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She remembered that I said no permanent relationship. The blank wasn’t difficult to fill.
Lost in her own thoughts, she stared into the empty wineglass cupped in her palms and the silence convicted him.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the most freely given apology he’d ever uttered. Because he’d pushed her into a type of relationship she couldn’t handle out of pure selfishness. For once, he needed to get his head out of his rear end and pay attention to what this amazing woman wanted from him. Regardless of how uncomfortable it was.
“I know. You already apologized and I’m over it. But it doesn’t make everything go away. There are still consequences.”
He shook his head. “I already apologized?”
“For leaving me. But that’s what it always comes down to. I start to believe and then I remember. I can’t trust you.”
The bomb exploded in his midsection with a sickening squelch. None of this was about the parameters of their current relationship or lack thereof but about the sins of the past. Sins he couldn’t absolve. It was a target he’d missed two years ago and couldn’t reverse time to correct.
Where did that leave them?
Ten
Cara shivered and nearly fell off the love seat in shock when Keith crossed to a wicker chest in the corner to retrieve a blanket. Without a word, he covered her with the navy chenille throw and returned to his seat next to her, but with a pointed foot of couch between them.
Contemplatively, he watched her. “What can I do, Cara?”
His voice washed through her, settling some of the swirl this impossible, ridiculous conversation had churned up. “There’s nothing to do. It doesn’t matter. We were never going to see each other again after the expo. Why does any of this change that?”
“It’s not right to leave things this way.”
Of course he hadn’t argued the point about whether they’d see each other again.
“Because you can’t stand to lose the bed-buddy benefits?” she shot back.
Ha. They hadn’t made it anywhere near the bed. By design. It had become symbolic for her. No bed equaled no relationship.
“Because I hurt you,” he responded quietly.
Sighing, she tucked her feet up under the blanket, but it didn’t provide nearly the barrier she needed against the tension she’d foolishly introduced first by staying, and second, by not keeping her stupid mouth shut. She should have downed a glass of Keith’s expensive wine and kissed him goodbye fifteen minutes ago, as she’d planned.
“Yeah. Well, there’s no way around that. That’s the point. I forgave you for hurting me, but I can’t forget. Then you come around and you’re all strong and gorgeous and telling me you see me as a success and that I’m sexier for it. We make love and I do forget. I hate it.”
“So, here’s a thought. You’re not really over it,” he suggested and threaded his fingers through her hair to stroke her temple, as if they were a couple who touched each other affectionately. “Let’s work on that.”
Together? She glanced at him, too surprised by the offer to even address the affectionate part. “What, like it’s a project?”
“It’s a problem. This is how I deal with problems. Head-on.”
The smirk popped onto her face before she could stop it. “Not always. In my experience, you take off. It’s easier to not deal with it.”
To his credit, he waited without comment for her to fully process what had automatically come out of her mouth. The silence stretched, deafening her, and she had to fill it. “Okay, yeah. I get it. You’re here now and that was a long time ago.”
When had he become someone who stayed? She’d been too busy being the one to leave to notice.
“I’m here now,” he repeated. “It’s a do-over.”
“But we can’t really do it over, Keith. I’ve lost so much in the last two years, things I can’t get back. And right, wrong or otherwise, inside where I can’t erase it, your name is all over it.”
Her voice broke and she fought back the brimming anguish that seemed to bubble up from nowhere, but honestly, it was always there just behind her rib cage, lurking. Waiting for her to stop pushing it away.
God, he was right. She wasn’t really over what had happened. Cara Chandler-Harris Designs had been a form of therapy and it had been a godsend, but running her own business hadn’t fixed anything. Bandaged it more than anything, and ripping off the haphazardly applied strip had left a raw, gaping wound.
