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Since that day on the mountain, he’d replayed every word he’d said—and hadn’t said—and he winced in shame. He may appear put together but inside he was a mess. But whatever his own issues, it wasn’t fair to Miranda to dump them on her.
He clapped his hands over his face and rubbed slowly. Once again, he wasn’t sleeping. The overall fatigue was beginning to make him delirious. He slept soundly with Miranda at his side and the unbelievable bonus was the phenomenal sex before and after the shut-eye. But even realizing that fact, it wasn’t very useful. He and Miranda had no future together. He owed her an explanation about his behavior but he knew in his heart that he couldn’t slip into any sort of parenting role with Miranda’s son. The memories of being a father would kill him.
Here’s the plan: apologize and start fresh.
Seemed he was doing an awful lot of apologizing lately when it came to Miranda. Was that their lot in life? God, he hoped not. He didn’t want her to think he was unhinged—or worse, realize that he was too fundamentally damaged by crushing grief to be of use to anyone.
But that was the thing, though; he was damaged. And he probably needed Miranda to know that, even as much as it hurt his male pride. Men were supposed to be able to shoulder the heavy weight, no matter what it was. He’d failed his ex-wife and his son. There was no help for it; he had to admit that shame if he was ever going to get past it.
Good luck with that.
Yeah. Thanks.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JEREMIAH REALIZED BELATEDLY that a bottle of wine might not have been the best choice but he thought flowers would’ve been even worse and he hadn’t wanted to show up empty-handed when he groveled.
Miranda opened her front door and gasped when she saw him standing there. She edged the door closed and stood on the stoop, glaring at him warily. “Are you lost?”
“Can we go inside?” he asked, but when she didn’t budge he tried a half grin as he said, “I know I deserve some kind of retribution for my behavior but making me stand in the cold until I freeze seems a little harsh.”
The tension in her jaw lessened incrementally but she didn’t seem inclined to invite him in and it dawned on him...her son was home. Her gaze narrowed when his understanding became clear. “Yes. My son is here and I don’t expose my child to strange men. And you’re the strangest I’ve ever met,” she tacked on.
He winced. “I deserved that. Fine. We’ll talk right here and I’ll make it fast. But first, here, I brought a peace offering.” He handed her the bottle of wine, which she accepted with a frown. “Frankly, I don’t know if there’s an appropriate offering for whatever we have going on. I hope you like merlot.”
She smiled briefly and tucked the bottle under her arm. “Make it quick. I have to help my son with his homework.”
Homework. He remembered helping Tyler with his math because the boy had struggled so much with fractions and Josie hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of the math problems. He’d give anything to be able to sit down at the table and work equations with his son again even though at the time Jeremiah had wanted to tear his hair out. “I was wrong to act the way I did,” he said abruptly, getting straight to the point. “I’m sorry.”
“Is that it?” she asked.
Her disdain threw him. “What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me why you acted the way you did? You went pretty nuts on me. For a second I thought maybe you had a split personality because you went from zero to weirded out in sixty seconds and people don’t do that unless they have some deep psychological damage. Trust me, I know a thing or two about inner demons.”
“Because of your sister...”
She looked at him sharply. “How do you know about my sister?”
“Small town.” He didn’t want to rat Mary out but he wanted Miranda to know that he knew. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your pity or your sad eyes. Don’t you think I get enough of that around here? She’s gone. End of story. I’m trying to live my life but everyone around here doesn’t seem okay with that and keeps throwing it in my face about my sister. Let her rest in peace, for God’s sake.”
“I know a thing or two about guilt,” he shared quietly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
“Are you deaf? No, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m tired of talking about it. I wish everyone else would tire of it and move on to someone else’s tragedy.” Sudden tears glittered in Miranda’s eyes and she wiped at them with a groan. “Is that all? The apology wasn’t necessary and thanks for the wine. Now go away before people have yet another reason to talk about my personal business.”
