Page 38 of A Sorrow of Truths
He sits opposite me and waits for me to say something to that. I’m not saying anything about that. I came for the rest of my truths. Thoughts of what I might not have done aren’t relevant now. I did. And I don’t regret it other than needing more answers. It’s a shame that the thought of touching him, of being with him again, consumes me as much as it does given this news I now know. Perhaps we should invite all the other women here, have them ask him for their truths as well.
“Did you seduce them, too?” I ask.
“If I remember rightly,youseducedme, Hannah. Not the other way around. I refused you several times.” I suppose that’s true. I wouldn’t let it lie, wouldn’t accept no either.
And look where that’s got me.
“But did you seduce them?”
“No. It doesn’t happen like that.”
“How does it happen then?”
“That isn’t the truth you’re after here. You’re after the one that keeps me from you. They’re not it in the slightest. They’re nothing but anomalies in a time line.”
Harsh, but what did I expect? Sentiment? Laughter and happiness? That’s only ever been small snippets of him. My mind floats back to the bar that first night, to him smiling and laughing in drunken disorder, as the maids bring in food. I watch them serve what will, I’m sure, be as perfectly elegant and tasteful as this house. It all feels more of a lie than what he’s keeping from me. This isn’t my Gray. This is someone who’s false around me, changed.
What I had of an appetite dissolves the moment they’ve left, the emptiness in my stomach happy to remain unfulfilled. “Which part of you is true?” I ask, as he pours me wine. He smiles and then frowns, as if trying to retract whatever his mind was thinking about. “Don’t do that. I’m not here for more lies.”
A napkin gets tossed in his lap after he’s poured both glasses, irritable fingers then folding it neatly. “Can’t we simply eat before-“
“No. Honesty or I’m leaving.”
Time stalls, as it always does when I look into his eyes. I sip the deep, dark, possibly burgundy wine, part wishing it didn’t stall at all anymore. I wish I could still hear the rest of the world moving around us so that I could dismiss the craving that still holds me in a vice like grip. What truths are there to counter this? Nothing. No amount of forgiveness, no explanation either. And there’s still more to come. More things that, according to him, will hurt. I can’t see what they’ll be. I’m more broken and lost than I was before him.
“For what it’s worth, Hannah, every moment of time I spent with you was as true as my life, without its complications, can be.”
What does that even mean?
I lean back and cross my arms, waiting for a little more information than that. Nothing is offered other than a half smile and more mystery. I’m tired of it, and given where we were earlier, and the things that have already been said, he should be, too.
“You can’t hurt me, Gray. Not anymore. There’s nothing left to hurt me with.”
He lays the chain on the white table cloth between us, stretching it from him to me. “You said that the first time I was inside you.” He’s right. I did. “And I meant nothing to you then other than pills and amusement.”
“What makes you think you mean any more than that now?”
Low eyes look up at me from under a glower. Dead eyes. Killer eyes. I smile and sip again, wondering what it must feel like for wealthy arrogance to have the roles reversed on it. Maybe I should play with his mind. Infuse myself only to drop him when he’s feeling relaxed. I could play to win, make sure all those other women have their pound of flesh.
“Don’t play with me, Hannah. You’ll lose.”
Asshole.
We’re both suddenly smiling again, though, as if the thought of playing is far more interesting than the truths I’m supposed to be getting and he’s supposed to be delivering. “Eat your food.”
“No.”
“And don’t be petulant with me either.”
My fingers pick up the plate absently, depositing the whole damn thing on the floor so I can listen to the smash and watch his reaction to it. Nothing moves on his features other than the slightest shift in his seat, but I can feel that tension bubbling in him, see the steam and anger beginning to flow through everything he is.
A maid comes running in from somewhere, her body blasting through the space to clear up the mess I’ve made.
“Leave it,” snaps out of me.
She looks at me, then Gray, probably waiting for permission, or answers, or fucking acceptance about something she shouldn’t need to be accepting of. Maybe she’s one of his women, too. Mad. Fucked up. Insane because of him and his mind fucking. “Another one of the many?” I snarl, looking at him.
“Why? Are you jealous?” Yes.