could find his family, and if they still own the olive farm, I’d take her there too.” I blushed, realizing suddenly that Matthew didn’t know its significance. “That, um, was where she was conceived.”
To my surprise, he didn’t look irritable the way so many men might when the subject of former partners arose. Most women I knew couldn’t say a word about past lovers to their husbands unless they wanted a fight on their hands. I certainly didn’t like hearing about Matthew’s, even if I could joke about them.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t care anymore, a small voice said.
“Not jealous?” I asked before I could help myself.
His dark brow rose. “It’s hard to be jealous of a dead man, doll.”
“But you don’t like the idea.”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Honestly, doll? Not really.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the guy sounds like he was a fuckin’ asshole.”
My mouth fell open. “What an incredibly inappropriate thing to say. Giuseppe was absolutely not an—an—”
“Asshole?” Matthew finished for me. He shrugged, his irreverence palpable. “He wasn’t good to you. Don’t expect me to like anyone like that.”
I bit my lip. “I beg to differ. I thought he was very good to me, in his own way.”
Matthew removed his sunglasses so he could look at me straight on. “He was married.”
“So am I.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is!” he said fervently. “You are trapped in a marriage with a dipshit sociopath. Your professor was just a faux intellectual with a midlife crisis, but instead of taking care of his family, he decided to prey on a nineteen-year-old girl. It’s different.”
“He loved me,” I said bitterly, though even now, my resolve was cracking.
Matthew stared at me for a long time, breathing heavily.
“Yeah, well, maybe he did. I can’t fault him that, the poor bastard. But, Nina, that doesn’t make what he did right. And honestly? If he did love you?” Matthew shook his head, like he still wasn’t quite convinced. “I’ll tell you this much, it would take more than an ocean and a shitty marriage to keep me from you if I were in his place.”
“No, for you, it just takes a trial.”
Matthew’s eyes were suddenly pools of guilt. “Brutal, baby,” he said softly. “But I suppose it’s fair too.”
We drove for a bit longer in silence until I took the exit toward Wellesley. Matthew’s accusations beat along with my heart.
“Look,” he said a few minutes later. “I get it. First love…that’s tough. It makes us look past all sorts of things in hindsight we should remember. No matter how bad that first love is, we never forget it, do we?”
“Like you and Sherry?”
I was being even more petty now, bringing up another lover who was firmly in the past. But for some reason the thought of the woman who had left Matthew when he was off fighting for his country bothered me more than any floozy he toyed with before we met. Caitlyn, someone I knew for a fact Matthew had never truly cared for, was one thing. It was another completely to bring up the only other woman he had truly loved.
“Don’t like it either, do you?”
I bit my lip. “I hate it.”
“Join the club, sweetheart. The thought of anyone besides me laying a finger on you makes me want to commit murder way too often for my personal comfort.” Matthew pulled at his collar and slouched in his seat, like he wasn’t quite sure he could handle his own thoughts even now. “And I’m the one who has to send the love of my life home to another man every fuckin’ night.”
The vitriol wasn’t aimed at me, but I felt it anyway. It was impossible not to. Our reality hurt us both.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I hate it too.”
His eyes dropped with shame. “Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry. I know you do.” Then he looked hopeful. “But you’re here now, right?”
I pulled onto campus and navigated toward one of the parking lots, but I didn’t answer.
“Now who’s the quiet one, doll?”
Once the car was stopped, he put his hand on my knee before I got out.
“The truth?” he asked quietly.
I looked at his hand. His palm was so broad and warm, like it belonged there, caressing my skin. I’d never wear pants again if he would touch me like this, right there, every day.
“Always,” I said. “Even when it’s hard.”
He offered a lopsided smile. “I am jealous of him. But not as a person, because he’s gone. I’m jealous because it feels wrong, somehow, that you’d