"I'm sorry." Atticus almost shouts it. "You gave me every opportunity to get my head screwed on straight that morning. Youtriedto make me see reason, but I fucking spiraled anyway. Andgod,I can still hear the wobble in your voice when I pinned you to the wall, and you told me to stop…and I…" He swallows back a gag. "And I didn't."
Heat pools in my stomach.
"And then I called you a liar and a…a backstabbing whore, and…" He wipes a palm over his mouth as if it might stop him talking. "It was so fucked."
We've already heard it all, but hearing it again reminds me why I stayed so fucking angry at him for so long. If he wasn't clearly taking strides to make this right…
My fist clenches on the table and I make a conscious effort to uncurl it.
This is huge, I tell myself. Atty may not see it, but she's changing him, too. He's always saying how good she is for Eli, and for me—but no one has been able to have this much effect on Attyever. Save for maybe Flo when she was still alive.
Céline's expression hardens as she watches Atticus. "This is why you've been so quiet."
Atty's lips flatten into a firm line.
"I'm disappointed in you," Céline says, and he actually winces at her words, but she isn't finished. "You must stop thinking everyone is your enemy. We've talked about this?—"
"I know," he interrupts.
"No, you don't, because you still have not learned…" She trails off with a sigh. "But I can see now that you are learning."
She turns to Aurora. "I won't make excuses for him," she says. "But if you knew him as I do, you would know that everything he does is for the good of those he cares for. And even if thetête de nœudis too stubborn to see it, you're good for him. Don't give up on him."
"That's not fair," Aurora murmurs.
"Perhaps not, but I felt compelled to say it anyway."
She turns back to Atticus. "And you—I hope you see the damage that can be caused by your incessant need to control everything. This girl should be treated with nothing but the utmost respect, especially with what she's trying to help you boys accomplish."
Atticus's eyes darken. "I know."
"Good."
She pushes up from the table, wobbling a little. "I think that's enough wine for me. You think about what I said, Atticus."
He nods gravely as she makes her way from the dining room toward the stairs.
"Well, that's one way to ruin a perfectly good evening," I say in a strained whisper, sipping my wine.
"You're not," Atticus says to Aurora. "You aren't any of those awful things I said you were. You never were. Not even for a second."
"Maybe we put this to bed for the night?" Eli presses, but I can tell by the haunted look on Atticus's face that he isn't done.
"I—I'm fucked up, Trouble. I'm not a good person. Not like Sev and Eli. Not likeyou."
"I think I'm done for the night, too," Aurora says, rising to leave. I move to stop her, or maybe to go with her, but she slips from my fingers and rushes from the room.
Atticus sags in his seat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"I had to say it," he whispers toward the table. "Just one more time. She needs to know that I am not going to give up."
40
DO YOUR WORST
AURORA
I'm going to tell them in the morning.
