His eyes were wide. “You offered to spend a couple of hundred grand on a riding yard? Just like that? Fucking hell, Carl. And what did she say to that?”
I shrugged. “She said no, said it was too much. Said it was crazy. She didn’t understand why I’d offer, wanted to know why.”
“No fucking shit. And what did you say?”
I didn’t answer.
“Please tell me you didn’t. Not like that. Not when her dreams have gone to shit and there’s an offer of a crazy fucking bankroll swaying over her head. Please tell me you didn’t fucking do that, Carl.”
I had no words. I refilled my glass.
His face turned pale, a hand over his mouth, pacing back and forth. “You told her, didn’t you? Fucking hell, Carl, you fucking told her.”
“She wanted to know why. She wanted to know what I wanted. She wanted to know, Rick.”
“And so you just told her. Great. That’s fucking great.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I was. “I should have waited. I should have given it more time.”
He slammed his palm on the island. “Too fucking right you should have waited, Carl! Too fucking right!” He let out a sigh that sounded more like a wail. “We had it good, Carl. She was good. She was amazing. She was everything we fucking wanted, everything I fucking wanted.” He clenched his fists against the marble. “I fucking love her, Carl.”
There were tears in his eyes and an ache in my stomach, a horrible pitiful pang of regret. “So do I.”
He shook his head, eyes closed. “Tell me everything. Every fucking thing you said.”
And so I did. I told him everything.
Rick listened and shook his head all the way through my sorry recap. His face said it all, reinforced what I already knew. I’d fucking blown it.
“She said it’s not goodbye,” I said. “She said it was a see you later, not a goodbye.”
“She’s going to say that, isn’t she?” He grabbed himself a beer from the fridge, chugged it back. He pulled his tobacco from his pocket, rolled a cigarette. “I can’t believe you did it. After everything we said.”
“You can believe it,” I said. “Of course you can. She asked, I answered.”
He held up a hand, waved me to shut the fuck up. “I need a fucking smoke,” he said, and left me. He let himself out through the back door, and the security light came on, illuminated him as he paced up and down the path. He smoked one and lit up another, and I watched, sipping wine in misery while he fumed.
He was outside for an age, pacing and smoking.
I’d moved to the living room by the time he came back in, my stomach paining worse than ever as reality set in.
He propped himself in the doorway, his face stripped of its easy charm. I sat forward in my seat, forced out the words I’d been churning around my mind.
“Her issues are with me, Rick, not you. It was all about what I wanted.”
He shrugged. “So? What does that matter now?”
I met his eyes, holding the gaze even through the anger in his. “My point is you could… be with her. You two could still… without me… I’m the problem, Rick, I know I’m the problem. She knows it, too.”
His lips were tight, eyes hollow and wide. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say I’m sorry, that I don’t want to ruin this for you, for either of you.” It hurt so fucking bad to say it. “I’m saying you could be with her. You and her.” I clasped my hands in my lap. “I’d understand, Rick. You shouldn’t have to pay the price for my mistakes.”
I didn’t want to look at him, turned my head away as he stepped towards me.
“Hey,” he said, dropping to my side on the sofa. “What the hell is this?”
“I fucked up,” I admitted, and my words came out choked.
“Probably,” he said. “But we’re together, you and me. We come together or not at all. That’s never gonna change, Carl, no matter what.” He pressed his hand to my cheek, turned my face to his. “Look at me.”
I looked at him, and I felt defeated. Empty. Guilty.
“I’m pissed off, and fucking gutted, and think you’re a dick for running your blunt fucking mouth off, but you’re still the best fucking man I’ve ever known. You’re still the one I want