by Vi Keeland
Lydia wasn’t kidding that she’d learned a thing or two in her fifty-plus years of marriage. The window of doubt about telling Rachel the truth finally slammed shut. I reached over and squeezed Lydia’s hand. “Umberto’s a very lucky man.”
The look on Umberto’s face when he saw Murphy might have been one of the best things I’d ever witnessed in my life—although I mentally kicked myself in the ass that I hadn’t come with Rachel. She would have loved to see this. I would have loved to watch the smile on her face.
Umberto’s other lady was nowhere in sight today. With Lydia crouched down at his side, Umberto smiled and laughed as he scratched Murphy’s head. My unfaithful four-legged friend lapped up all the new attention. I stood back and took a moment to watch the three of them. Then I gave them some privacy. At least one decision I made was a good one today.
I spent the hour driving home from visiting with Umberto and Lydia thinking about tonight. Then I dropped off Murphy, took a shower, and practiced what I was going to say—how I was going to explain what I’d done without sounding like a total asshole.
I’d even convinced myself I could pull it off, until I arrived at her building and couldn’t think of one way to even begin such a conversation. It was as if I’d just found out who she was all over again. Everything I’d thought about, the words I’d carefully considered, seemed to escape me as I stood outside my car and looked up at her window.
It was an unusually warm fall night with a nice breeze, so her third-floor window was open. Her bedroom light was on, her shade pulled almost all the way down, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but stand in place and stare. My heart almost stopped when her silhouette appeared. She was in profile, looking away from where I was standing. At first she didn’t move, just stared off into space, but then I saw one hand reach for her wrist, and she started to play with her watch.
Yeah, I’m nervous, too, Feisty. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way the last few days.
I needed to get this shit over with for both our sakes. Taking a deep breath, I finally headed toward her building. The elevator was slow to arrive and even slower to crawl to the third floor. By the time I stepped off, I had perspiration beading on my forehead. Walking to her door was excruciatingly difficult.
I knocked and waited with my hands in my pockets, staring down at my shoes. Under my breath, I said a little prayer—the irony of that not escaping me.
Rachel opened the door, and I immediately felt a kick to my gut. She looked more beautiful than ever in a green sundress with thin straps that showed off her beautiful, long neck. Her wild, dark hair was down and pushed to one side, and I had the strongest urge to lean in and devour that neck. Unlike her normal, understated makeup, tonight her face was all done up. A bright red, glossy lipstick coated her plump lips, and her lashes were thick and dark, which matched the dark liner that made her almond-shaped eyes look even larger. I was sad that I might not get to brush my lips against hers one last time.
I raised my gaze to meet hers, and my heart beat out of control. I’ve fallen in love with her. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to tell her. But I didn’t want the first time I said those words to be muddied by the conversation we were about to have. I only hoped I’d get to say them one day.
“Hello, Rachel.”
Rachel
“Hi.”
Caine was staring at me funny—as if he wasn’t really seeing me, even though he looked straight at my face.
“Caine?
He blinked a few times. “Sorry. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I stepped aside for him to enter, noting that he hadn’t leaned in for a kiss. I tried to brush it off, but it elevated my already jittery feeling to full-blown panic.
Caine came inside, and things became even more awkward—worse than a bad blind date. I was standing in a room where this man had recently cooked breakfast for me, yet he felt like a complete stranger.
“How are you feeling?” I attempted to make some conversation.
“Better. Thank you. I’m sorry for the way I rushed out of your sister’s apartment and left her to make sure you got home.”
“It’s fine. I understand. You weren’t feeling well.”
Caine nodded and dug his hands into his pockets. After another minute of awkward silence, he cleared his throat.
“Listen, Rachel, we need to talk.”
“Okay. Why don’t we sit down? Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He followed me into the living room. I sat on one end of the couch, which left plenty of open space for him to join me. But he chose to sit on the adjacent chair.
Caine looked at his feet, then dragged a hand through his hair. Though he could totally pull off the disheveled look, I got the feeling he’d been doing that a lot the last few days, and it had nothing to do with styling. He blew out a loud breath before starting to speak.
“I can’t start a relationship with lies.”
Oh, God. My little lie about Benny had been niggling in the back of my mind ever since I’d talked to Ava about what was going on with Caine. I felt sick. But I refused to let that horrible man take anything else from me.
“I’m sorry about lying. It’s just…it’s not easy for me to talk about.”
Caine attempted to speak, but I cut him off, going into my usual nervous ramble.
“I said I didn’t have a stepfather because I wish I hadn’t had one. I try to pretend he never existed. He wasn’t a nice guy. He was abusive…to me and my sister once my mother died.”
Caine’s jaw flexed. “He abused you?”
I nodded and looked down. “It wasn’t the same for me and my sister. He…” Even after fifteen years, I could barely say the words. “…he sexually abused my sister. But I was too young.”
“So he didn’t touch you?”
