“It’s part of it.”
“Part of it.”
“Yes.”
“Cat, what the hell does that mean?”
“It means this is more complicated than I can explain on this line.”
“That sounds like something from work.”
“It is.”
“And the someone?”
My throat tightened. “Also complicated.”
“Of course he is.”
“Nate.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m—” He stopped. Breathed. Tried again. “I’m sorry. That was cheap.”
“You’re allowed cheap.”
“I don’t want to be cheap.”
I wanted cheap. A cruel shot would’ve given me something easier to hold.
He was quiet for a moment. Then: “Do you love him?”
I thought of Dominic standing outside my door. Coffee at the right temperature. A dragon’s eye against glass. His mouth stopping when I told him to stop. His refusal to lie and his talent for saying the exact wrong true thing at the worst possible moment.
I thought of Rhain in an olive coat, telling me his mother’s name as if he were placing a knife on the table handle-first.
“I don’t know what to call it yet,” I said.
“That’s not no.” I heard a shaky inhale through the receiver.
The sucker punch landing all the way.
“Okay,” he said.
It wasn’t okay. We both knew that.
“I didn’t plan this,” I said, because apparently I had chosen the least useful sentence first.
“I believe you.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I believe that too.” His voice stayed gentle.
“But I did.”
The line held for one breath.
“Yeah,” he said. “You did.”