Marina couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face as she stood staring at Alex, her script in her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “I thought I could do this. I wanted to, for Mollie and Danny… And you…” Hastily, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “But I was wrong. I can’t.”
Alex felt as though someone had sucker punched him. He and Marina had made so much progress since he had returned to New York, especially since Ben’s diagnosis, but the way she was looking at him now told him he was back to square one.
“I am sorry. I thought I was getting past it. I see you with Mollie and I am grateful, but then I get so pissed. You missed out on fifteen years of her life – her first words, steps, her first dance recital and karate class. And she missed out on you. We had no control over losing Danny, but you – you chose to be gone from our lives with no explaination and I can’t forget that.”
He dragged his hands through his dark hair.
“Your script, the music, everything is brilliant. But, I can’t. I can’t stand on this stage eight shows a week and live through losing Danny over and over again.”
Alex let out a long tense breath.
“Or losing you,” she murmured.
His dark brown eyes widened. “What?”
“Don’t make me repeat it,” she implored him.
“God damnit!” he swore, pacing the length of the rehearsal hall. “This is ridiculous! Do you want me to say it? Why I left after Danny’s funeral?”
“Yes…” She murmured.