It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,78

or in love with you to see it.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

I hated him. I hated me. Hatred raged through my body as helpless tears flowed from my eyes. I had to rethink everything now. All my memories were lies. Half of my life had been a lie. The unfairness of it made me feel like I was drowning. My naïve stupidity made me want to die.

“Oh my God,” I choked out as I leaned against the wall and pressed my cheek to the cool plaster. “Were you seeing other men while we were married?”

I didn’t want the answer, but I needed to know. Did I need to get checked for an STD?

“No, Daisy. I’ve never been with a man.”

“Ever?” I whispered, still unable to look at him.

“No.”

I felt even sicker. Why did I feel sorry for him when he’d knowingly destroyed me? Steve had made me feel like I wasn’t enough of a woman.

What the hell was wrong with me? Did I have no self-preservation instincts at all? Did my Southern manners own me?

“Why?” I whispered.

“Why what?” Steve asked.

“Why were you never with a man?”

Steve sighed and then stayed silent.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” I said, tasting the salty tears as they continued to run down my cheeks.

I believed what I said. One of my best friends was a lesbian. Sexuality didn’t define a person—character did.

Steve’s character was sorely lacking to the point of being criminal.

“I couldn’t, Daisy,” he said flatly. “I just couldn’t.”

“Why?” I hissed, turning to glare at him. I wasn’t going to hide my pain. He deserved to see it after what he’d done. “Your upbringing? Are you going to blame the way you grew up as your reason for ruining my life?”

Steve was gutted. He grew more transparent as the conversation—or rather, come-to-Jesus, if you will—went on.

“When I met you, I fell in love,” he said cautiously. “You were the perfect woman.”

“Steve, don’t,” I said, holding up my hands. “Don’t lie to me anymore. We’re way past that now.”

“I’m not lying. You were so smart and beautiful… and alive. You made me feel whole—normal—loved. I thought I could be a different man with you—a real man.”

“Many real men are gay,” I said with very little emotion in my voice. “A real man is honest with himself about who he is.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry is not really cutting it right now. I loved you,” I told him. “With everything I had. I thought I was broken and you didn’t want me in that way.”

Speaking the words aloud that we should have spoken many years ago was miserable. Both of our lives could have been vastly different.

“Sadly, I still love you,” I whispered.

“I don’t deserve your love, Daisy.”

I picked at the cuticle on my thumb and wondered if he was right.

“I know,” I told him, wanting to hurt him. I was a life-sized bloody open wound. I was also kind and honest. Right now, I despised those particular qualities about myself. “But I love you anyway. I hate you, but my love can’t disappear that easily.”

“You’re not broken,” Steve said. “I was broken because I couldn’t accept who I was. Because I was such a coward, I destroyed your life too.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. He was right. I didn’t think I would ever become unbroken. I’d lived too long this way. I’d missed the opportunity to be whole a lifetime ago.

“I don’t regret our life, Daisy. I treasure every moment we had. What I regret is…”

“Harming me to the point of no return?” I asked, still feeling spiteful.

It infuriated me that I could understand and feel compassion for his pain. I believed that he did love me. He loved me completely but in a non-sexual way. He’d been both a gift and a curse to me.

We had been happy. I’d always felt safe and adored as a person—person being the operative word. I’d never felt loved as a woman, but I didn’t know anything else. I never knew my father or grandfather. I hadn’t grown up around a healthy, loving male-female relationship. Gram never even dated, or if she did, I didn’t know about it.

“Steve, I need to ask you a question,” I said, as my stomach dropped yet again and my chest tightened.

“You can ask me anything, Daisy.”

“Was your death really an accident? Or did you want to get away from me?”

The sound that came from Steve sent chills skittering down my spine. It was filled with