"You got a minute to talk in private?" he asked, stopping just shy of where I was standing.
"Sure. We can talk in the garden shed." I turned to the photographer. "Do you have what you need?"
He nodded, so I excused myself and led Chris to the corner of the garden.
"The place looks awesome. You and Dani make a good team."
I felt like laughing at his remark as I pushed open the door to the shed, peering in to see if it were vacant. But I didn't laugh, instead ignoring it and gesturing he enter. "After you," I said, quickly glancing around the garden to see if anyone was watching us.
They weren't.
"Duck loves you," he announced before I'd even closed the door behind me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned on the surrounding benchtop. "Duck?
"Yep. It's her initials."
I knew it was her fucking initials. I also knew ducks had corkscrew dicks and even weirder shaped vaginas, but I didn't tell him that.
"And you're telling me this, why?" I asked.
"Because I love her, but not like you do, which is why I need you both to get your shit together." He placed his hands on the wall and dipped his head. "Fuck me," he groaned. "She's miserable, and I hate it when she's miserable because she's a pain in my arse. Plus, we go through a tin of Milo in a matter of days. I'm sick of making her Milo. You should be doing it."
I shook my head, confused, but was more concerned at hearing how miserable she was. "I don't know what to do or say, Chris. I don't have any answers."
He pushed off the wall and took a step toward me. "What do you mean you don't have any answers, you son of a bitch?"
"I'm the son of a bitch? You don't 'love her like I do' and yet you're happy to fuck her?"
He rolled his eyes. "I'm not fucking her."
"That's not what she said and you know it."
"You're a disappointment, mate," he said, picking up a nearby hand trowel. "No wonder you keep abandoning her-"
My body jerked at his choice of words. "Wait! What did you just say? Abandon? Why'd you say abandon?"
"Because that's what Dani says you do. She can't take it. Every time someone she loves leaves her, she dies inside, and apparently … " He pointed the trowel at me " … you've killed her the most."
I stood there, stunned, not knowing how to react. "I've done what?"
"That stupid look on your stupid face indicates you're stupid." He turned his back on me and balanced the handle of the trowel on his pointer finger. "This doesn't make sense. Dani said you're smart. A lawyer. Lawyers are supposed to be smart."
"What the fuck are you on about, Chris?"
"Think about it. Her father abandoned her. Her good for nothing boyfriends abandoned her. You abandoned her."
"I haven't abandoned her. I'm still here."
"The way she sees it, you abandoned her when you moved away, you abandoned her after she finally broke her own rule of intimacy with a friend, and you abandoned her that day in the storm drain."
A chill swept over my body, icing me to the bone. "I didn't abandon her in the storm drain."
"You left her alone to go and get help, right?"
"Well, yeah, but I-"
"You left her, mate. She was terrified you'd drowned to try and save her. You leaving her that day triggered abandonment issues. She saw a doctor for years because of it. She can't handle people leaving her so she doesn't let them stay to begin with. Only a select few. Only those she trusts. She trusted you, again, and you left her and broke her fucking heart and spirit."
"I didn't leave her again. I would never do that."
"Yeah? Well you did. You backed off after you fucked her."
"I had no choice."
"Of course you had a fucking choice."
"I was triggering her nightmares again."
"What?" The trowel wobbled and he caught it.
"That first night, after we made love, she had a nightmare. It was horrible. Then she had another the following night. She couldn't remember them, and she was adamant she hadn't had one for years." I turned my back to him and looked out the window, spotting her showing a young boy the carrots and tomatoes she'd grown. "It was me. I was triggering her memories of the storm and causing the nightmares to return. How could I stay so close knowing I was at fault? That's selfish."
The clatter of the trowel being placed back down on the bench sounded behind me. "It's not you. She has nightmares every now and again but doesn't wake. You don't trigger them, and neither does memories of the storm."
"If it's not me then what does?" I asked, feeling absolutely helpless.