I shook my head. “Not the same way he touched my sister.”
A look of relief crossed Caine’s face. “Thank God.”
“But as long as we’re being honest, I told you another small lie. The scar on my back isn’t from falling out of a tree when I was a kid. It’s from my stepfather. The night before the police removed us, he came home earlier than we’d expected. Riley was packing because we were planning on finally going to get help the next morning. Benny ransacked my room and found the bag I’d packed. He lost his mind and started kicking us with his steel-tip boots. That’s what left the scar on my back.”
I’d been too stubborn for a lot of years to allow myself to cry about everything that happened. But the memories from that night were still vivid when I talked about them. I could see my sister sneaking into my room after Benny had passed out to do wound care on me. My tears felt cool, running down my warm face.
“My sister taped it closed, but it probably needed a dozen stitches.”
Caine came to kneel at my feet. I leaned my head into him, burying my face in his shoulder to hide my emotions.
“I’m so sorry, Rach. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Once the faucet was open, I couldn’t stop the water from coming. Caine holding me made me feel safe for the first time in a long time—safe to cry. And so I did. I cried and I cried, allowing myself to let it out. I didn’t know where it was all coming from, but the cry turned into an ugly sob—one that had me gasping for breath. Caine sat and held me quietly, stroking my hair and saying he was sorry over and over. When I finally calmed down, I sat up to find him with tears welling in his own eyes.
“I’m sorry for falling apart like that. I’ve never told anyone about that night, except the social worker who took us the next day. I’ve never even said my sister was sexually abused out loud.” I looked Caine in the eyes. “That’s why I lied to you and said my mother never remarried. It’s easier to pretend she never did and those years never happened.”
Caine looked so sad. His voice was full of hesitation. “You went to a social worker the next day, after he did that to you?�
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“Actually, she came to us. Benny got into a fight at the garage the next day, so the police came to find us with a social worker.”
“A fight?”
“Yeah. He had a lot of rage. I wish it had happened sooner for my sister’s sake. We were both so afraid to tell anyone. But the social worker knew something wasn’t right when she showed up. Benny was put in the hospital, and we were taken to stay with my aunt. Eventually, my sister told the social worker what was going on, and Benny was arrested while he was still in the hospital. A month later, he died of a heart attack while in custody.” I shrugged. “And life just moved on. Our aunt adopted us, and we never looked back.”
“I’m so sorry, Rachel.”
I half laughed-half sniffled. “Stop saying that. It’s not your fault. I just wanted to explain why I lied because I know you were upset about it. And now I’d like to go back to pretending Benny never existed. Can we do that?”
Caine looked like he was going to argue. His mouth opened to speak, then closed, then opened again. But eventually he nodded.
After a trip to the bathroom to wash the streaked makeup from my face, I felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same about Caine. While unloading and a good cry had lightened my mood, it seemed I’d passed that heaviness to him. We decided to turn on the TV and relax by watching a movie, but each time I glanced over at him, he seemed lost in thought.
When the movie ended, I thought things might return to normal in the bedroom. Although when I mentioned being tired and ready to go to bed, Caine surprised me by saying he needed to sleep at his own place because he had an early meeting.
That unsettled feeling I’d had was back as I walked him to the door. “Are we okay, Caine?” I hated to ask, hated to sound needy, but I’d already had two sleepless nights and knew I would be up again if he left without us talking.
Caine cupped my cheeks. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Never forget that, Rachel.” He brushed his lips with mine and said goodnight.
I leaned my head against the closed door after he was gone. While the sentiment was sweet, especially given everything we’d talked about, why did it feel like Caine was saying goodbye?
Caine
I didn’t have the heart to tell her after she’d broken down—at least that’s what I told myself. I was keeping it from her for her own good, not because I was a selfish prick with no balls.
But after a week of being half in and half out, I realized I was doing the same thing to her that I’d done when she was a kid—stringing her along, week by week, and not taking any action because I was unsure of myself.
Only back then I was a confused teenage boy, and now I was supposed to be a man. I sure as hell wasn’t acting like much of one. I’d avoided Rachel almost every night this week, except in class when I had no choice but to face her. She knew something was off.
“What’s going on with you?” my sister asked as she took my plate. She’d had another doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I’d been babysitting. Evelyn must’ve been pretty desperate to use me again, considering I almost killed one of her kids last time.
“Nothing much.”
She went into the kitchen and put my plate in the sink before returning for her interrogation. “Bullshit. I can tell when something’s wrong.”
“How?”
My sister leveled me with a stare. “For starters, you’re still here. Normally when I ask you to babysit, you dart out the door the minute I get back, as if having a family is contagious or something.”
I guess she had a point. I tried to play it off as nothing. “I was hungry, that’s all.” I shrugged.
She scrutinized me. “Where’s the woman you had here with you last time? The girls talked about her for a week. Rachel, wasn’t it?”
“How would I know?”
