Marc could almost hear her telling herself to let it go, to preserve the careful peace they'd been sharing, and shook his head. "The truth is all that's left now. Tell me why."
She opened her eyes, and he was only a little surprised by the coldness of her gaze. "Because I need to know what was more important than the way we felt. I need to understand why. What was worth more than the love you left behind and forgot about?"
Marc pulled in a wounded breath, reeling from the blow. "I've never said it was worth it and I never forgot you!" he protested.
Her words fell like chips of frosted glass. "Clearly it was or you would have at least had the decency to come back and tell me where we stood. You weighed the old life against the new one and if you ever looked back, I never knew. Last thing I heard was - I'll find you. And don't give me that 'it was for the best' crap, because it wasn't."
"I wouldn't. I did a lot of things, helped a lot of people, but I've never considered it a fair trade. For the most part, it's been lonely…cold… I've spent the last decade aware that I made a mistake."
She shrugged, not interested in his apologies, and too angry and hurt to be afraid of arguing with him. Their breakup and her life with Kenny was all she could see when she closed her eyes, and the pain in his baby-blues was finally a balm to the old Angela.
"Tell me something I don't know about your life," she repeated tonelessly.
"I don't... Okay. You remember how we wanted matching tattoos? I've got four now. Three can be shown in public."
That caught her off guard, and he saw a flash of the old Angie, his Angie, in her response, "I'm public. Let's see 'em."
Not expecting that, he reluctantly pushed up his camouflage sleeve to reveal a simple, thin green band around his thick arm, its edges artfully spiked. The other sleeve hid a neat Marine emblem, an eagle on top of the earth. Her eyes lingered on his muscles as she wondered against her will, where the politically incorrect one was. Ass?
"And the third?" Seeing the hesitation, she threw a rare grin. "Come on. You said three were politically correct."
Marc stared at her. It had been so long! He was immediately sorry her already swinging mood was about to take a hit. He uncovered slowly, hating the fear on her face when his hands went to the buckle of his dusty jeans. He only slid the waistband over his hip a couple of inches as he rolled toward her.