The flowers were beautiful, and maybe his words were a little nice. His eyes were genuine, even if I wanted to poke them.
My hands moved on autopilot, taking the flowers and carrying them to the kitchen. I pulled a vase from under the sink and filled it with water. The ritual gave me something to do with my hands besides slap him again.
"You're down to three minutes," I said, arranging the stems with more force than necessary.
Eric leaned against my counter, close enough I could smell him. Clean, masculine, familiar in a way that made my chest ache. He'd always made the effort to be clean and wear nice clothes. Looked after himself.
"The work opportunity was a lie."
I kept my eyes on the flowers as my heart skipped a beat.
"My brother was murdered." His voice stayed level, controlled. "Daniel. My family needed me back home."
My hands stilled on a rose stem.
"I knew I was in no state to be what you needed. Knew the family business would keep me there, probably permanently."
"What business?" My voice was soft now. Daniel. I knew the name. From stories he'd shared with me when we were dating. His big brother, one he looked up to.
Eric had never been one to lie about something like this. I couldn't imagine he would, and it would make sense.
"Construction. Large scale projects, commercial buildings, infrastructure." He paused. "I'm set to run it now."
I turned to face him, leaning against the counter opposite. "So you just decided for me? That I couldn't handle it?" I swallowed down my hurt and anger. Now I had a proper reason, an answer for why I'd not been enough to keep him.
He'd lost someone he'd loved, and he'd returned to those who needed him more.
I wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"It's not the life you wanted. Late nights, office work, endless meetings." He rubbed his jaw. "Your whole world was spontaneity and freedom. Dancing until three AM, road trips on a whim, making art at midnight because the mood struck."
"And you thought I'd what, wilt under a regular schedule?" I scoffed. He had no idea what I could adapt to if I chose to.
"I thought you'd be miserable."
"That should have been my choice." My voice cracked. "You took that from me. Took everything."
"How could I take everything?" His eyes found mine. "You still had Elena, Anna?—"
"Anna got diagnosed with ovarian cancer a year after you left."
The color drained from his face.
"Stage three. They gave her maybe two years, three if we were lucky." I gripped the counter edge. "Elena and I watched her waste away. Held her hair while she puked from chemo. Sat in waiting rooms wondering if each treatment would be the last."
"Ivy—"
"I lost my job because I kept missing shifts to take her to appointments. Elena struggled as well. I took up odd jobs and dancing, whatever I could to make the money needed. We were drowning, and I had no one." The words poured out, the pain rising to the surface once more. So many times, I'd sold my body just to make ends meet, allowed men to touch me and grind on me, and even more.
To survive. Because the only ones I had left were struggling.
"No one to lean on. No one to tell me it would be okay. Because the person I thought would be there had decided I was too flighty, too chaotic, too much work."
"Is she—" He swallowed hard. "Is Anna okay?"
Something in my chest softened at the genuine concern in his voice. Anna had liked Eric. Said he was good for me, steadied me without trying to change me.
"She's in remission now. Has been for almost a year."
