One Night: Promised(116)

‘I could have been like that,’ I whisper, shame beginning to flood me, my head dropping.

My face is grasped and pulled to him, but I keep my eyes low, not wanting to face the contempt he’ll be showing. ‘We’re talking, Livy.’

‘I’ve said enough.’

‘No, you haven’t. Look at me.’

Forcing my eyes up, I meet his, but there’s no contempt. There’s no anything. Even now, Miller Hart gives nothing away. ‘I wanted to know where she’d gone.’

He frowns. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘I read her journal. I read about the places she went and who with. I read about a man. A man named William. Her pimp.’

He’s just staring at me. He knows where I’m heading.

‘I put myself in her world, Miller. I lived her life.’

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Yes, I did. What was so amazing about that life that it kept her from being a mother? That it made her abandon me?’ I fight to control the tears threatening to break free again. I refuse to shed another tear for that woman. ‘I found Nan’s gin and then I found William. I tricked him into taking me on and he set me up with clients. Her clients. I went through most of the men listed in my mother’s journal.’

‘Stop,’ he whispers. ‘Please stop.’

I harshly brush at my wet cheeks. ‘All I found was the humiliation of letting a man slam into me.’

He winces. ‘Don’t say that, Livy.’

‘There was nothing glamorous or appealing about mindless sex.’

‘Livy, please!’ he yells, pushing me from his body and standing, leaving me feeling exposed and lonely on his bed. He starts pacing around his room, clearly agitated, his head falling back on a curse. ‘I don’t understand. You’re so pure and beautiful to the core. I love that.’

‘Alcohol got me through it. I was just there in body. But I couldn’t stop. I kept thinking there had to be more, something I was missing.’

‘Stop!’ He flies around and hammers me with an enraged glare, making me jump back on the bed in shock. ‘Any man who’s done anything less than worship you should be fucking shot!’ He crouches on the floor, his hands in his hair. ‘Fuck!’

My entire being goes lax – my body, my mind and my heart. It’s all given up, my past very much in my present and forcing me to explain myself. He looks up at me. His blues are boring into me. Then they close and he pulls in a long, calming breath of air, but I don’t give him time to start firing his thoughts at me. I have a good idea what they are, anyway.

I’ve ruined his opinion of his pure, beautiful girl. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say evenly as I drag myself off the bed. ‘I’m sorry for destroying your ideal.’ I collect his shirt from the floor and calmly start to put it on. I can feel the pain turning in my gut, stirring years of anguish and misery.

I draw my discarded knickers up my thighs, pick up my shoes and bag from the floor and walk out of his bedroom, knowing that this time I’ll be able to leave. And I do. The evident contempt that he feels makes me turn the handle of the door with ease, and I’m on my way down the corridor to the stairwell, my bare feet dragging the floor along with my fallen heart.

‘Please don’t go. I’m sorry for shouting at you.’

His soft voice halts me mid-step and rips my breaking heart from my chest. ‘Don’t feel obligated, Miller.’

‘Obligated?’

‘Yes, obligated,’ I say, starting down the steps again. Miller feeling guilty over his violent reaction isn’t what I need, nor is sympathy. I’m not sure what the happy medium is of those two, but acceptance and understanding might help. It’ll be more than I allow myself.

‘Livy!’ I can hear his bare feet coming after me, and when he lands in front of me, I mildly register that he’s wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts. ‘I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you,’ he grinds. ‘When I’m talking to you, you look at me.’

He’s saying that because he doesn’t know what else to say. ‘And what will you say if I do look at you?’ I ask, because I don’t need to see disgust or guilt or sympathy.

‘If you look at me, you’ll find out.’ He hunkers down to get in the field of my dropped vision, prompting me to glance up. I find his beautiful face completely expressionless, and while I usually find this frustrating, right now I’m relieved because with no expression, there is no contempt or any of the other emotions that I don’t want to see. ‘You’re still my habit, Livy. Don’t ask me to give you up.’