I can't say I disagree with you on that point. That first night you and I met— I had just learned about her taking the position a few hours before.
[He laughs softly, a hollow sound before he takes another long drink from his glass. Undoubtedly, that explains a fair bit about the state she'd found him in that night, out drinking alone, restless, grateful for the pleasant distraction.
As for the rest— even if she hadn't asked him, he'd intended to tell her. Until now, he had really only spoken about this at length with Tara. His own mother didn't know all the details; largely because it had been more than just painful, but it had been humiliating. Even now, he looks back and sees wasted years and a man who had been so certain of himself that he'd been unable to see what was right in front of him.
He lowers his glass again, his expression somber as the heavy bottom of the glass softly clicks against the bar.]
We were together a long while— well over five years, and had known one another even longer. I couldn't imagine there was anything I wouldn't have done for her. The vindictive woman she is now is, in many ways, entirely foreign to me. I thought we were happy, that we were both precisely where we wanted to be, and I was so sure that we wanted the same things. I asked her to marry me.
[He takes in a sharp breath. Another drink, and he averts his gaze from her again, unable to look Amelia in the eye for this next part.]
That turned out to be a problem when I learned she was already married— had been for years, even before we had met. I found out rather abruptly when she brought her husband to a benefit, after years of keeping him a secret— from me, from everyone. I think... the fact that he had apparently known about me all along made it worse, somehow. More humiliating. He didn't even consider me a threat to him.
[He very, very quickly downs the rest of his drink all in one go.]
And even then, she tried to convince me that I should be happy to continue things as they had been, that nothing had changed, and I was furious for having been lied to and made a fool of. I can't say I cared for being made party to adultery, either.
no subject
[He laughs softly, a hollow sound before he takes another long drink from his glass. Undoubtedly, that explains a fair bit about the state she'd found him in that night, out drinking alone, restless, grateful for the pleasant distraction.
As for the rest— even if she hadn't asked him, he'd intended to tell her. Until now, he had really only spoken about this at length with Tara. His own mother didn't know all the details; largely because it had been more than just painful, but it had been humiliating. Even now, he looks back and sees wasted years and a man who had been so certain of himself that he'd been unable to see what was right in front of him.
He lowers his glass again, his expression somber as the heavy bottom of the glass softly clicks against the bar.]
We were together a long while— well over five years, and had known one another even longer. I couldn't imagine there was anything I wouldn't have done for her. The vindictive woman she is now is, in many ways, entirely foreign to me. I thought we were happy, that we were both precisely where we wanted to be, and I was so sure that we wanted the same things. I asked her to marry me.
[He takes in a sharp breath. Another drink, and he averts his gaze from her again, unable to look Amelia in the eye for this next part.]
That turned out to be a problem when I learned she was already married— had been for years, even before we had met. I found out rather abruptly when she brought her husband to a benefit, after years of keeping him a secret— from me, from everyone. I think... the fact that he had apparently known about me all along made it worse, somehow. More humiliating. He didn't even consider me a threat to him.
[He very, very quickly downs the rest of his drink all in one go.]
And even then, she tried to convince me that I should be happy to continue things as they had been, that nothing had changed, and I was furious for having been lied to and made a fool of. I can't say I cared for being made party to adultery, either.