Worth the Trouble(92)
“You probably won’t believe me, but I’m sorry things turned out this way.” Meg squeezed his hand. “Once I got over my surprise, it was nice to see you excited about the future.”
“Nice dream while it lasted.” He forced a grin so his sisters didn’t have to worry about him when they needed to save their energy for their mom.
“At least consider keeping Mom in some kind of facility for a few weeks.” Meg patted his thigh. “You need to focus on finding a new job, and maybe take a little well-deserved time for yourself.”
Another irony. With his mom in the hospital, he’d actually have the time he would’ve needed to work with Cat if he hadn’t destroyed that opportunity.
Meg rubbed his shoulder. “Or maybe you could go back to Cat and make this thing work.”
Hank bent over, elbows on his knees, head bowed. There was no making things work. She’d claimed he’d convinced her to lower her guard, but it seemed like too little, too late.
He felt sorry for her and her siblings, for the way they struggled to be open and trusting. But no matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t pretend he could have a healthy relationship with a woman who wouldn’t let him inside her heart.
Love shouldn’t be so hard.
“I can’t think about that now, Meg. I’m worn out. Let’s get Mom through the next twenty-four hours before we start discussing her future care. But it makes no sense to put Mom in a home as long as I’m able-bodied. I can’t afford a decent one, especially if I’m unemployed. Besides, I don’t want to wake Mom or frighten her with an argument. This,” he gestured around the room at the monitors, “is going to be scary enough.”
His muscles and joints ached from exhaustion. “I need another coffee. Be right back.”
Seeking a few minutes of privacy, he took his coffee to a small, outdoor courtyard. Three gulps later, he set the cup aside and dialed Cat. He had to coordinate getting his furniture back, although in truth, he knew more drove him to call her. His heart sank, although not in surprise, when her voice mail picked up.
“Cat, it’s me. My mom’s doing okay and apparently there aren’t urgent complications with her kidneys or anything. I’m calling to talk about how and where I should get all my stuff. Call me, please.”
After he finished his message, he downed the rest of his coffee and speculated about how Cat had spent her day. If he could go back, the only part of his reaction he’d change would be refraining from the personal attack. He’d no right to stomp on her feelings, to pick at that sore. Whatever wounds she guarded so carefully must be big, because Cat wasn’t a weak woman. And as angry and disappointed as he was by her reaction to his situation, he didn’t want to cause her pain.
He watched a swath of gray clouds pass over the moon. Was Cat looking at the sky, too? She might be nine hundred miles away as the crow flies, but her heart was infinitely further away.
Hank started when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Apparently Cat planned to restrict their communication to texts.
I’m glad your mother is recovering. I dismantled the exhibit. Your pieces are in the U-Haul, which I’ve parked at the hotel. I’ll leave the key for you at the front desk. I doubt there is anything you need to do in terms of dissolving the LLC, but I’ll be in touch if I need a signature.
His fingers hovered over the phone keyboard, mind blank. A thousand thoughts crossed his mind, but he had neither the energy nor time to sort through them then and there. Eventually he typed, “Can we talk,” but then didn’t hit Send.
Another minute passed before he deleted the text. Talk about what? It seemed there was nothing left to say.
Cat’s stiff muscles ached thanks to a hellish, sleepless night. Hiding red-rimmed eyes behind her favorite Versace sunglasses, she lumbered toward the lengthy security line, like a snail in thick mud, caring very little if she made her flight on time.
Caring very little about much at all.
He’s gone.
Those words replayed on a continuous loop, wrapping around her heart and yanking it from her chest, leaving behind an empty cavern as heavy as a black hole.
She stood in line, staring blankly over the throng. Amid the families, couples, and businessmen, her gaze landed on an attractive, single, forty-something woman in the next line. Glossy blond hair in a neat bob, linen slacks paired with a flowing silk-blend top, and wedge sandals. Despite the perfectly pressed pants, manicured fingernails, and flawless makeup, her ringless left hand and empty gaze screamed of loneliness. Experience informed Cat’s opinion, and sent an unwanted shudder down her spine.