“Don’t give me that crap. Your face changed as soon as I said her name.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Really?” She leaned in. “Rachel.” Her voice grew louder. “Rachel. Rachel. Rachel.”
“I think you should add a shrink to that list of doctors you’re visiting.” I stood and began to clear the rest of the table to put some space between the bulldog and me.
My nieces had already disappeared with a box of elbow macaroni and Elmer’s glue, and they were unusually quiet as they stuck food to construction paper in the living room. Where were the little motor-mouths when you needed them to interrupt a conversation?
My sister and I cleaned up from dinner, and surprisingly, she was quiet. I should have realized she was busy reloading.
Pushing the dishwasher closed, she turned and leaned against it, cornering me in the kitchen as I put away the last of the plates.
“What did you do?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Either she dumped you, or you did something wrong. I can tell. You’re moping around. And since you generally get fired up when someone screws you over, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you screwed something up.”
Damn. She’s good. I sighed. “I got myself into a mess.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. So how do you get yourself out of this mess?”
“Without hurting her, I can’t.”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“It’s nothing like that. ”
Evelyn contemplated me for a minute. “Listen, little brother, you carry around a lot of baggage for things you think are your fault that aren’t. You take responsibility. Are you sure you actually did something that bad?”
My sister was always biased when it came to me. When I didn’t respond, she shook her head and continued. “You’re a good man. Whatever’s going on, I know you’ll make the right choice. I can’t imagine you ever caring about someone and intentionally hurting them.”
My sister was right about one thing. I never intended to hurt Rachel. Or Liam, for that matter. But I’d made a lot of bad choices over the years, and other people suffered the consequences. I’d missed doing the right thing for Liam—didn’t see that the pressure was too much, that the band and the label contract were more than he could handle until it was too late. With Rachel, I should have told someone what I suspected the day she walked into that confessional. But instead I lied to an innocent girl, pretending to be a priest for months. She had scars left by my mistakes. I’d done enough damage to her.
I hated that her eyes brightened when I asked her to go for a cup of coffee after class the next day.
“So, according to Cosmo, I like you,” she announced.
We’d ordered two coffees and sat at a quiet table in the back of the coffee shop. Rachel was attempting to act like nothing was wrong, but I heard the shake in her voice and noted the way she twisted her watch back and forth.
“More quizzes?”
“Yep. Question nine was iffy,” she teased. “It asked if I’d still be physically attracted to you if you gained sixty pounds, went bald, and suddenly became unemployed. My pen was hovering over a certain answer, but then I remembered you like to blindfold me anyway.” She smiled and fuck, it hurt.
When I didn’t respond, Rachel thought I was offended.
“I’m teasing, you know,” she said.
I nodded and cleared my throat. It felt like my balls were stuck in there as I attempted to get out the words I needed to say.
“Listen, Rachel…I can’t do this anymore.”
Her smile wilted. She knew what I was saying, yet still found a way to cling to hope.
“What? Hang out on campus? No one thinks it’s odd. I see TAs and professors together all the time.”
“I didn’t mean spend time on campus. I meant spend time at all. We can’t see each other anymore.”
“Why? I don’t understand?”
I’d decided after talking to my sister last night that there was no use in telling her anything about the
church, about us fifteen years ago. Why hurt her by dredging up more shit when I didn’t have to?
“You’re my student. What happened between us shouldn’t have ever started.”
Sadness transformed into anger on her face. “That’s bullshit. You don’t care about that. And besides, the semester is halfway over.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked down because it was too hard to lie to her beautiful face. “It should have never happened.”
“Screw you.”
“I’ll stay on as your thesis advisor. This is my fault and shouldn’t affect you in any way.”
“It shouldn’t affect me?”
“Rachel…”
She stood. “You know what, Caine? For a long time I felt unworthy of love, ashamed of things that happened in my life, regretting my choices. It wasn’t until the last few weeks that I started to realize I’m not my past. I don’t ever want to be someone’s regret. So go fuck yourself.”
On instinct, I grabbed her arm as she brushed past me. Tears filled her eyes, and I knew she wanted to leave before I saw them, didn’t want me to see her upset. God, I wanted to rewind and erase everything I’d just said. But instead, I released her arm and let her go. It was the best thing I could do for her, even if it didn’t feel that way in the moment.
I couldn’t turn around and watch her walk out. Squeezing my eyes shut, I listened to the sound of her footsteps become more and more distant until I couldn’t hear her at all anymore.
Rachel was right about one thing—she was my regret. Just not in the way she thought. I’d always regret letting her go.
Rachel
Out of habit, I began to walk to the seat I’d occupied since the beginning of the semester. But then I stopped. Screw this. There was no reason to subject myself to a front-and-center view of the mighty professor. I’d do my job, attend the classes I was required to sit in on, teach the extra-help sessions, grade papers—all of it. But I didn’t have to sit where he’d told me he preferred I sit. Not anymore.