I clench my eyes shut and hold on to him a little tighter, remembering our visit to my parents and his reaction to my mother implying that he’d married me because I was pregnant.
“The joint effort of both families did an amazing job of convincing the community that we were hopelessly in love.”
“She was,” I whisper, knowing the direction in which this story is heading.
“And I wasn’t,” he confirms quietly. “I was married off and moved into her parents’ country estate within a month. Everyone was happy, except me.” His fingers play idly with my hair, and he draws a painful breath before continuing. “Carmichael gave me an escape, and I finally plucked up the courage to call a halt on the whole diabolical farce, but when Rosie arrived, I was determined to be a dad. That little girl was the only person on the planet who loved me for me, no expectations or pressure; she just accepted me in her innocence. It didn’t matter that she was a baby.”
All of this is filling me with immense pride, but this story doesn’t have a happy-ever-after. And it crushes me.
“She was a real daddy’s girl,” he says fondly. “I could do no wrong, and I knew I never would in her eyes. That was enough to make me evaluate the lifestyle I’d slipped into while Lauren was pregnant. Carmichael got the best solicitor involved to try and gain me full custody because he knew that she was my redeemer, but Lauren’s family dug up every dirty little secret, from Jake to The Manor to my brief lifestyle from when I’d left Lauren until Rosie was born. I didn’t have a hope.”
“And your parents had moved to Spain by then?” I ask.
He jerks on a hiss as he laughs quietly. “Yes, they escaped the shame I’d brought on the family.”
“They abandoned you,” I whisper.
“They wanted me to go with them. Mum begged, but I couldn’t leave Rosie full-time with that family. She’d be frowned upon as an illegitimate child, even though she had me. Not an option.”
“So then what?”
“Rosie was three and I made the worst mistake of my life.” He pauses, and I know he’s munching on that bottom lip. “I slept with Sarah.”
“Sarah?” I’m frowning heavily into his neck. How does Sarah play any part in this?
“Carmichael and Sarah were together.”
“They were?” I’m scrambling with care from his hold now, but this time he lets me. He is chewing that lip and he’s holding his breath, too. “Sarah and Carmichael? But I thought he was a playboy.”
“He was. With a girlfriend…” He flinches as he inhales. “And a child.”
“What?” I’m sitting up fully now. “Go on,” I push. This story isn’t taking the direction that I thought it would at all.
He takes another long, painful breath. I should tell him to stop and rest, but I don’t. “Carmichael walked in on me and Sarah. He hit the roof, got the girls, and left.”
Oh good Lord. “The girls?” I ask. I don’t know why. I know who the girls are.
“Rosie and Rebecca.”
“Your Rosie and their Rebecca,” I whisper. “The car accident?”
He nods mildly and clenches his eyes shut. “I didn’t just kill my uncle and my daughter. I killed Sarah’s girl, too.”
“No.” I shake my head. “That can’t be your fault.”
“I think you’ll find that my poor decisions have been the cause for everything, Ava. I’ve fucked up on so many levels so many times, and I’ve paid for it, but I can’t pay for it now, not now that I have you. What if I make a bad decision again? What if I screw up again? What if I’m not done paying?”
His demand for compliance on everything is crystal clear. Too clear. He really does live in terror, but it’s far worse than I ever imagined. He blames himself for everything, and maybe his carelessness played a small part, but ultimately he’s not responsible. He wasn’t driving the car that hit Jake. He wasn’t driving the car with the girls. He didn’t want to get married and he definitely wanted to be a proper father. And Sarah? That has totally floored me. She had a child with Carmichael, but was in love with her boyfriend’s nephew? Fucking hell, this is complicated stuff. Sarah really does have nothing, and after losing both her daughter and her lover, she sought solace in The Manor, a little bit like Jesse did. Two tortured souls drowning themselves in whips, sex, and drink, but never in each other. That was Jesse’s choice, though. Not Sarah’s.
“You are more than done paying.” My eyes land on his stomach. He’s paid physically and mentally, and it’s made my husband a neurotic control freak now that he has something he cares about again.