“Kick yourself later, Abe,” he said. “Today, you get on your knees and apologize to her.”
Arriving at the arboretum about an hour later courtesy of LA traffic, he discovered the parking lot comparatively empty thanks to the fact it was only about a half hour from closing time as well as being a weekday. He pulled into a spot next to a little red MINI Cooper, then paid for admission and walked straight to Sarah’s favorite spot in the arboretum: a wooden bench that overlooked Baldwin Lake, with the graceful presence of the Queen Anne Cottage on the other side.
And then there she was, standing on the edge of the lake, looking at the mirror-still water, a faraway expression on her face. Beautiful didn’t describe her, wasn’t good enough a word for her. She was Sarah.
Unique and stunning.
Her African-American, Puerto Rican, and Japanese ancestors had left their mark on her in different ways—that glorious, deep brown skin that glowed under the kiss of the late-afternoon sun, the thickly lashed brown eyes that had a feline edge to them, the sharp cheekbones and masses of curling black hair.
He’d always loved her hair, but Sarah insisted on straightening it more often than not.
Today, however, it ran wild around her head and over her shoulders, the sunlight picking up reddish glints in the glory of it.
His fingers curled into his palms, skin tingling with the urge to touch.
It was then that she saw him. It was as if a steel rebar had replaced her spine, shutters slamming down hard to wipe the expression off her face.
CHAPTER 5
AS HE CLOSED THE DISTANCE between them, she tugged the dark gray of her shawl tighter around her body before turning to face him.
Her legs were exposed by the knee-length sundress of cool blue with white flowers that covered her body, and those legs were as phenomenal as always. Sarah loved to dance, and it showed in the fluid muscles of her body. But she wasn’t all muscle over bone like some dancers became. No, Sarah had serious, dangerous curves along with all that tone. And when she stood straight up as she was doing now, she came to just below his chin.
It made her very tall for a woman.
It made her the perfect height for Abe.
Coming to a halt a couple of feet from her, he looked at her face, specifically the spot where that bastard had punched her. “The bruise is gone.” Fury rumbled in his gut regardless. If he ever saw Vance again, the man would lose that smug face of his, become unrecognizable even to his own fucking mother.
Sarah tugged the shawl even tighter around herself. “What do you want, Abe?” The words were harsh, holding none of the innate gentleness that had first drawn him to his wife… but her body, it trembled.
As if she’d shatter if she didn’t physically hold herself together.
“To apologize properly.” He barely restrained the urge to take her into his arms. He wasn’t used to Sarah looking fragile. Gentle or not, Sarah never looked fragile. Sarah was tough enough to kick his ass and tear him a new one.
It was exactly what she’d done the times she’d found him with drugs.
“For the things I said the night you left me”—God, what the fuck had been wrong with him—“and for the bastard I was during our marriage.”
Sarah stared at him before turning to face the lake once more. “Fine.” The word was flat. “Good-bye.”
Abe flinched. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t want it to be easy. He wanted her to be angry with him, wanted her to be full of fire… wanted to know he hadn’t doused that wild, rare fire with his ugliness. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he began, “but—”
“But what?” Sarah turned on her heel. “This is part of some twelve-step program you have to complete to lay your demons to rest?” She shoved at his chest with her hands, the shawl dropping unnoticed to the soft green grass. “How damn noble of you!”
Her touch rocked him to the core. It always had. “Sarah—”
“I don’t want your apologies! In fact, I don’t want to see your face ever again!” Each word was punctuated by fists pounding against his chest. “Go. Away!”
Abe was a big man. He could take Sarah’s fury. What he couldn’t take was the shimmer of tears he glimpsed the moment before she spun away. “Sarah.” He pulled her into his arms without thinking about it.
“Go away.” A whisper this time, her voice wet and her body no longer of the valkyrie who’d launched into him. “Please go away and let me grieve in peace.”
It hit him then. Today’s date. Eighteen months to the day since Sarah’s baby had been born, a painful fact Abe knew because he’d never been able to stop himself from listening for anything to do with her. The little guy had never taken a breath outside the womb, never known his mother’s smile or her love. Because Sarah would’ve loved her child with a fierce will. It was what she did: love so deeply that she didn’t hold anything back, didn’t protect herself.