"Eat a cookie," Megan pushed the Oreos toward me. "We need sugar. Sad brains need sugar. It's science."
I took one with a bitter smile. Just bit down when the doorbell rang.
Megan glanced at me, shuffled to the peephole in her fuzzy slippers, froze, then turned back. "He's here," she whispered. "I'll handle him. You don't move."
She blocked the doorway, opened it a crack, and used her whole body to fill the gap, looking up at whoever stood in the hall.
"Oh, Paul. What are you doing here this late?"
"Megan," his voice came calm. "I need to talk to Casey."
"Casey's not here."
"Her light's on."
"That's because I'm afraid of the dark."
"Megan—"
"And," her voice dripped sarcasm, "have you considered the possibility that she really doesn't want to see you tonight? I know this might be a novel concept for you, since Mr. Vincent's presence is usually welcome, but tonight's an exception. Thanks for understanding. Take care. Bye. Not walking you out."
"I left a jacket here," he interrupted. "I just came to get my jacket."
Megan didn't move. Looked back at me.
I took a deep breath. Put down the Oreo. Stood up. Walked to the door and pulled it open.
Paul Vincent stood in the hallway. Still in that suit, but his tie was loose, hair messed up. First time I'd ever seen him look this disheveled in front of anyone.
"Your jacket's in the closet," I said. "Get it yourself."
He didn't move.
"It's ten at night, Mr. Vincent," I said, surprisingly calm. "If you're here for the jacket, you have thirty seconds. If you're here for something else—"
"I came to apologize."
I paused. Then laughed. "Apologize? Didn't you already apologize on the street corner? What needs repeating?"
Paul stood there. Silent for a few seconds. Then spoke. "Tonight was my fault. The situation was complicated. I didn't handle it well. You've done so much for me. These past few years, everything you've done—I remember. You mean—"
"Paul," I cut him off. "Skip the preamble. What do you want to say? Say it directly."
He paused. "You were never just some mistress to me."
"Not a mistress?" I laughed bitterly. "Stop lying to yourself."
He stepped forward. "Casey, tonight was a special situation. You know I—"
"You what, Paul?" I looked him straight in the eye. "Have you brought me to a single family event in three years? Zero. Not once. It's not that you didn't have chances. You never planned to. I thought if I waited long enough you'd see me, respect me. And what did I get?"
He said nothing.
"You came here tonight," I said, "not because you actually think you did something wrong. You came because you can't sleep. You need an outlet to feel better about yourself. So tomorrow you can tell yourself 'I went and apologized' and move on with your life."
He stood there silently. Then suddenly pulled me into his arms.
This embrace hit harder than any words. Because something inside me betrayed me in that embrace, stopped obeying orders, wanted to lean in, wanted to pretend tonight never happened.
