Page 182 of Ricardo

“You were accepting punishment you think you deserve.”

My hands flex once at my sides.

Julia’s eyes fill, but her chin stays lifted.

“You let Dante hit you because somewhere inside you, you still think part of this is payment. For Liliana. For custody. For the truth you kept from him. For being with me when you knew how he'd feel about it.”

“That is enough.”

“No.” Her voice breaks, but she continues strong. “Because you said I make myself small to protect people, and you were right. But you do this too. You make yourself guilty so everyone else has somewhere to put their pain.”

I stare at her, my jaw clenched.

No one speaks to me this way.

No one alive, perhaps, except Mario.

Now Julia.

She looks terrified as she says it, but she says it anyway.

“That punch was not justice,” she says. “It was Dante losing control. And you make excuses for him.”

My lip throbs.

“And I'm willing to bet he knew it,” she says.

My son’s face comes back to me. The shock after he struck me. The way his hand shook. The way his eyes went to the blood and then away.

“He knew it,” I say. “And hated himself for it.”

“Good.”

My gaze snaps to hers.

Julia’s face is pale, but her eyes do not waver.

“Good,” she repeats. “He should hate himself for it. He should know it was beneath him. And you should not take that from him by acting like he had every right.”

“He is not cruel.”

“I know.”

“He would never have struck me if—”

“If he wasn’t hurt?” she finishes. “If he wasn’t angry? If he wasn’t blindsided?” She shakes her head. “Those are exactly the excuses you said you don’t make for him.”

I look away.

Damn her.

Damn her for seeing too much.

Damn me for loving that about her.

“He needs me,” I say, and the words come out lower than I intend.

Julia’s expression changes.