Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock, clearly stunned by his admission, though he did notice that her defensive posture eased. He didn't want or expect a reciprocating response or even her acknowledgement of any regrets she might have had after all this time. That's not why he'd apologized. He just wanted to make amends, and he needed Ella to know how sorry he was. They were both adults now, and holding on to any kind of resentment was petty and ridiculous.
When she didn't respond, he continued. "My reasons for buying the building have nothing to do with you or your family. My reasons are personal. I've been waiting for years for that property to go on sale so I could purchase it."
"So have I," she said quietly, though her brows furrowed just a fraction, her expression perplexed. "Why do you want it?"
"It's for my mother."
"Your mother?" Her tone was laced with confusion. "What does Patricia want with the building?"
"It's what I want for her," he corrected-and had since he was a young boy. From a very young age, he remembered many times when he and his mother had walked by the Piedmont building with him holding her hand, and how she'd wistfully tell him that she'd love to own that storefront. She imagined turning it into a beautiful event center that also did catering, along with an attached bakery so she could do the one thing she loved the most.
Instead, she'd spent the ensuing years baking at home and taking her goods to the Family Diner, where she worked as a waitress, and the owners of the restaurant purchased her cakes, pies, and desserts to sell to their customers. It had been her way to make extra money to make ends meet, since Kyle's father had spent most of his paycheck on alcohol. But baking was also her joy and passion, and her dream was the one thing he could give her.
"I'll be turning the place into an event center for different occasions, like holiday and retirement parties, award banquets, weddings, and those sorts of things." And his mother would have her bakery, as well.
She shook her head, causing her silky hair to shift across her shoulders. "That's what the community center and church hall are for."
He arched a pointed brow. "Sure, if you like the smell of mothballs and damp, musty rooms. Both places and all the facilities for catering are old, run-down, and extremely outdated."
She didn't argue with that, but she did try a different approach. "I can't imagine that there will be enough events within a month's time to make buying and renovating the building worthwhile."
"Maybe, maybe not." He shrugged. "But it's not about the money, Ella. It's about seeing my mother happy and not strapped to a nine-to-five waitressing job for the rest of her life." Though working at the Family Diner was now his mother's choice, considering the amount of money he'd deposited into her personal savings account, which she refused to touch. Stubborn woman. "It's what she deserves after sacrificing so much to take care of everyone else for most of her life."
Ella absently adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and nodded, silently agreeing. "I always loved your mom. She was always so sweet and kind to me and treated me like a daughter."
"She loved you, too," he said, knowing it was the truth. Patricia Coleman had doted on Ella as if she were one of her own.
Ella glanced away and cleared her throat. "Well, that's that, then. I guess I should go."
Kyle didn't want her to leave and said the first thing that came to mind that would possibly persuade her to stay, just a bit longer. "Will you go to dinner with me?"
She tipped her head as her gaze met his again, a tiny, teasing smile curving her lips. "Will it make you reconsider my offer?" she asked hopefully.
He smiled back, enjoying that small lighthearted token she'd just offered. "No, but I can guarantee you'll eat the best pizza you've ever had and you'll go home with a full, satisfied belly."
She rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to be the enemy, Kyle."
Her tone was still playful, but he hated that she thought of him as an adversary. "I never wanted to be the enemy, Ella," he said, aching to touch her again. Instead, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Come on," he cajoled softly. "It's rush hour out there. Would you rather spend an extra hour fighting traffic out of the city on a Friday night or eat dinner before the drive home? The pizza place is just a block over and within walking distance."
She hesitated, pulling on her bottom lip with her teeth, clearly torn between what she should do and what she wanted to do. He'd already felt a tangible shift between them, the anger and animosity she'd carried on her shoulders when she'd walked into his office no longer an issue. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that there wasn't still an underlying level of hurt lingering on her end, but for the most part, his apology had gone a long way in smoothing things over, and hopefully had convinced her that the he wasn't the asshole she probably thought he was.