Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(170)
When I did, suddenly (and worryingly), he smiled
And I so wished he hadn’t done that because I could tell myself I didn’t feel a lot of things but I couldn’t tell myself I didn’t feel that smile.
Crap.
“You listened to Franka’s drivel, I won’t listen to yours,” he declared.
“Apollo—”
I stopped speaking this time not because he interrupted me but because he bent close even as his hand slid under my ear, his fingers curling back into my hair, and he yanked me closer.
“I have had maid and whore, paid for the best of the latter, and not one of them have I even remotely felt anything for. Certainly I haven’t fallen in love with them.”
Oh my God.
Did he say what I thought he just said?
All of a sudden, I wasn’t breathing.
“And poppy,” he kept going before I could cope with the bomb he’d just dropped, “can you honestly stand there and tell me the world isn’t richer for you being in it when you just sat down to play at drinking tea with my daughter? I would doubt, if she understood the concept, that she would agree you do not make this world richer.”
My heart clenched but I forced myself to breathe so I wouldn’t pass out.
“As you know,” he kept at me, “Christophe is reacting badly to the reminder that he lost his mother. He is far from unintelligent but too young to recognize what he’s feeling is the resurgence of grief.”
His hold on me tightened before he continued.
“And yes, poppy, this was caused by you but that doesn’t negate the fact that it has nothing to do with you and furthermore is not your fault.”
I opened my mouth to say something but Apollo didn’t give me the opportunity.
“It’s the fault of fate and it’s my fault. He lashed out and I deserved it. I wasn’t seeing to him and his making that clear caused me great pain. I deserved that too. But not for one second do I believe that my son won’t come to terms with the situation and see the richness you bring to my life, my daughter’s life, any life you touch, including his, and in the end he will cherish it. I simply have to remember to take heed to the fact that he lost his mother and honor her memory, keep her alive for him in ways that don’t involve you. This, I will do. And he will respond to it. I’m sure of it.”
“You can’t know that,” I said quietly.
“I most assuredly can,” he returned firmly.
And he didn’t stop there.
“We’re both agreed that the way I behaved after finding Christophe, and then finding you again in danger, was inexcusable. But Poppy,”—he leaned even closer—“you followed the wrong Cora into the forest. You put yourself in danger. Even if it was the right Cora, it would have been the wrong thing to do. Although I understand you were worried about Chris, it was reckless.”
“I already admitted that,” I pointed out.
“You did. And I let all that was happening get the better of me. I spoke careless words that harmed you. I forgot, with my son wishing so badly to be a man and thus acting with a maturity that is beyond his years, that he’s just a boy. I also forgot, with the strength of will and heartiness of character you consistently display, that you are broken and I must handle you with care.”
Strength of will?
Heartiness of character?
He thought that of me?
And even with that, he also thought I was broken?
“I’m not broken,” I whispered.
His voice went soft. “Dove, you’re shattered. I know this because you think you’re my whore. I know it because you think you don’t have anything to offer when just your kindness moved two women who have not known you for long to arm themselves and venture into a frozen forest on the chance that you might need aid.”
This, I had to admit, was true.
I just hadn’t thought about it like that.
Apollo still wasn’t done.
And he returned to an earlier theme I hadn’t processed the first time he broached it, it pretty much rocked my world then, so I sure wasn’t prepared to hear it a second time.
“It is my responsibility as the man who loves you and wants you to be his wife to mend what’s broken in you. With Chris, I’ll not forget again that I must care for my son. With you, I’ll not forget again that I must treat you with care.”
I stared into his eyes.
He stared into mine.
I waited for the room to melt. For the earth to shake. For someone wearing a trendy t-shirt and jeans to run into the room, point at me and shout that I’d been punked.
None of this happened.
So I asked, “You love me?”
“Yes, Maddie, I do,” he replied instantly and my stomach dropped.
But he still wasn’t done.
“This being precisely why two days have passed with me needing to worry about the not insignificant fact we’re at war but the only thing on my mind was the look on my son’s face when he showed me his pain and the look on yours when you gave me the same. Thus, for the first time in so long I don’t think there was a time before, I had no idea what to do. I had to see to my son, who, I’m sorry, my dove, needed time away from you. But even so, I did not need the same. And I felt acutely the longer I left you with the words I spoke to you, the harder it would be for me to mend what I myself had broken. And still I was unable to act, fearing just this type of response. I only did anything because I’d been told you were in this house attending Élan and I knew I could not have you under my roof and allow you to leave without at least you knowing the depth of my regret and the sincerity of my apology.”