She must have known what he was going to ask because she seemed to steel herself for his question.
He rested a hand on her leg. “Where?”
“Nowhere anyone could see. He was smart about it.” She absently touched her ribs as she spoke and he figured that had been one of the spots.“I was one of those women that used to believe that victims could and should leave after the first time, but—”
“You thought he wouldn’t do it again.” Touching her kept in him in the present, his mind attempting to drag him back. He’d abandoned the memories and swore to himself that he would never go back. This was one of the reasons he hadn’t been back to his hometown in over a decade. “Do you want to talk about it?”
***
She continued staring at her hands. Something told her she would never be ready to reveal the extent of the damage. But she trusted him. She trusted him more than some man or woman whose job it was to listen.
“Can I lay in your lap?” Her head filled the space that his arm had occupied. “We met in school. It was the cliché boy meets girl story…”
She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest after she finished talking. Checking the time, she realized he hadn’t said anything meaningful in an hour. Sitting up, she found him already looking at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a great listener.”
“That’s one of the things that separates a good businessman from a great businessman.”
“Listening to a girl whine about her break-up.”
“You weren’t whining. You needed to let it go.” He slid a hand across her cheek. “So you can heal.” He leaned in. “You’re beautiful when you’re not sad.”
“I was more angry than sad.”
“You don’t have to be so defensive with me, Mia. I see you.”
Her lips turned cold as his pressed into them.
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Clifford sat up before standing. “I’m sorry.”
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“No, I should’ve stopped you.”
Finding his shirt behind the couch, he moved so fast that he put it on backwards. After turning it around, he stepped into his shoes, his heels landing on the squashed backs. “I’ll call you in the morning.” He stumbled over the rug in his retreat, catching the floor lamp before it hit the floor. “I’ll have someone bring your car.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I was just…goodnight.”
Clifford pressed his back to the door after he closed it, the saliva left on his lips smearing across his fingers after he wiped his mouth. Checking up and down the street assured him that no one had witnessed what just happened. The bulge in his zipper reminded him that what just happened was real.