I felt the tears running down my face and saw them in Peter’s eyes, too. He had trouble speaking, and swallowed.
“But Mary. How can I leave her like this?”
“How can you stay with her when you’re in love with me?”
“I’ll hate myself if I leave.” When he tried to pull his arm away, I grabbed his shirt with both hands.
“You’ll hate yourself more if you stay.” I backed him into a dry corner of the barn; our shadows got smaller and smaller. “And she’ll hate you, too, because she’ll know. Girls always know. She’ll know you see someone else every time you make love to her.”
“Hattie—”
“And your kid will hate you for making his mother unhappy.” I pushed him until his back hit the wall and he grabbed my wrists to try and force me off. But I just got louder and stronger.
“And the school will hate you because you don’t fit in there. Because you’re better and smarter than them and you know it. And this town will hate you because you’ll never be one of them. You’ll shrivel away into nothing here. You’ll be an old, bitter, useless—”
He lunged at me, stopping my mouth with his own, kissing me brutally, boxing my head in his hands. I gasped at the force and he spun me around and slammed me into the wall. I cried out, but he didn’t stop. Thank you, God.
“Peter.” I chanted his name as he wound my hair in his hands, wedged his knee between mine, and drove me up.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” I found his belt and unfastened the buckle. “Yes, always.”
He moaned my name, like it was being ripped out of him, and then there was no more talking. We fell onto the floor, not even bothering to undress, desperate for each other. It was hard and fast and rough and when it was over he collapsed and pulled me to his side, holding me tight.
We lay quietly for a while, letting our breathing return to normal. Then I pushed myself up to an elbow and smiled at him.
“I should have insulted you a long time ago.”
“I’m amazed you ever found anything positive to say to me.”
“I’m very creative.”
He smiled, but it was like a shadow passing over his face. I laid my palm along his jaw, so gently, and stared down at him.
“Come to New York with me.”
He mirrored my move, reaching up and stroking my face. “I don’t think I can.”
Then he closed his eyes and dropped his hand to cover them. “But, God, I don’t think . . .”—my heart dropped—“I can leave you.”
“Wh-what?”
He sat up suddenly, pulling me with him as everything was confusion, then he took me by both arms and gazed at me, swallowing.
“I love you, Hattie Hoffman.”
“I love you, too.” My chest was pounding now, harder than it had all night. All my cards were on the table. There was nothing left to say, nothing left I could do. It was his decision.
“I don’t have much money,” he said.
“Neither do I.”
“I’ll have even less after paying for child support.”
“That’s fine.”
“I don’t know what I can do for work before I get my New York license.”
“You’ll work in publishing, LitGeek.”
“We’d have to tell your parents before we go.”
That stopped me.
“I’m serious, Hattie. I can’t live a half-life anymore. We do it all the way, or we don’t do it at all.”
It was my turn to swallow. “My father will kill you.”
“Then I’ll die with a clear conscience.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. We’ll tell them together. After I lock the gun cabinet.”
“I’ll tell Mary by myself. When school is over.”
We stared at each other, smiles slowly lighting up our faces. My breath came fast and shallow, the excitement bubbling up.
“You’re coming to New York with me?”
He looked jubilant, and all of a sudden I saw how he must have been as a kid. His face open and hopeful, not weathered by unhappiness.
“I’m coming to New York with you.”
I screamed and launched myself at him, grabbing him close and laughing as we tumbled over each other on the floor. I planted kisses all over his head until he found my wandering mouth and kissed me long and deep. I don’t think anyone had ever been as happy as I was at that moment. It felt like I couldn’t even contain it, it wouldn’t all fit inside of me, it was spilling out my fingers and eyes and chest, pouring light into the darkest corners of this wretched barn.
“I love you, I love you,” I kept saying, until a noise outside made us break apart and turn toward the window, but there wasn’t anything there except the wind, which made me shiver. Peter rubbed a hand over my goose bumps and sighed.
“It’s getting late.”
“No, it’s early.” I smiled, loving that I would get to contradict him for the rest of our lives.
“And you’re cold.” He rubbed his way up to my shoulders. “Why don’t you have a coat?”
“Farm girls are tough.”
“They’d better be, because the hard part is next. Telling everyone. Breaking ties.”
I looped my arms around his neck. “Then I’d better have some more of the kissing part, to get ready.”
After a few more minutes, he broke away again. “We really should go. Are you going to be okay getting back to your car?”