Chapter 8—Cracks in the Armor

"Robin's POV"

Mitchell showed up at my apartment unannounced on a Tuesday evening.

I opened the door to find her standing there with Thai takeout and a look that told me I wasn't getting out of this conversation.

She pushed past me without waiting for an invitation. Make yourself at home, I guess.

I haven't seen you in two weeks, she said, setting the food on my coffee table. You've been dodging my calls, taking jobs on the opposite side of the city, and generally acting like someone who's trying very hard to disappear.

I closed the door and leaned against it. I've been busy.

Bullshit. She dropped onto my couch and started unpacking containers of pad thai and spring rolls. You've been hiding. There's a difference.

I'm not hiding.

Then sit down and eat with me.

I hesitated, then joined her on the couch. The smell of the food made my stomach growl. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten a proper meal.

Mitchell handed me a container and chopsticks. So, she said casually, I ran into someone from Golden Anchor Homes today.

My hand froze halfway to my mouth.

Apparently their CEO has been asking about you. She watched my reaction carefully. Said you're welcome to come back anytime. That they'd love to have you work on their upcoming projects.

I set the container down, my appetite gone. I'm not going back there.

Why not? It's good money. Steady work.

Because I can't.

Can't or won't?

Both.

Mitchell was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. Then she said, Does this have anything to do with Christopher Hall?

The sound of his name hit me harder than I expected. I looked away.

Robin, what happened?

Nothing happened.

Don't lie to me. You disappeared for a weekend, came back looking destroyed, and now you're refusing work from one of the best contracts I've ever gotten you. Something definitely happened.

I ran my hands through my hair, frustration building in my chest. Why does it matter?

Because you're my best friend and you're hurting. Mitchell's voice softened. Talk to me.

The words came out before I could stop them. He's married.

Mitchell blinked. What?

Christopher Hall. The CEO who couldn't stop watching me paint. Who invited me to his apartment. Who took me on a date and made me feel like I actually mattered. I laughed bitterly. He's married. Has been the whole time.

Oh, Robin.

And I was too stupid to see it. Too desperate to be wanted that I ignored every red flag.

You're not stupid.

I fell for a married man, Mitch. That's pretty fucking stupid.

She set down her food and shifted to face me fully. Did you know he was married when you got involved with him?

No. Of course not.

Then you're not stupid. You trusted someone who wasn't honest with you. That's on him, not you.

I shook my head. I should have asked more questions. Should have wondered why he was so secretive about his personal life.

Or he should have told you the truth from the beginning. Mitchell reached over and squeezed my hand. What did he say when you confronted him?

The usual. That it's complicated. That the marriage isn't real. That his parents forced him into it.

And you don't believe him?

It doesn't matter if I believe him or not. He still lied to me.

Mitchell was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Did he actually lie, though? Or did he just not tell you something?

That's the same thing.

Is it?

I pulled my hand away. What are you getting at?

I'm just saying, there's a difference between someone actively lying to you and someone not knowing how to tell you something difficult. She tilted her head. Did Christopher ever actually say he wasn't married? Or did you just assume he wasn't?

I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped.

Had he?

I replayed our conversations in my head. The date. The night at his apartment. The morning after.

He'd never talked about his personal life. Never mentioned family or relationships. But he'd never explicitly said he was single either.

I'd just assumed.

That's not the same as not lying, I said, but the conviction in my voice was weaker now.

No, it's not. But it does mean the situation might be more complicated than you think.

Stop defending him.

I'm not defending him. I'm just trying to understand. Mitchell leaned back against the couch. Look, what he did was wrong. Not telling you about his marriage before things got serious was a dick move, no question. But if what he said is true, if his parents really did force him into this marriage, then maybe he's just as trapped as you feel.

He's not trapped. He's a grown man. He made choices.

So did you. And one of those choices was to care about him.

I looked away, my throat tight.

Mitchell softened her voice. I'm not saying you should forgive him or take him back or anything like that. I'm just saying maybe there's more to this story than you're allowing yourself to see.

I don't want to see more.

Why not?

Because it hurts less this way. I swallowed hard. If I let myself believe there's some tragic explanation that makes this okay, then I have to deal with the fact that I walked away from something real. And I can't do that, Mitch. I can't sit here wondering if I made a mistake.

So you'd rather be angry?

Yes. Anger is easier.

Is it though? She gestured at my apartment, at the pile of dirty laundry in the corner and the stack of unpaid bills on the counter. Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like that anger is eating you alive.

I didn't have an answer for that.

We sat in silence for a while, the food growing cold between us.

Finally, Mitchell said, For what it's worth, I think you should hear him out.

No.

Robin—

I said no.

She sighed. Fine. But at least think about going back to Golden Anchor Homes. The work is good, and you need the money. You don't have to see Christopher if you don't want to. The building is huge. You could avoid him completely.

I'll think about it.

That's all I'm asking.

She stayed for another hour, forcing me to eat and distracting me with gossip about her latest client. By the time she left, I felt marginally more human.

But her words stuck with me long after she was gone.

Did he actually lie, though? Or did he just not tell you something?

I hated that the question made sense. Hated that it planted a seed of doubt in the certainty I'd been clinging to.

I'd convinced myself that Christopher was just like Adam. Another man who'd used me and discarded me when it was convenient.

But what if he wasn't?

What if the marriage really was something forced on him? What if he'd wanted to tell me but didn't know how?

I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts.

It didn't matter. Even if everything he said was true, he'd still kept it from me. Still let me fall for him knowing I deserved the truth.

That was enough.

Wasn't it?

I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, Mitchell's voice echoing in my head.

Maybe there's more to this story than you're allowing yourself to see.

For the first time since I'd walked away from Christopher at that coffee shop, I wondered if she was right.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

Because if there was more to the story, if Christopher really had been trapped in an impossible situation, then I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.

And I had no idea how to fix it.