He'll pull the door man's log. He'll see a maintenance truck. He'll ask Gerald who dropped me off. And Gerald saw your face. Her jaw tightened.
I've made a mess and I've dragged you into the middle of it. And you have a daughter and a job and I She set the coffee down. I should never have called you last night. It was selfish. I was drowning and I grabbed the nearest hand and I didn't think about whose hand it was.
Hey. Nathan crossed the kitchen, stopped a respectful distance away. Look at me. You didn't drag me anywhere. I didn't walk on my own.
I offered the couch. Nobody made me. I'm a grown man, Victoria. I make my own decisions and I don't regret a single one from last night. You could lose your job.
Then I'll lose my job. You can't be serious. She stared at him. You have a child. Do you understand what a word from Adrien could do?
He knows people. He knows everyone. He could make sure you never work in a building like mine again. He could. Victoria.
Nathan's voice was quiet and absolutely steady. I've been poor before. I've been scared before. I raised a baby by myself on a maintenance salary while her mother was off god knows where. And I figured it out.
And we ate and she got her shots. And there were Christmas presents under the tree even the year I was pulling doubles to cover them. So don't stand in my kitchen and tell me what I can survive. I know exactly what I can survive. He held her eyes.
What I couldn't survive is looking myself in the mirror. If I'd left you crying in that restaurant because I was worried about my job. That man I couldn't live with. " Victoria looked at him for a long moment and there was something almost like grief in her face. The grief of a person realizing too late what they'd been settling for because they were finally standing next to the real thing and could see the difference. "You keep saying things," she said softly.