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Travis was already moving, though. He had no idea what he was going to sayordo. He couldn’t think, was surprised he could walk steadily after being poleaxed like this, but damned if he’d let her just leave without ...
Begging her to forgive me.
Telling her how sorry I am.
Asking if she’s okay.
Offering to cut out my heart, a lung, anything if it would fix shit.
Travis knew none of that would work. But he had to say...something. In his mind, he kept replaying the one time they’d talked since he’d seen her at the party, looking beautiful, aloof...and pregnant.
She’d called him, the third time in an hour, just a week later, and that was unusual enough that he’d finally answered, although he told himself he was a fool for doing it.
“Yeah, what?” he demanded.
“I ... Travis ... is something wrong? Were you ... what happened? We were supposed to meet ... ” Her low, husky voice trailed off.
It was like another punch to the gut, those words. Yeah, they were supposed to meet. By now, they would have been back in California, married.
But she was pregnant.
“Sorry. I guess I got a little confused and assumed the baby’s daddy would be taking you to Vegas, not me.”
She sucked in a breath. “Travis, wait. That ... look, you don’t understand.”
“Really?” He laughed bitterly. “Look, unless you’re the next Virgin Mary, I don’t think there’s anything to understand. We didn’t fuck. You’re knocked up. It’s not mine. Have a nice life, Iz. Hope the next sucker is smarter and quicker than I was.”
Shit, those words had haunted him over the years and he was dying inside from the poison of them.
She was already halfway across the lobby, striding on long legs wrapped in form-fitting denim tucked into knee-high boots. Those leather boots had a spike heel that could have qualified for a deadly weapon and judging by the way she’d looked at him, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up with one of them in his throat.
But he didn’t fall back.
He caught up with her a few feet from the elevator bay and touched her arm. “Isabel, wait—”
“Don’ttouchme,” she said, whirling around to give him a look of complete, utter scorn.
Her voice was so full of venom, he wouldn’t be surprised if he started showing signs of a toxic reaction, while her gaze was razored and cold, like blades made in the coldest pits of hell.
Travis deserved no less.
Holding his hands up, palms out, he backed up a few feet. “Okay, okay. I ...” Swallowing, he searched her face, taking in the differences—her cheeks weren’t as soft and that made her big green eyes look even bigger, darker, while her mouth was still the same sweet, lush curve, even set in that hard, unsmiling line. Her hair was no longer a smooth, elegant sweep of mink-brown silk she wore down her back or in a smooth twist away from her arresting face. No, it was loosely tumbled brown, streaked with lighter hints of gold, now cut to her shoulders, probably several months past a trim.
She looked the same ... but more beautiful.
She looked the same ... but sadder. Harder.
How much of that was because of him?
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Her lashes flickered.
He held his breath.
“Oh?” One arched brow shot up and she wrinkled her nose as if she’d just discovered the source of some foul stench. “And just what are yousorryfor?”
His face slowly bleeding to a furious red and he had to force himself not to look away. The shame was eating a hole in his gut once more, but his folks hadn’t raised cowards—if you screw up, you have to own that mistake. Look the person you wronged in the face, and say your apologies. Mean them. Even if you know you’ll never be forgiven.
