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Winnie stared at his eyes, his mouth, the faint lines etched on either side of those remarkable lips. She felt the worst kind of sorrow. Wanted so badly to be with him but didn't know how to make it work anymore. "I don't know. Just depends on what I feel like doing. I'm already packed. I'm heading out tonight."
Morgan's intensely blue eyes met hers. "Well then, I better give you this now."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gold key chain with three shiny keys. "Your new place. I bought it for you. I picked up the keys from the Realtor today, after my thirty-minute lunch with Charlotte. I was late getting back to the office because the paperwork took longer than we expected."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WINNIE emptied her bag of groceries in the kitchen of her new apartment, which was part of an elegant brownstone building on a lovely tree-lined street.
She'd been back in the city nearly a week now, after having been gone for a month. She'd spent her first week away with her parents, then a week with her sister Alexis, and then the last two weeks traveling on her own.
She'd told herself she was visiting all the historic places on the southeastern seaboard she'd always wanted to see, but the truth was she was avoiding New York. Avoiding returning. Avoiding, most of all, Morgan.
But she couldn't stay away forever. She lived in New York. Her life was in New York-even if her life wasn't with Morgan Grady.
Winnie put the milk in her refrigerator and the bread on the counter. She'd bought some fresh flowers, so she cut the bottoms of the stems off and then put them in water. Hard to believe, she thought, arranging the dahlias, that they were already in the last week of August. A late Saturday afternoon and summer was nearly over.
Time to start looking for work. She needed a job. Something to do. Something other than pining for Morgan.
Because she did pine for him. She felt like a woman from a Victorian novel, felt as if she'd had a taste of heaven and she'd turned around and run the other way.
Someday she'd get it figured out. Someday she'd meet someone like her, someone kind of goofy and absurd, someone sentimental and deeply emotional and they'd make this perfect life together.
But until then, a job would help fill all her empty hours.
Winnie placed the flowers on her dining table and reached for the newspaper. Sitting cross-legged on her couch, she opened up the paper but hadn't even reached the Classifieds when her doorbell rang.
Winnie peered through the peephole.
Morgan. He was dressed in black tie-black tuxedo, elegant white shirt and white silk bow tie.
She unlocked the door and swung it open. "Hi."
Mercy, he was beautiful. She leaned against the door, unable to tear her gaze away. The tuxedo made him look taller, shoulders even broader, and she could smell his cologne. It was rich with vanilla and spice and perfect with a tuxedo.
"I found your glasses," he said. "I thought you might need them back.'
She couldn't bring herself to take them, was terribly afraid of what she'd feel if she touched him. "I pretty much only wear my contacts now."
"I liked you in your glasses."
"They're ugly."
"They make you look brainy." His lips twisted, creases at his eyes. "Not that you need glasses to look brainy. You're one of the smartest women I've ever met."
Her heart ached. "Thank you." Winnie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her pulse raced. "Where are you going?"
"The Faith Foundation's Charity Ball."
"I thought you hated those things."
His smile turned self-deprecating. "I do, but I'm cosponsor. This is the event each year I have to attend."
"Well, you look incredible," she said, quickly taking the glasses from him, being extra careful so their fingers didn't brush. "If that's any consolation."
His gaze met hers and held. "It's not a consolation if I have to go alone."
Oh, that hurt. She hurt. She didn't want him to go alone. She wanted to go with him. But how would this work? Where would things go? Winnie couldn't bear to think of a future always wondering, worrying, doubting. She needed to be sure of Morgan. Needed to be certain of how he felt.
"Where's the party?"
"The Met museum." He reached out, and very gently touched her cheek. "Come with me tonight."
She didn't say yes, she didn't say no. She just stared at him.
"Just a moment," he said, turning around and heading back to the elevator. He returned a moment later and thrust a box at her. The box was slim and taupe colored and tied with a narrow gold ribbon. "I didn't want you to say you wouldn't come because you had nothing to wear."
"Morgan-" she whispered his name.
"If you're going to say no, I wanted to make sure you were saying no because of me."
She looked away, and her fingers tightened around the slender box. It weighed virtually nothing. That meant whatever was inside weighed even less, than nothing. She'd recognized the name printed on the box. It was a very expensive, very exclusive boutique that carried only designer labels from France and Italy.
"I can't," she said softly. "It wouldn't be right."
Yet even as she said the words, she could imagine the limo downstairs, probably champagne on ice. They'd have a drink in the car on the way there and then they'd pull up at the museum and ...
They'd immediately be surrounded by photographers.
The press would be there. The scrutiny would start. The world would pick at her, criticize her, and she couldn't handle it, couldn't endure it if she was just the latest in Morgan Grady's string of lovers.
She wanted more. She wanted forever.
Winnie tried to hand the dress back. ''I'm not black tie material."
His mouth compressed, deep grooves forming next to his mouth. "You don't even let yourself see the possibilities.'
Her eyes burned and she blinked. "It's not that I don't see the possibilities, but I also see the reality. We want different things, Morgan."
His blue gaze searched her eyes. "Not as different as you might think.'
She couldn't speak, didn't trust herself to say the right words. She was never concise or intelligent when she felt so much. Instead she simply shook her head and pressed the box firmly into Morgan's hands.
But he'd have none of it. Swearing, he tossed the box past her, into the living room where it skidded across the floor. And then he just walked away.
Winnie returned to the couch, curled up in one corner and felt absolutely sick.
She felt sick because she knew she was wrong sending him off without her. She felt sick because she was making choices out of fear. She felt sick bec
ause she knew she was just a big fat coward.
Just like she'd been a coward most of her life.
She hadn't been confident as a child. Her panic attacks were a testament to that. But instead of ever conquering her fear, she'd slowly let it get the best of her.
She gave up on sports early. She never tried out for cheerleading. She wouldn't audition for a spelling bee or the school plays.
In college she didn't date. How could she? Except for class, she never left her dorm room.
Her very first job interview was botched, and so instead of trying again, she gave up the career she'd really wanted.
