She had come. She had kept her promise to be there for him, despite the rash ultimatum he'd thrown at her on Friday night. The discovery made his knees go weak.
Diana's dark gaze was steady and clear as she stared at him across the sea of faces. Stay the course, her eyes said. What's right is never wrong.
It reinforced everything his wavering brain needed to hear.
Tracey touched his arm. His heart kicked back into motion as he pulled his gaze away from his wife and he and his director of PR walked to the front of the room. Tracey stepped onto the podium, introduced him and indicated he'd give a short statement followed by a Q&A. The Q&A had been his decision. Tracey had warned him it might get ugly, likely would get ugly, but the only thing on his mind was total and complete transparency.
He read the statement. Watched the frown on Jack Nieman's face grow as he took total responsibility for a tragedy that could have been prevented. The buzzing room went completely silent as he apologized to the families of the victims and vowed to do right by them. "It has not been Grant's finest moment," he finished, "but we will earn your trust again. I promise you that."
Tracey stepped forward and began fielding questions. The first, from a national news reporter in the front row, had him closing his eyes.
"What do you think your father would say if he was here today?"
He opened them. "He would say we need to do better. And we will."
The crucifixion went on for fifty minutes. Settlement numbers were thrown at him. Questions about the company's safety protocols. The viability of Grant was raised.
If he'd thought it was going to be tough, it had been ten times worse. He could only hope for his legacy's sake that it had been enough.
"The one-on-one with the Wall Street Journal," Tracey prompted.
He flicked his gaze to where his wife stood, only the space beside Jack Nieman was empty now. Diana had left.
His heart plummeted. The urge to go after her, to dump the Wall Street Journal in favor of keeping his wife, saving the one thing that meant everything to him, was so fierce it took all he had to keep his feet firmly rooted to the ground and nod at his director of PR he was ready.
Diana had left a door open. He would have to wait a few hours to ensure it never closed again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DIANA WAS AFRAID to watch the news that evening, too terrified to see what that shark of a press corps would do to her husband following the public dismantlement of him that morning. Heart in her throat, she paced the hardwood floors of Beth's tiny living room. When her friend still wasn't home by six, she gave in and turned on the news. The recall was the top story in the broadcast.
She sat down on the sofa as the host introduced a panel of experts assembled to offer their opinion on what the recall would mean for Grant and the industry. The first question put to the panel was what they thought of her husband's performance today. Her hands twisted in her lap, her heartbeat accelerating as the tough-as-nails head of a national industry organization took the question first. The graying official shook his head ruefully. "Undoubtedly one of the gutsiest displays I've seen in my fourteen-year career. The tide could have gone either way on this one. Instead, Coburn Grant pulled the public on his side with a magnificent, rock-solid performance that was a master class in brilliant crisis communications. He may just have saved an American icon."
Gutsy. Her vision blurred, hot tears springing to her eyes. Take that, Jack Nieman.
A knock sounded on the front door. She snatched up a tissue, thinking Beth must have buried her keys in her purse again, and went to open the door. A glance through the peephole made her heart leap in her chest.
She took a deep breath, wiped the tears from her eyes and forced her galloping heart to slow. Then she swung the door open. Her husband stood on the doorstep still dressed in the charcoal-gray suit he'd worn to the press conference. Battle weary and disheveled, he was still the only man who could make her heart race with a single look.
His gaze scored her face. "What's wrong?"
"Other than the fact that you gave me an ultimatum on the job of a lifetime and told me we're over?"
He grimaced and ran a palm over his face, sinking his fingers into the deep lines furrowing his brow. "I was out of my mind Friday night. I spoke rashly."
Rashly. She drew in a jagged breath. "I came today because I love you, Coburn. Because I said I wouldn't be the one to walk away this time. But you have to give, too. That's how this works."
"I know." His brilliant blue eyes glittered as he focused them on her. "I was a Neanderthal. But my head is clear now. Give me a chance to make this right."
Her fingers curled tightly, her nails biting into her palms. Every nerve, every muscle, every tendon in her body craved him so badly, missed him so badly, she ached with it. She had waited for him to come to her all weekend, and when he hadn't it had nearly broken her heart. But she wouldn't, couldn't allow herself to give in to him until he proved he could meet her halfway.
"All right." She stepped back to let him in.
He shook his head. "Not here. Get your coat."
Thinking maybe it was better Beth didn't walk in on them, she retrieved her coat and purse from the front closet and followed Coburn down to the car parked on the street. The Jag purred noiselessly through the night until they reached Chelsea. When they passed the street the penthouse was on, she darted a glance at Coburn. "Aren't we going home?"
"We are." He threw her an impassive look in the dark confines of the car. "To our new home."
Her breath caught in her throat. "The town house is ready?"
"They finished the renovations on Friday."
She sunk her teeth into her lip. She wasn't sure she was emotionally ready to see her new home, not with such a big issue lying unresolved between her and Coburn. On the other hand, it was the place where they had no history together. None of their demons were present. They would choose their future there.
They pulled up in front of the town house. Lights blazed from the windows, casting the elegant Italian marble facade in a warm glow. Diana looked over at Coburn. "Were you here earlier?"
"Frankie was."
He escorted her into their new home, his big hand splayed against her back. An elegant, granite-floored foyer greeted them, the first impression of the character-filled historic home she had fallen instantly in love with. Coburn wrapped his fingers around hers and led her into the living room she'd insisted be done in rich dark woods to give it the warmth it needed. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed around her. Hundreds of candles were the source of the light they'd seen from the street, glowing from every surface in the elegantly wainscoted room. Stunning bouquets of red roses filled the spaces the candles didn't, blanketing the air with a heavenly sweet smell.
Her pulse fluttered, then took off at a gallop. She turned to look at Coburn, but he was dropping her hand, shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie. The tight look on his fatigued, dark-shadowed face threw her completely. Was he nervous?
He came to stand in front of her, reaching for her hands. She stepped back. "I think this conversation needs to be done without you touching me."
His eyes flashed. A rueful expression passed over his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fair enough." His gaze caught and held hers. "It meant everything to have you there today, Diana. I could not have done what I did without you. Every time I wanted to backtrack, to take the easier path, you were there forcing me to follow my heart."
Her chest tightened. "You did it. All I did was remind you why you were doing it. You are so busy bristling at the comparisons everyone is making between you and Harrison, between you and your father, you don't see what I see, Coburn. What the world sees. A man unafraid to do the right thing despite the enormous pressure on him to do the opposite. A man who has not only stopped running, but who has surpassed his legacy."
She shook her head. "When I saw the numbers the lawyers were throwing around this morning, I wanted to be sick. After everything you and Harrison have done to put Grant back on its feet, how it nearly broke both of you, I couldn't stand by and watch it happen again. Because we are a great team. What you said on Friday night about the power we create when we believe in each other? I believe that. I believe we can do anything if we support each other. But I feel as though I'm the only one giving, both with my career and my feelings. It's like the pendulum has swung entirely the other way."
He expelled a long breath and pulled his hand out of his pocket to rake it through his hair. "I was scared when you told me about the fellowship. Afraid everything we'd worked so hard for, the intimacy we'd achieved, would vanish if you took that job. Afraid of losing you... I'm still afraid of that. But you've proved to me these past few weeks that you will put us first, and I should have considered that before I reacted."