Birthright

That was why she wanted to cry. “Then why did you?”
    “You made it clear it was what you wanted. You said every minute you’d spent with me was a mistake. That the marriage was a bad joke and if I didn’t resign from the project and go, you would.”
    “We were fighting.”
    “You said you wanted a divorce.”
    “Yeah, and you jumped on that quick, fast and in a hurry. You and that six-foot brunette were out of there like a shot, and I got a divorce petition in the mail two weeks later.”
    “I didn’t leave with her.”
    “So it was just a coincidence that she left at the same time.”
    “You never trusted me, Cal. You never believed in me, in us, for that matter.”
    “I asked if you’d slept with her.”
    “You didn’t ask, you accused.”
    “You refused to deny it.”
    “I refused to deny it,” he agreed, “because it was insulting. It still is. If you believed that I’d break a vow to you, that I’d break faith with you over another woman, then the marriage was a bad joke. It had nothing to do with her. Christ, I don’t even remember her name.”
    “Veronica. Veronica Weeks.”
    “Trust you,” he muttered. “It had nothing to do with her,” he repeated. “And everything to do with us.”
    “I wanted you to fight for me.” She pushed up to a sitting position. She had her own wounds. “Just once I wanted you to fight for me instead of with me. I wanted that, Jake, so I’d know. So I’d know what you never once told me.”
    “What? What didn’t I tell you?”
    “That you loved me.”
    She didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at the shock on his face. It was rare, she thought, to see him so unguarded, so baffled, so stunned.
    “That’s bullshit, Callie. Of course I told you.”
    “Not once. You never once said the words. ‘Mmm, babe, I love your body’ doesn’t count, Graystone. ‘Oh that, yeah, me too.’ I’d get that sometimes when I said it to you. But you never said it to me. Obviously you couldn’t. Because one thing you’re not is a liar.”
    “Why the hell did I ask you to marry me if I didn’t love you?”
    “You never asked me to marry you. You said, ‘Hey, Dunbrook, let’s take off to Vegas and get married.’ ”
    “It’s the same thing.”
    “You’re not that dense.” Weary of it, she raked her hands through her hair. “It doesn’t matter.”
    He took her arm at the wrist, lowered her hand. “Why didn’t you say all this before? Why didn’t you just ask me straight out if I loved you?”
    “Because I’m a girl, you big stupid jerk.” She punched his arm, pushed to her feet. “Digging in the dirt, playing with bones, sleeping in a bag doesn’t mean I’m not a girl.”
    The fact that she was saying things he’d figured out for himself in the past months only made it worse. “I know you’re a girl. For Christ’s sake.”
    “Then figure it out. For somebody who’s spent his adult life studying and lecturing and analyzing cultures, the human condition and societal mores, you’re an idiot.”
    “Stop calling me names and give me a goddamn minute to work this out.”
    “Take all the time you want.” She spun away, headed for the door.
    “Don’t.” He didn’t move, didn’t rise and didn’t raise his voice. Surprise, because everything in their history indicated he would do all three, stopped her. “Don’t walk out. Let’s at least finish this part without turning away from each other. You didn’t ask,” he continued quietly, “because in our culture, verbalization of emotions is as important as demonstrations of emotions. Free communication between mates is essential to the development and evolution of the relationship. If you’d had to ask, the answer had no meaning.”
    “Bingo, professor.”
    “Because I didn’t tell you, you thought I slept with other women.”
    “You came with a track record. Jake the Rake.”
    “Damn it, Callie.” There was little he hated more than having that particular term tossed in his face. And she knew it. “We’d both been around.”
    “What was to stop you from going around again?” she countered. “You like women.”
    “I like women,” he agreed, and stood. “I loved you.”
    Her lips trembled. “That’s a hell of a thing to say to me now.”
    “Can’t win, can I? Here’s something else, and maybe I should have told you a long time ago. I was never unfaithful to you. Being accused of it . . . It hurt, Callie. So I got mad, because I’d rather be mad than