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“I’ve . . . gone through some things. I’ve changed, Mel. And I came to explain, to tell you everything. If you’ll only hear me out.”
Mel worried her lip with her teeth. Part of her wanted to say no, to refuse to speak with him. He didn’t deserve a listening ear. He didn’t deserve a second chance—if that was really even what he wanted. But then, hadn’t she secretly hoped for this? Wished for it? Maybe she’d moved on over the last four years, but she couldn’t deny that part of her that prayed for an explanation that cleared away the pain of the past, enabling a chance for a future. Because when it came to Craig, she had always been weak, and as she stared at him and found her resolve soften, she realized that even time and a broken heart hadn’t changed that.
She didn’t trust herself to speak. Thankfully, the lump in the back of her throat made it impossible.
He flashed her the crooked smile she knew so well, and it wrenched on her heart. “My little Mel Bell, you look just as beautiful as I remembered.”
Her hackles rose at the use of his old nickname for her. She raised a hand up as he inched even closer, looking as though he might embrace her when what she really needed was space. “Craig, why don’t you get to the point. Why are you really here? You waltz in here after four years, using my nickname, like nothing happened . . .” She pressed her fingers into her temples. “You didn’t just go on a road trip. The last time I saw you was the afternoon we brou
ght the kids home. That night as I fed them, you left, vanished into thin air. Or do you not remember that part?”
Craig’s smile faded. “I remember. I’ve thought about that night just about every day since. I was wrong, and it took almost dying for me to see just how much, to realize what I left, what I lost.”
“What are you talking about?” Mel scrunched up her face. Almost dying? It was like he reached into her innermost dreams and yanked them out.
“Mel . . .” He reached out and grabbed her hands, but this time she didn’t pull away, too shaken to move. His grip was firm, his skin still cool from the evening air outside as he said, “I’m here to win you back. To get my family back. And I’ll stop at nothing until I do.”
MEL CLOSED THE DOOR behind her and leaned against it, squeezing her eyes closed. Craig’s expression as she agreed to lunch tomorrow flashed in her head—the way his eyes shined with gratitude, the soft curve of his lips, and the dimple she could never resist. To say she was apprehensive about giving him a chance to explain everything was an understatement, especially when he still had the ability to make her heart pound, even while a part of her hated him. But what other choice did she have? To reject him meant denying her kids the opportunity to have their father in their lives. And even if that chance was slight, shouldn’t she take it?
The sound of someone clearing their throat made Mel jump.
She opened her eyes and pushed off the door, taking in Marti and Blake’s identical looks of concern.
Marti crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes glinting, while Blake shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor, his brow creasing with worry. “What did he want?” Marti asked.
Mel exhaled and ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know. A chance to explain?” she said, but she did know. Craig told her he wanted a second chance, not just with the kids, but with her.
As if reading her thoughts, Blake lifted his gaze to hers.
Mel swallowed and averted her eyes, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. She did nothing worthy of feeling guilty, yet . . .
“I promised to hear him out tomorrow at lunch. He said something about being in the hospital?” Mel winced and shook her head. “I don’t know. I was so shocked at seeing him, his words barely sunk in.”
Marti went to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, meeting her eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” said, hoping to convince herself, when really all she wanted to do was shut herself inside the bathroom and fall apart.
She scrubbed her hands over her eyes, then said, “Anyway, you should go. It’s late, and you have a flight to catch tomorrow.” She forced a smile, to which Marti frowned.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Marti hesitated, then nodded and headed for the door. “The kids were great, by the way. A little spirited”—she laughed—“but great.”
“Thanks again,” Mel said and waved goodbye as she shut the door behind her.
Inhaling, she spun around and braced herself to face Blake, who had closed the distance in two long strides.
Gripping the sides of her arms, he stared into her eyes as if checking to make sure Craig hadn’t physically hurt her. He found nothing, and why would he? Her wounds were all buried.
When he noticed nothing amiss, he loosened his grip, and his eyes softened. “How are you really?”
Mel exhaled and shuddered. “Stunned? Confused? Scared? Mad?” She brought a hand to her forehead, which started to pound. “I don’t know how to feel because I feel so many things at once.”
Blake’s Adams apple bobbed as he nodded his head like he understood. “So, lunch tomorrow. . .”
Mel nodded and bit her lip.
