for a reason—and I have held no illusions it would be a pleasant one to hear. “In my mind, the bubble had just received steel plating,” he explains further. “I was on top of my professional game, now running the European division of Quantumm for Nash. Lily and I started looking for a home. We had a child on the way. Life was damn good.”
“But even steel plates can be blown back.” It is the logical response, as my gaze follows his back over to the destroyed window pane. When he descends into his unnatural stillness once more, I prod, “Cassian. What happened?”
His head angles to one side. The light catches the whisky tint in his hair as it teases at his forehead, though cannot illuminate the new darkness in his eyes. In an instant, he is not here with me anymore. Distant memories claim him…as well as their ruthless stamp of grief. “Not what happened,” he grates. “It’s what didn’t happen.” His eyes slide closed. “The person who should’ve been most thrilled about the baby…wasn’t.”
The obvious answer makes no sense—but is finally the one I blurt. “Lily?”
His silence serves as confirmation. I cut into it with a gasp.
“But…she loved you in return, right? Why would she not be thrilled to—”
His bite of laughter is a shocking interruption. “Why the hell wasn’t Lily thrilled about anything in her life?”
I cease fighting the liquid in my legs. Slump back to the chaise, mind spinning, working to fill in his spotty portrait of the woman who captivated him…who carried his child. But the image keeps popping back like a Picasso, cubes of images in places they do not belong.
“Now I really do not understand.”
“Of course you don’t.”
His reiteration is much different than the first time. It accepts my truth, only this time with sadness instead of fight.
“Why did she not welcome the child?” I ask it after a long pause, sensing we both need a mental walk in the midst of this emotional run. Or perhaps sensing the climb we have ahead.
Cassian drops his head. Drags it back up—with his jaw defined by a full clench. “Because she had to stop drinking.”
His bitter bite on the last word has the same effect on my psyche. “Oh,” I stammer. “I—I see.” In reality, I am not certain I do—perhaps I have overplayed his vehemence?—though the tension through every muscle of his body is unlike any I have seen before, even when he confronted the thugs in Bryant Park who tried assaulting me. In the park, he was furious, clenched…empowered. Right now, he is helpless, tight…
Haunted.
He labors through another dark huff. “Wasn’t long after that, I gave in to an epiphany of my own.” Presses his lips into that murder confession grimace again. “I wasn’t sure I could handle her…or even knew her…without all of it.”
“Without all of…” I feel my features tighten. “Without the drinking?”
He flinches as if I’ve stabbed him—though his eyes, instead of thick with pain, are hollow with loss. He has been to this space before, at least in his soul. But if this is the first time he has ever done it verbally…
I flinch now too.
Suddenly, the locked door at the bottom of the stairs makes total sense. He did not want to do this. Hated even thinking about it. But he is doing it now…for me. With me.
I reach toward him, filled with gratitude.
He whirls from me, shrinking in shame.
Though it tears me apart, I respect his move. Let him hold on to it.
For now.
“I…hadn’t realized.” He grunts it with barely any volume. “How much booze she’d been getting down every day. Sneaking it in…even on days when I was with her all the time. I just thought she had shifting moods…” His hand digs raggedly through his hair. “Dammit. I was such an idiot.”
“No,” I rasp. “No, Cassian. She was probably just that dev—” Devious is definitely not the best word choice right now. “Just that smooth.”
His hand fists against his nape. “When her ‘morning sickness’ developed into a fever and strange visions, I insisted we go to the doctor. He was the one who told me she was going through alcohol DTs. Nash helped me get her into a confidential rehab program, specific for pregnant women…but she checked herself out after two weeks. She said she was better. Focused. That the only thing that mattered to her was the baby.”
“What did you do?”
“The only thing I could.” He releases the fist, though the hard ropes of