She held up a hand. Something had just occurred to her. If it was his reason for turning her away, she didn’t think she could ever forgive him. ‘‘Is it because of Aubrey? Because I had a child with another man?’’

He moved fast so rarely, it took her by surprise when he snatched her hand out of the air and squeezed it hard enough to rub bone against bone. ‘‘I love her, Grace. I’d be proud for her to think of me as her father. You have to know that.’’

‘‘I don’t have to know anything. You say you love me, and you love her, but you won’t have us. You’re hurting me, Ethan.’’

‘‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’’ He released her hand as if it had burned his palm. ‘‘I know I’m hurting you. I knew I would. I had no business letting things come to this.’’

‘‘But you did,’’ she said evenly. ‘‘You had to know I’d feel this way, that I’d expect you would feel the same.’’

‘‘Yeah, I knew. I should have been honest with you. I’ve got no excuse for it.’’ Except I needed you. I needed you, Grace. ‘‘Marriage isn’t something I’m looking for.’’

‘‘Oh, don’t treat me like a fool, Ethan.’’ She sighed now, too battered to be angry. ‘‘People like us don’t have relationships, we don’t have affairs. We get married and raise families. We’re simple and basic, and as amusing as that might be to some, that’s just who we are.’’

He stared down at his hands. She was right, of course. Or would have been. But she didn’t know he wasn’t simple or basic. ‘‘It’s not you, Grace.’’

‘‘No?’’ Hurt and humiliation tangled inside her. She imagined Jack Casey would have said the same thing, if he’d taken the time to say anything before he left her. ‘‘If it’s not me, who is it? I’m the only one here.’’

‘‘It’s me. I can’t raise a family because of what I come from.’’

‘‘What you come from? You come from St. Christopher’s on the southern Eastern Shore. You come from Raymond and Stella Quinn.’’

‘‘No.’’ He lifted his gaze. ‘‘I come from the stinking slums of D.C. and Baltimore and too many other places to count. I come from a whore who sold herself, and me, for a bottle or a fix. You don’t know what I come from. Or what I’ve been.’’

‘‘I know you came from a terrible place, Ethan.’’ She spoke gently now, wanting to soothe the brutal pain in his eyes. ‘‘I know your mother—your biological mother—was a prostitute.’’

‘‘She was a whore,’’ Ethan corrected. ‘‘ ‘Prostitute’ is too clean a word.’’