride or dignity. "Why are you pushing me away?"
