Damien,” she says in a thin whisper as hot tears flood her eyes. She waits for him to look her way, and when he does, her face crumples. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He frowns. “For what?” “I killed our baby.” Tears fall.
Arguing’s one thing. You can always kiss and make up. Own up to mistakes and forgive. But once you stop loving the person you’ve pledged your life to? How do you come back from that? I don’t think you can.
It's what I do, El. I protect what's mine." "Then why are you leaving me?" He swings the garment bag over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you. I'm letting you go.
The way she sees it, Nathan doesn't need Stephanie's forgiveness. He needs to forgive himself. But self-forgiveness can't be forced. She knows that firsthand.
What kind of marriage do they have if they can't talk? Reality check. The kind where she cheated on him. Self-loathing is a rusty weight in her stomach, making her queasy.
She has always prided herself on having a sharp memory. Disconcerting doesn’t begin to describe what she’s experiencing inside her mind. To know the memories are there, just elusive, unattainable, floating downstream like a discarded flip-flop. It’s horribly unsettling.
