“How am I doing? Up to your standards?” He gives me a once over, eyes stopping at my breasts, and I’m suddenly conscious of what I’m wearing, of what I look like in my own skin.
Slowly, I nod. “Yes. You’re fine. And Kinley seems great.”
“I’m just fine? I thought I was good. I’m talking to all these guys and their wives, and I haven’t even touched this wine.”
I gulp and then laugh a little. “That’s not like you, I must admit. I haven’t seen you touch any alcohol since that party.”
“I haven’t. I can’t see that look of disappointment on your face again. Not while you’re right here in front of me after all these years.” He leans forward and lifts his hand like he’s going to brush a lock of hair away from my face, but he stops instead and lets his hand drop down by his side.
I brush my own hair back, all the while remembering the touch of his hand against my skin. What would it feel like now?
I come to my senses quickly. “I don’t think that’s appropriate, Mack. If anyone heard you, they might think you’re stepping out on your girlfriend.”
He laughs. “She’s not the real thing. Not like you were, Ren.”
I put my hand up to stop him. “Stop. Please stop. I think I’d better go.”
I turn to leave, but Mack catches my arm with his long, thick fingers. “Let me walk you home if you can’t stand being around me. I know about that clause in your contract—and I know it’s because you don’t want to be around me. But let me assure you, the feeling isn’t mutual, Ren. I wish I could go back in time and—”
“Mack, no. Please, no.” He lets go of my arm, and it’s only then that I realize my skin is burning hot where he touched me. “Don’t talk about—about what happened.”
“Okay, okay. I promise I won’t go talking about any of that stuff in the past. I won’t. But let me walk you back across the property. Could be coyotes out there…” His voice trails off, and I smile.
“There aren't any coyotes in Charlotte,” I retort.
“Those things are everywhere.” He cranes his neck towards the door and cups one hand to his ear. “If you listen close, you can hear ‘em howling. And it’s almost a quarter of a mile back out there. Bats too. I’m sure some of them are rabid.”
I can’t help chuckling. Even though I should hate this man, there’s no way that I can. Not truly. When he’s standing next to me, it’s simultaneously like no time at all has passed… and like there are decades between us. The rift he created still stands, but there’s so much in me that holds on to the man he once was. Is he still that person?
Maybe I need to stay away from him still because I feel this way. Because there’s something inside of me that wants to forgive him.
I chew on my lower lip and look up at him, cocking my head to one side.
Say no.
“Yes, you can walk me back.” I barely hear the words when they escape my lips, but Mack latches onto my yes and takes my arm gently, leading me back to the door. He turns and nods politely to the partygoers and leads me out of the door, onto the front porch, where we can see the stars rising and filling the sky. There’s a slight breeze on this night, floating over the fields that surround Mack’s house. He leads me off of the porch and down the stone walkway that leads out to the guest house. For once, there aren’t justifications or arguments. There’s only him and me. I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but yet I am.
“Renata,” he whispers when we get back to the guest house. “There’s so much I haven’t told you.”
My pulse quickens again. “You said you wouldn’t mention any of that.”
“It’s worth mentioning that it wasn’t my intention to leave you. Even if you don’t want to hear it—and I don’t blame you for not wanting to hear a damn word I have to say.” He takes my hands in his, and that jolt of white-hot electricity sears through me again.
My throat tightens, tears coming to my eyes. I haven’t grieved in such a long time, and I haven’t cried for this man in ages. I don’t want to now, but the tears fall from my eyes anyway. “Then why—” The words won’t come.
Slowly, hauntingly, he moves his hands up my arms to my shoulders and pulls me into his body as the tears continue to fall from my eyes. He lifts my head and looks at me, that gaze hiding years of dark secrets just below the surface. Is it true, what he says? That he didn’t mean to leave me? Was there more? Things I left undiscovered? Instead of asking him, I stand up on my toes and reach my arms around his neck, skin touching skin, lips tantalizingly close to his. There are so many reasons I should turn around and leave him where he stands. Instead, some magnetic force compels me to stand where I am, beneath the stars and the gentle breeze. Mack leans in and kisses me, his lips gentle and warm against mine, strange and yet somehow intimately familiar. The kiss intensifies, growing hungrier and bolder, warmth and light filling my body as his hands find my waist and pull me in closer, fingers roaming over the silken fabric of my dress. I feel the hem of my skirt rising, fingers finding my thighs, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. His lips are far more skilled than they once were, and deep in the back of my mind, I wonder if his hands and body share the same level of muscle memory, of practice. When the kiss finally ends, I realize I’ve been holding my breath, and I gasp as I draw away from him. My hands find his upper arms, fingers exploring his tight, sculpted muscles. My body still feels energized, electric, like it could lift off from this very spot. I haven’t had that feeling since the night before he left, the last night he was mine.