"Yeah. Metal not touching flesh doesn't get re-formed."
"Meaning we'll have to go somewhere else to decipher the clue." He paused, and a sudden, somewhat cheeky smile touched his lips. "My place is nice and close. And I probably still have some of your clothes hanging around."
I blinked. "Why the hell would you still have those?"
He shrugged. "Couldn't be bothered throwing them out. And it wasn't like they were taking up a whole lot of space."
"I bet that must have pleased the hell out of the girlfriends that followed me."
"It wasn't a problem because there weren't any. Only bed partners."
I snorted. "You seriously expect me to believe —"
"Yes, because it's true." His gaze held mine. "My work may be the most important thing in my life, then and now, but you were, believe it or not, the next best thing."
"Being the next best isn't exactly a compliment," I noted dryly. "And it doesn't exactly explain why you've had no girlfriends since."
"Ours wasn't the first relationship I wrecked over a story, but it was the last. I decided it was better for everyone if I just didn't go there."
I stared at him for a minute. "Good god, was that a touch of remorse in your voice?"
"More an acknowledgment that forming attachments to get a story probably isn't the best way to go about things."
Which was probably as close to a sorry as I was ever likely to get. I folded the piece of paper and slipped it into my pocket. "You could have decided that before you printed the story about my mom and destroyed what we had."
"No, I couldn't have."
Because it had taken that destruction for him to see the light – although I had no doubt the threats from Uncle Rhoan, Aunt Riley, and Ilianna had also played a part. They'd certainly prevented him from printing the remaining part of the story. "I can see you becoming a very lonely old man."