She shoves her middle finger up at me, and I crack up laughing.
“It’s fair to say I’ve led a more sheltered, less reckless existence than you,” she says, and all my good humor fades, quickly replaced by familiar anger when I think of the privileged upbringing my twin has enjoyed.
Knowing Reeve got to spend his formative years with the woman currently holding my hand only adds to my rage.Where is the fairness in all of this?
“Did I say something wrong?” Her frown is immediate.
I pull her to a halt before we reach the edge, forcing a smile as I try to shake off my anger and recover my good mood. It’s not Vivien’s fault I was tossed to the side like garbage and denied the upbringing I should have had. “Don’t mind me. I’m a moody fucker.”
“I’ve noticed. At least you’re self-aware. There’s a lot to be said for that.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware of all my failings.”
After laying down the blanket, we sit down, side by side, and I unpack our lunch before quickly tucking in.
“This is delicious.” She licks her fingers after demolishing a chicken and a tuna sandwich. “What deli did you get it from?”
I grin at the compliment. “Deli O’Donoghue.”
Her eyes widen. “You made these?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I have many talents.” I waggle my hands in front of her face. “These hands areveryskilled.”
“They’ve had enough practice, I’m sure,” she murmurs.
I brush some stray hairs back off her face. “Does my history with women turn you off?”
She waits a few beats before replying. “A little, if I’m being honest. But you can’t change your past any more than I can change mine.”
“Would you want to?” I’m thoroughly invested in her reply.
“That’s the million-dollar question.” She stares at the sea before cocking her head to one side and focusing her attentionon me. “If I could erase the last couple of years, I would, but before that, everything was perfect. In a lot of ways, it’s easier to cling to the hurtful stuff, to let my anger override my other emotions. It’s easier to forget about the good times, but there were lots of good times,” she quietly admits, brushing crumbs off her lap and keeping her head down.
“What’s he like?” I ask.
She whips her head up, fixing her eyes on mine.
“I’m guessing everything reported isn’t true,” I add. I know the media love spinning shit, but they’ll often take the truth and embellish it. I want to know how much of what’s been written online is true. While I don’t want to spend our first date talking about her ex, I’m curious for her spin on things. Vivien is most likely the person who knows him best, and I want to hear her opinion of him.
“It’s not. Reeve isn’t a bad person, and I know he loved me. I guess he just lost his way.”
That’s no excuse, and I’m disappointed she’s making allowances for him. “That sounds like polite bullshit.” Handing her a bottle of water, I work hard to restrain the anger waiting to surface.
“I need to believe he was manipulated and tricked into following the path he did, because the other reality is too hurtful. If he knew what he was doing, it means he didn’t care that he hurt me, and that thought is unbearable.”
Tears well in her eyes, and now I feel like a piece of shit. When she puts it like this, I get it. She’s telling herself what she must for her sanity and survival, and I can’t fault her for it. Sure, I’m doing the same. Ignoring the part where I’m going to deliberately hurt her because it upsets me every time I think about her being collateral damage. The only way I can do this is to avoid thinking of it like that, so it’s hypocritical of me to criticize her for doing the same.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.” Sliding my arm around her shoulders, I pull her in tight as guilt slaps me across the face. When she rests her head against my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to be sitting here with her like this. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“How much of a basket case I am?” she says, half laughing, half crying.
“How badly he damaged your heart and whether there’s any hope for an impatient asshole like me.” The words come straight from my heart.
Her head rises from my shoulder, and she turns into me placing her arms around my neck. My heart is crashing around my chest wall, throwing shapes and jumping hoops. “He hurt me, but I’m not some fragile broken doll you need to walk on eggshells around.”
I hold her face in my hands, hoping she can’t feel how badly I’m trembling. Being this close to her is exhilarating but terrifying too. “I already know that, Viv. I just don’t want to rush you when you’re not ready. You’ll need to set the pace because the very last thing I want to do is hurt you too.”
“I think you’re a liar, Dillon O’Donoghue.”
