answer. So, after looking around the bar that was starting to fill with bodies as the hands moved around the clock, she turned back to him.
"You really didn't realize how bad she was? I find that hard to believe."
"How so?"
"You aren't exactly a moron, Tate."
He pretended to fall backwards, hands gripping his chest. "Be still my beating heart, Rachel. I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
She tried not to smile, she really, really did. But she couldn't, so she turned her head away from him. When she had her traitorous lips under control, she looked back to where he was smiling that cursed smile again. So annoying, and so, so hot. Her pleasantly numb tongue ran along the edge of her front teeth, and she decided to just ask, while they were being all drunk and honest and shit.
"So, when you overheard that phone call, that was seriously the first time you thought about breaking up with her?"
Tate closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, she saw the pain there. Just like she had the night he was at Casey's and they found out what happened to make him leave Natalie. Casey had been recovering from an attack from a freakazoid customer, and thank God, he had been stopped before actually raping her, but it had been terrifying for all of them to see the always smiling, unflagging optimism of Casey even a little bit beaten down. And as the cherry on top of the shit sundae of that week, they'd pried it out of Tate that the reason he'd broken up with Natalie was that he'd heard her tell someone on the phone that Casey's attack had been her own fault, that she'd deserved it.
Rachel gripped her shot glass a little tighter, bright red rage coursing through her veins just thinking about it, the hot rush of anger feeling out of place among the liquor cloud around her head. That night, oh that night, she'd felt murderous seeing the look of defeat shadowing Casey's eyes after hearing what Natalie had said. And still, months later, Rachel wouldn't exactly be sad if she were walking through a dark alley, wearing some brass knuckles, and happened to run into Natalie. Fun, so much fun, could be had in that situation. Thankfully, he spoke again, breaking her out of her 'let's dream about roughing up Natalie' daze.
"It may sound insane, but yes, it was. Hearing her say that about my sister." He pressed a fist above his heart and his face hardened and Rachel figured he was hearing it all over again. "It was the first moment in almost six years that the light bulb really went off for me. There was no way I could ever marry someone who could say that about anyone, let alone Casey. Of course over the years, I had moments where I wondered if I justified her behavior too much. Wondered if she was clingy because she just loved me that much, or if it was more controlling in nature. But honestly, Natalie and I had a peaceful relationship. In all those years, we never fought once."
"Shut up. Not once?" Rachel asked, highly skeptical. Who never fought? How was that humanly possible? She and Marc hadn't fought a lot, but they'd had a few yelling matches over the years.
He shook his head. "Never. It was rare when it happened, but Natalie was very passive aggressive when she disagreed with me. I know her mother is the same way, because she always said she wanted a marriage that was like her parents. Which should have raised yet another red flag, because while her parents tolerate each other, they certainly aren't happy."
She gave a small laugh, shaking her head.
"What?"
"Nothing." No way was she going into her parents’ relationship with him. After that many years with Natalie, he'd never understand the love/hate, back and forth tempestuousness she'd lived with her entire life. Her parents loved each other, no doubt about that, but she'd seen them screaming at each other as often as she'd caught them making out in the hallway. Or the bathroom. Or their room. Or in the backyard. She remembered one morning before school, she'd found her mom a sobbing wreck at the kitchen table, after heaving a coffee cup at her dad's head for some ridiculous reason. Ten minutes later, they had been in their room to 'take a nap'.
At seven-thirty in the morning.
Her parents had mellowed a