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might have continued being miserable afterward, if I hadn’t become numb to everything.”
    Faith inhaled sharply. A tear slid down her cheek, pissing him off. She had no right to cry over his pain, not when she’d caused it.
    He turned, pushing out of the booth, unable to sit there and bleed over her tears, which he couldn’t bear.
    “Miguel.” She stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. We’ll go together.”
    Catching her by the wrist, he yanked her toward him. “You once told me you’d love me forever. Was that a lie, too?”
    “How can you ask me that, after tonight?” she whispered, tears streaming.
    “Then, yes, we’ll go together.” He released her and stood. He dug into his pocket for his money clip and tossed cash on the table. “Back to New York. Where you should have been the last eleven years.”
    She wiped at her wet cheeks with both hands. “I can’t.”
    He shot her a scathing look. “What’s the excuse now? I’ve climbed the ladders I needed to. Now I’ve got everything I want, except for you.”
    “It’s not you—”
    “It’s me? You’re not seriously going to shovel that.”
    “It’s— I...” She took another deep breath. “I have a son.”
    The ground dropped out from beneath his feet. He swore the room tilted. The overly loud music pounded through his skull. He stumbled away from the booth, nearly toppling a waitress balancing a full-tray of food. Apologizing over his shoulder, he made his way outside, desperate for air in his burning lungs.
     
    * * *
     
    They spoke not a word on the ride back. The only concession Miguel made was to carry the to-go bag she’d taken the time to order before they left the restaurant and to hold the door open for her when they got back to the bungalow.
    He went into the bedroom, his body taut with a tension that told her to give him some time alone. She went to the kitchen and began unpacking the food, her hands shaking from the raw pain she’d seen on his face. She had been half-afraid she wouldn’t find him waiting by the car when she exited the sports pub, but she’d known she would follow him if he called a cab.
    This day of reckoning was long overdue.
    Faith made two plates of steak and shrimp fajitas with all the fixin’s, then set them on the small round dining table. She began to eat, ravenous in a way only a stress-eater could be.
    She was nearly done by the time Miguel reappeared. He entered the living area dressed in striped silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. There was a new bottle of cognac on the table behind the couch and he went to it, opening it and pouring himself a glass. He glanced at her in silent inquiry, but she shook her head.
    Now that he was in front of her—the beautiful boy she’d loved now a formidably gorgeous man—she was struck by how much she stood to lose. There was nothing to be done about it, not with as disparate as their lives were. They’d eventually make each other miserable. Resentment would grow in whichever one of them was forced to give up their lifestyle and livelihood for the other.
    He lifted the tulip-shaped glass of amber liquid to his lips and drank, his eyes closing with a weariness that broke her heart.
    “I didn’t know you still cared,” she said softly, pushing her plate away. “I thought you’d get to New York, meet some gorgeous supermodel, and realize you’d dodged a bullet with me.”
    “Shut up,” he snapped. “I don’t need to be insulted on top of everything else.”
    “I wasn’t—” The look on his face made her recoil back into the chair.
    “You martyred yourself for our love, but I’m so shallow any hot piece of ass would do?”
    “That’s not what I meant.” She inhaled deeply, taking the hit because she deserved it. “I did it as much for me as for you. I did it for both of us, and no matter how pissed off you are—and I’m not saying you don’t have the right to be—I still believe I made the right decision.”
    Miguel tossed back his