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She nodded. “Would four o’clock work for you?”
“Yes. I’ll see you then.”
He turned and walked away. She couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. His limp wasn’t as pronounced today, leading her to believe that, just like everyone else, he had his good days and his bad ones. This must be one of the good ones.
As he climbed into his car, she doubted she’d ever be able to treat him like everyone else. Andrew was special, and even though it hadn’t worked out for them, that didn’t mean she was able to fully disengage her heart.
But that didn’t mean she loved him. Okay, well, she would always love him, but she wasn’t in love with him. There was a difference. Wasn’t there?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He’dfailed.
There was no other way to put it.
Later that afternoon, Andrew sat in the back of the taxi as it zipped along the four-lane road. In this part of the city, he could actually see the skyline, instead of a wall of buildings. With the sun shining, the city was picturesque and inviting. Perhaps this place could grow on him. It wasn’t like there was anything waiting for him in New York, not even a pet.
But soon his thoughts returned to Clara. He’d failed to do what he’d set out to do that day—apologize to her for the pain he’d caused her and make a clean break. He told himself it was because once things were settled between them, he wanted to convince her to return to her home in DC to be near her family. Even though she had her differences with her father, Andrew knew just how much she loved them all. And he couldn’t imagine being isolated on the other side of the country had been easy for her.
He had so many regrets where his own father was concerned, things he should have said but never did. And now, there was no chance for him to make up for all of the time he’d lost with his father, all of the holidays they’d spent apart. He didn’t want Clara to experience the same regrets.
Minutes later, the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the older building containing Clara’s office. Again, he came armed with coffee, but this time he had a carrier holding three cups. Brooke’s face lit up when he presented her with a cup.
“Thank you. Clara’s expecting you. Go ahead in.”
“Thanks.”
He rapped his knuckles on the open door. Clara glanced up from her desk and waved him inside. He extended his hand, presenting her with a caramel macchiato. “I hope this is still your favorite.”
“It is.” A fleeting smile crossed her face. “I thought you were worried I drank too much of this stuff.”
He cleared his throat as he figured out a way to backpedal out of this sticky situation. “Perhaps I spoke without thinking.”
“Oh, I think your brain was working just fine.”
“Okay. I apologize for the harsh words, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”
“Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black? When you return to New York, you’ll work just as long and hard as I do, if not more so.”
He wanted to tell her that was no longer the case, that his eyes had been opened to all of the things he’d been missing in life. But he could tell she wasn’t in the mood to truly hear what he was saying. And that was his fault.
“You’re right.” His admission seemed to cool her ire. “I didn’t bring you coffee with any ulterior motive. I wanted one, and I thought you might enjoy one, too. If you want me to toss it out, I can do that.”
“Um, no, that’s not necessary.” She pulled the coffee close to her chest. “There’s no point in wasting some good brew.”
Eager to steer the conversation to a safer topic, he said, “I’m anxious to hear what you came up with for the party.”
She took a sip of coffee before getting to her feet. “I think I’ve nailed down exactly what you want.”
“Great. What do you have in mind?”
She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“It’ll be easier to show you. Come on.” She continued out the door, leaving him to follow.
He knew she’d insist on driving, and that was why he’d left his rental car back at the hotel. Clara was a strong woman, not afraid of taking charge, and San Francisco was her town.
