Something rasped in her voice, a hint of sentiment that pinged inside him strangely. “You mean it’s not?”
Say no. Please say something that can help me make sense of all this.
She met his gaze unflinchingly, and he couldn’t break eye contact. Didn’t want to. God, why was she so heartbreakingly beautiful in his shirt and with her damp hair?
“No,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I’m not one of those girls who can love ’em and leave ’em.”
“Well, that’s easily fixed.” He laughed, a little awed at how tender it came out. He wouldn’t call tender a particular skill of his. “Don’t leave.”
Now, how hard was that? He should have opened with it.
“Actually, I was thinking about axing the ‘love’ part.”
Keith went cold and then hot. No, that was definitely ice sliding down his spine. That was why he hadn’t bared his soul from the outset. None of this had a handy spreadsheet for reference or a concrete result set.
“Now, that would be a downright shame. Reconsider.”
When he picked up her hand and held it between his, she didn’t pull away this time, and he greedily latched on to the small sign that he hadn’t irrevocably messed up yet.
“What would you have me do, Keith?” she implored him. “I’m trying to stick to the rules, but it turns out I can’t sleep with you and then forget about you the rest of the day.”
She thought about him? That pleased him enormously. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”
Misery tugged her mouth downward, and that hurt in a whole different way.
“I got some news today. Really good news. I wanted to share it with you.”
The long pause stretched.
“But you didn’t,” he prompted and started to get an inkling of what was troubling her. “Is that what this is all about? You’re afraid I’ll feel like you’re pressuring me if you tell me personal things?”
In the course of fending off women he felt nothing for other than a mild sense of affection, he’d also forgotten that relationships were about giving another person something, too. A warm shoulder. Support. Encouragement.
If he could do that with anyone, it would be with this new Cara who no longer wanted to be Mrs. Someone. The aspiring trophy wife of two years ago had completely vanished.
The thought of being there for her beyond the expo wasn’t as scary as he might have supposed. Still no pressure or wedding bells. But something. They could define it as they went along.
“It wasn’t even personal news. It was about my design business.”
This was like pulling teeth without anesthesia, and he’d lost track of whom it was hurting the most.
“Cara, look at me.” When she complied, eyes swimming with unshed tears, it was more like a full-on evisceration than a simple tooth extraction. “I want you to talk to me. I’m the one who asked you to stay. I’m the one who wants—”
“You’re not listening to me!” And then she did yank her hand from his, tears running angrily down her face. “I’m the one feeling pressured. I don’t want to stay. Me. I don’t know how to do this because it’s confusing. Sex and intimacy and emotions are all tied together, and what we’re doing makes me think I want a relationship. I start to believe in the possibilities. And then I remember.”
She remembered that I said no permanent relationship. The blank wasn’t difficult to fill.
Lost in her own thoughts, she stared into the empty wineglass cupped in her palms and the silence convicted him.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the most freely given apology he’d ever uttered. Because he’d pushed her into a type of relationship she couldn’t handle out of pure selfishness. For once, he needed to get his head out of his rear end and pay attention to what this amazing woman wanted from him. Regardless of how uncomfortable it was.
“I know. You already apologized and I’m over it. But it doesn’t make everything go away. There are still consequences.”
He shook his head. “I already apologized?”
“For leaving me. But that’s what it always comes down to. I start to believe and then I remember. I can’t trust you.”
The bomb exploded in his midsection with a sickening squelch. None of this was about the parameters of their current relationship or lack thereof but about the sins of the past. Sins he couldn’t absolve. It was a target he’d missed two years ago and couldn’t reverse time to correct.
Where did that leave them?
Ten
Cara shivered and nearly fell off the love seat in shock when Keith crossed to a wicker chest in the corner to retrieve a blanket. Without a word, he covered her with the navy chenille throw and returned to his seat next to her, but with a pointed foot of couch between them.
Contemplatively, he watched her. “What can I do, Cara?”
His voice washed through her, settling some of the swirl this impossible, ridiculous conversation had churned up. “There’s nothing to do. It doesn’t matter. We were never going to see each other again after the expo. Why does any of this change that?”
“It’s not right to leave things this way.”
Of course he hadn’t argued the point about whether they’d see each other again.
“Because you can’t stand to lose the bed-buddy benefits?” she shot back.
Ha. They hadn’t made it anywhere near the bed. By design. It had become symbolic for her. No bed equaled no relationship.
“Because I hurt you,” he responded quietly.
Sighing, she tucked her feet up under the blanket, but it didn’t provide nearly the barrier she needed against the tension she’d foolishly introduced first by staying, and second, by not keeping her stupid mouth shut. She should have downed a glass of Keith’s expensive wine and kissed him goodbye fifteen minutes ago, as she’d planned.
“Yeah. Well, there’s no way around that. That’s the point. I forgave you for hurting me, but I can’t forget. Then you come around and you’re all strong and gorgeous and telling me you see me as a success and that I’m sexier for it. We make love and I do forget. I hate it.”
“So, here’s a thought. You’re not really over it,” he suggested and threaded his fingers through her hair to stroke her temple, as if they were a couple who touched each other affectionately. “Let’s work on that.”
Together? She glanced at him, too surprised by the offer to even address the affectionate part. “What, like it’s a project?”
“It’s a problem. This is how I deal with problems. Head-on.”
The smirk popped onto her face before she could stop it. “Not always. In my experience, you take off. It’s easier to not deal with it.”
To his credit, he waited without comment for her to fully process what had automatically come out of her mouth. The silence stretched, deafening her, and she had to fill it. “Okay, yeah. I get it. You’re here now and that was a long time ago.”
When had he become someone who stayed? She’d been too busy being the one to leave to notice.
“I’m here now,” he repeated. “It’s a do-over.”
“But we can’t really do it over, Keith. I’ve lost so much in the last two years, things I can’t get back. And right, wrong or otherwise, inside where I can’t erase it, your name is all over it.”
Her voice broke and she fought back the brimming anguish that seemed to bubble up from nowhere, but honestly, it was always there just behind her rib cage, lurking. Waiting for her to stop pushing it away.
God, he was right. She wasn’t really over what had happened. Cara Chandler-Harris Designs had been a form of therapy and it had been a godsend, but running her own business hadn’t fixed anything. Bandaged it more than anything, and ripping off the haphazardly applied strip had left a raw, gaping wound.
Stiffening, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought we talked about this and you agreed we were better off not getting married.”
“Yes!” she snapped. “Because I can’t trust you. Because you left me to deal with everything by myself. I’m thrilled we didn’t get married if that’s the kind of man you are.”
He didn’t flinch and God Almighty she didn’t want to respect him for taking whatever she dished out. But it happened all the same.
“Isn’t that the point of not being over it?” he asked more gently than she would have thought him capable of. “Deep down, you’re still mad because I walked away from our wedding.”
Is that what he thought she wasn’t over? Agape, she stared at him for a moment, but he didn’t seem to catch how very far off base he’d veered.
“Are you that dense? I lost a baby, Keith. My future child. Then you walked away. I was expecting to grieve together. To process, with you holding my hand and telling me everything was going to be okay.”
“Cara... I...” A dark shadow passed through his expression and he clamped his lips into a thin line. Without a word, he slid his palm into hers, squeezing tight. Painfully tight, but she barely registered the pain when it couldn’t compete with the ache in her chest.
He’d reached out. Finally.
Eyes closed, he sat frozen, anguish playing across his features. Speechless. Keith’s silver tongue had deserted him, and it touched her more profoundly than anything else he could have done or said.