“Maybe not, but I handled it in a crass, insensitive way. And it wasn’t that I didn’t love you enough. More that I didn’t trust that love.” He rubbed his fingers across his forehead and pulled a face. “I still can’t think about what happened without wanting to crawl under a stone.”

“At the time I would happily have pushed you under the stone myself, but time changes perspective.” And it calmed inflamed emotions. “There probably wasn’t a good way. Although seeing you kissing Whitney an hour after breaking up with me was a low point.”

“Yes. For me, too. And for her—” He glanced at her. “She wasn’t amused.”

“No?”

“No. Because at first she thought I was cheating on you, and when I told her I’d just ended it she thought I was using her to send you a message. She was wrong about that—” he stared at the horizon “—it wasn’t something I thought through. I was conflicted, miserable that I’d broken up with you, unsure I’d done the right thing, and I was trying to live this new life I’d chosen for myself. Trying it on for size to see how it felt.”

“And how did it feel?”

“Empty. Strange.” He paused. “If it helps, it was a year until I kissed another woman after Whitney.”

That made her smile. “Nate, you were at college. Do you seriously expect me to believe you had no sex life?”

“For that first year? No. I threw myself into the work and the sport.”

“And then?”

He smiled. “It’s your turn. Tell me about you.”

What was there to tell?

She’d only ever been with two men. One of them was dead, and the other was sitting close to her, his knee brushing up against hers.

“You know what happened to me. I met Cliff that same night.”

“I blamed myself for that, too. You went with him because I’d broken your heart.”

“Partly, but not entirely. There were reasons I went with him that night, and you were only one of them.” It was her turn to tell the truth. “It wasn’t a rebound affair, at least not at first. He was kind. He gave me a way out. I took it.”

“There were other reasons?”

“Yes. I had—” what should she call it? “—an encounter with Denise after I saw you.”

“You mean a fight?”

“No, not really. That requires two people, and she was the one who did the talking.” She’d tried to put that episode out of her mind. “After I saw you with Whitney, I was upset. I was a mess. I had no one to turn to. Normally when something was wrong I turned to you, but in this case—”

“I was the problem.”