He smiled faintly. “No.”
Encouraged, I continued. “Maybe your communication skills could use a little work, but what does she want?”
“A whole man.”
“Oh God.”The scars. I grasped his hand. “When you were hurt, were you... Can’t you...?”
He looked at me, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. Or maybe that was a reflection on his glasses. “I’m quite capable, thank you. But I was in hospital for three months. Rehab for six months after that. At the time, Laura felt—based on the doctors’ reports—she hadn’t signed on to take care of an invalid for the rest of her life.”
“So she broke up with you.” I squeezed his hand again.
“Actually...” Another pause, as if he were debating how much to tell me.
“You broke up with her,” I said. “To set her free.”
Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Nothing so noble, I’m afraid. Laura expected me to work for my father after uni. She was willing enough to wait while I did my military service. But when things went south, she was afraid she’d made a mistake. She didn’t believe in me. She didn’t believe in us.”
“And Charles?” I asked.
“He came to see me in hospital. Rather frequently. They both did. I believe they comforted each other.”
“Cheated on you, you mean.”
“Yes.”
“Ouch. And now she wants you back.”
He tilted his head. “I didn’t say that.”
But I’d seen them together. How she touched him. The way she’d warned me. “Be careful with this one. He has no heart.”
I waved my hand toward the hall, where, presumably, Charles was sleeping it off. “He was provoked, you said. So there must still be a chance for you and Laura to get back together.”
“None at all. I don’t have your forgiving nature.”
“Me?”
“You said you could have forgiven cheating. When we were talking about that Kettering fellow. Who’s an arse, by the way.”
“He’s actually considered brilliant. A new lion of American letters.” It was in his bio.
“Full of himself, I thought.”
“Wait.” I thought back desperately, trying to sort out what I’d said to whom. “You know who he is?”
“Gray from Kansas. It was obvious once I’d read the book.”
“Shit. You read it?” I cringed, recalling Gray’s descriptions of Destiny Gayle’s “long, udder-shaped nipples” (page 73) and “lusty barnyard sexuality” (page 219). Her parrot-like intelligence. That horrible horned-mask scene. I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my God. You must think I’m—”
“Nothing like the character in the novel,” Tim said firmly.
I lowered my hands.
“I may not be an English major,” he continued. “But I recognize a complete fiction when I see it. That girl isn’t you.”
“Thanks.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hearsomeone say it like that. Flat out. “You’re the only one who thinks so.”
He frowned. “Surely your family... Your friends...”
