She wanted to yell at him for assuming he knew a thing about the time she'd spent with Anatoly, but the problem was, she knew he had a right. Not to pry, obviously. Florence's personal life away from Freddie was just that: personal and away from him. But she'd hurt him. Even if it hadn't been intentional, even if it hadn't been cheating as he'd accused, he'd been hurt. Cheating or not, it was still his rival she'd run to, and a man who sided with Freddie's least favorite people.
"It was different with him," she defended, but then she paused. No. She wasn't going to go giving Freddie private details. It wasn't any of his business. Oh, sure, she knew why he was prying. He wanted the comparison. He wanted to know if her life had been as perfect as the press had portrayed it or if she'd secretly been miserable all along. And she wasn't going to give him that. Not only because either answer might give him some sort of power over her. It was private. It was between she and Anatoly alone. If he wanted to go spreading it around to the media or tell his wife when he returned, fine. She couldn't prevent that. But there had been good times and bad and she wanted to hold on to those for herself.
Maybe someday. Maybe if they continued on this path and grew close again, maybe she'd be able to let him in to see that layer of her. That year of her life that he hadn't been a part of. But for now? "I'm not going to say it was better than it was with you, or worse, so if that's what you're looking for, don't bother asking," she said defensively. "But it was different. We didn't have the same issues that you and I did." No, because Freddie wasn't married. But then, Anatoly hadn't looked down on her half the time, either. God, maybe one day she'd actually find a nice, normal, healthy relationship.
Or maybe she was just doomed. That definitely occurred to her.
As for the kids, what could she possibly say? On the one hand, yes, she knew how difficult the Soviets made it to get out of the country. Anatoly had literally had to flee, and the only reason his wife had made it to Bangkok at all was because that bastard Molokov had made it so. How difficult would it have been to get two little girls out? She didn't have a clear enough memory of leaving Hungary to know how that had worked, so she had nothing to compare it to. "I know you hate him. I know it's hard for you to see anything good in him. But Freddie..." Hesitantly, Florence reached over, resting her fingertips lightly against his arm. Mostly to keep his attention, but also in an effort to try and connect with him. She just had to hope it wouldn't blow up in her face. "You hate the Communists. Surely you can see how corrupt that government is. Was." Her nose wrinkled for a moment as she tried to grasp the time issues she was dealing with. "If he could barely get out, why do you think he could get two children out, too?"
Or a wife. If he could have, would he have taken her, too? Florence hated thinking about it, but it had kept her up multiple nights, including ones with Anatoly by her side. Definitely not a comfortable thought to have, but it was a side effect of being with a married man.