“I suppose part of me wanted you to discover it,” he confesses. “I knew you would eventually.”
“I’m surprised it took me so long.”
“I never had the guts to just come out and tell you. I was scared shitless that you’d leave me, Mischa. I was a fucking coward.”
My gaze is unforgiving. “You were.”
We both fall into a strained silence. My fingers dance over the fabrics of my clothing; silk, lace, cotton.
“So, she really is yours,” I say. “I was about ninety-five percent sure.”
“Yes, she is,” he says. “I’m almost positive.”
An unexpected brush of anger sweeps over me as I imagine him and Renee in the act of procreation. “How could you… have?”
He pulls his gaze from mine, and rubs at his beautiful face.
“It was the night of Ryan’s party, right?” I ask.
He nods. “I swear, Mischa. It was only the one time. I was drunk and hurting, and pissed off with you. You weren’t there for me—”
“Don’t you dare turn this on me, Brian,” I snap. “You stick your dick in some long-legged blonde and it’s my fucking fault?!”
“I’m sorry… I know it was me. It was all me. My mistake. I was a stupid messed up kid. I was a fucking pig.”
“Yes, you were,” I tell him. “I want to know everything.”
“Mischa… you don’t—”
“Don’t fucking tell me what I want. I want to know every fucking detail.”
He blows out an audible breath. He knows he’s not going anywhere soon.
“What happened after I left the party?” I ask.
“I was upset. I wanted to run after you, but there was this other angry part of me that said, ‘Fuck her.’”
I understand where he’s coming from. I remember. I know I’d been selfish, too caught up in my own issues. He’s right — I wasn’t there for him.
“Renee came up to me and said I should forget all about you. She was all over me. Her hands were in my hair, between my legs…”
“Did you want her? Did she make you hard?”
He shakes his head, not answering.
“Did she?! Did she fucking make you hard?”
He nods. “What do you think, Mischa? I was a stupid twenty year-old kid, and she was all over me. But I swear, it was just sex. It wasn’t like I was thinking, ‘She’s so cute. I love the way she smiles, and that dimple on her right cheek. I want to marry that girl.’ She was never you, Mischa.”
I don’t know what to say, so I say absolutely nothing.
“It was fucking, that’s all it was. I was half-drunk, just sober enough to get it up. I barely remembered what had happened the next day. I just remembered enough to know I’d done it. You don’t know how guilty I felt about it, how guilty I’ve been feeling ever since.”
“Such a burden for you,” I say, my words sharp. “What kind of underwear was she wearing?”
He averts his eyes. “I don’t know… something pink, I think. Like I said, I barely remember.”
Enough about that night. You know all there is to know, Mischa. He’s not going to give you more.
