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“Are you—are you following me around London?”
“No.” His eyes flickered for an instant but then he shook his head. “I was with my own doctor—getting measured for a permanent prosthetic.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to him. Lance had lost his leg, and despite our painful history, I still felt sympathy about what had happened. It was as if my brain just couldn’t turn the “empathetic” part off completely. It was still plugged in, grinding away, churning up emotions and memories from long ago. Lance Oakley just followed me into my elevator and told me how he’s been waiting for me to come out. My appointment had lasted an hour and a half with all the waiting in the lobby, and then more waiting in the examination room. Why would he hang around for an hour and a half? I gave a mental fuck it and asked, “So why did you wait for me, Lance?”
“I told you before, at the hospital, but you didn’t come back.” He looked down at the floor and then back up at me. “I know it’s way too much for me to ask, but, Brynne, I really need to talk to you. The question is, will you talk to me?”
“I heard what you whispered to me in your hospital bed, but I don’t know if I can.” And I truly didn’t know. Part of me was curious as to why he wanted to tell me he was sorry for what he’d done. Honestly, I was completely thrown for a loop by the whole thing. Lance coming to apologize was never on the menu of possibilities in my mind. Never ever. So when he appeared before me, as he was in the elevator, looking very sincere, I was really struggling with seeing him again. I instinctively put my hand over my belly.
The elevator door dinged and opened. I stepped out and he followed me into the lobby, his limped gait very pronounced from his injury, making me feel awkward and completely confused about what to do.
“I understand.” He nodded sadly. “I—I know you’re pregnant…and I don’t want to upset you or anything, but—” He stopped talking and lifted a hand in defeat.
“But what, Lance?” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. He approached me, so I figured he should explain.
“You don’t owe me anything, Brynne. I don’t want to hurt you or disrupt your life, but it really bothers me that you don’t know the truth about me—about what happened that night.”
“Umm…well, I know what happened to me, Lance. I saw it on video.” I looked away, unable to face him when I said the last word.
“I know,” he said softly. “I am so sorry for hurting you, and I’d like the chance to explain myself.” He blew out a deep breath. “I do know a little about what you’ve been through. Your mother told me some of it when I tried to contact you, but your dad wouldn’t let me see you at all, and then you went away to New Mexico. I accepted that you probably couldn’t see me, so I stayed away from you on purpose. I was in Iraq, anyway,” he said bitterly. After a moment of silence he continued, “I—I heard about your dad’s passing. I remember how close you were to him. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
My goddamn tears will be the death of me. I swiped at my eyes and tried to pull it together so I could make it out of this building and not look like I’d been crying if Ethan showed up. Or Len.
In fact, Len was walking right toward me now, with the look on his face that meant my meeting with Lance was at an end.
Lance saw him too.
“I—I’m sorry, I have to go now. Lance, good luck,” I said lamely. I had nothing else to give him. I felt empty and confused. I wanted Ethan.
“All right.” He looked at me stoically, and nodded one time. Then he pressed a card into my hand. “Please think about it,” he whispered, before turning and walking away, his uneven step a tangible sign of just how much Lance Oakley had changed in the last seven years.
I told Len to drop me in Knightsbridge so I could do my shopping. There was no way I could go home at that point. I needed to clear my head and process my feelings. One thing was certain—I didn’t want to share with Ethan about my meeting with Lance. It would only upset him and make him territorial, and that wouldn’t do him, or me, any good. I should call Dr. Roswell though and get an earlier appointment. I needed impartial advice, and Ethan would be anything but impartial. I still didn’t know where he was or why he’d missed my check-up today, I thought glumly, feeling sorry for myself.
I went through the motions of selecting gifts for people, determinedly focusing on one simple task so I complete it. A silk robe for my mother in traitorous yellow seemed appropriate. It was really quite beautiful and she would probably love it. If I had them ship directly from the store, it might even make its way to her in time for Christmas. I didn’t know how I felt about my mom right now, especially after Lance’s confession that he’d spoken to her about me years ago. I wondered how that conversation had gone. Did she know something I didn’t know? The niggling of doubt scratched at me like a persistent itch. His card was in my purse. His number was there. I could call him and ask, and he would probably tell me.
We’d only spoken one time since our blowout conversation. I wondered how disappointed she was that my former boyfriend’s father was now the Vice President, and could realistically be the President one day. Must be a bitter pill for her. If I’d sucked up what Lance did to me all those years ago, I guess she’d hoped we might reconcile in time. I believed it was the reason she resented Ethan so much. She knew her plans were blown and there wouldn’t be any fancy White House parties for her to attend. I’d been snatched away by a Brit who didn’t give a maiden queen’s first fuck—direct from his mouth—if Lance Oakley’s father was emperor of the motherfucking world, let alone a US political figure. Ethan had impregnated me, and married me; even my mother could see that her fantasy was nothing but dust in the wind. Those two were like gasoline and matches ready to combust when they were forced together anyway. So sad for me. She would be my child’s grandmother and couldn’t stand the sight of my husband.
My phone chirped. Finally, I thought as I dug it out of my purse. Unknown number? Baby I’m so sorry missed ur appt. Long story. w/o my mobile atm. This is Sarah Hasting’s mobile I’m using. Where r u now? xoE
Sarah Hasting’s? I knew exactly who she was. And thought it very strange that Ethan was with her when he should have been with me. I remembered how upsetting her presence had been for him at the wedding, thus my concern about her trying to dig her claws into him to soothe her grief. I respected the military loyalty, but it wasn’t fair for Ethan to suffer more because of her loss. If she was guilting him into talking about her husband I would have to set the woman straight. I felt myself bristle as I replied to his text, but remembered that it wasn’t Ethan’s phone that would receive my message, so I kept it neutral. But I made sure to add Sarah’s number int
o my contacts, before I answered him. It’s fine. I’m at Harrod’s xmas shopping. Len is here w/ me. –B
He answered me right away. On my way to find you now. Meet at Sea Grill? E
Well, if you say so, Mr. Blackstone, I thought, as I replied with an abrupt: ok. I tried to temper my irritation but something just felt off to me, and once again, my insecurities rushed to the surface to fill me with doubt.
I paid for my purchases and handed the loot over to Len who would get it all home for me. Then I arranged for gift wrap and delivery of my mother and Frank’s gifts with the concierge, and headed down to the Sea Grill to wait for Ethan.
I sipped my cranberry tea in the restaurant and ruminated about my weird day. Remembering the card Lance had pressed upon me; I pulled it out and studied it. Cell phone and email on the front, along with his name and US Army contact info. I turned it over and saw a handwritten message I hadn’t noticed before. Please let me make it right, Brynne.
I looked up and saw Ethan had arrived and was making his way over to my table, a large bouquet of lavender flowers in his hand. Shoving Lance’s card away quickly, I wondered just how guilty my husband was feeling, deciding he needed to bring flowers as a peace offering.
I should appreciate his gesture, I scolded myself.
Except I didn’t.
“SO what happened to you?” she asked, her eyes giving nothing away as to the nature of her true feelings. The flowers were accepted and sniffed appreciatively, but we were in public and Brynne was reserved. Maybe she really felt like bashing the whole lot over my head. You fucked up. All I could do was hope she’d forgive me for my massive cock-up.
