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Nodding, her eyes shine, and she bites at the corner of her mouth but says no more. For the past several minutes, she’s rambled nonstop and now, silence.
“You got on a plane?” I sound like I’m having trouble processing or understanding the mechanics of Leighton Price flying to Chicago. I am.
“Yes. I needed to see you.” She steps closer to me.
Awed and a little speechless, I trip over my words. “You do know that I was coming back to Toronto. I was only going to be gone a couple of days. You could’ve waited.”
I’m not sure why I’m making an argument for her not to be here, not to conquer her debilitating fear of flying. I just… I’m stunned.
She blows out a puff of air and shakes her head. “No. I couldn’t. My texts were unread. You weren’t answering my calls. I didn’t know where you were.”
Her frantic tone gives me a taste for how it must have been for her to hear no word from me. What she must have thought.
I awkwardly scratch at the back of my neck. Why didn’t I send her a text before handing over my phone? It might have saved her some of this anguish, though she isn’t wrong. We do need to talk.
“Uh, Drew took our phones. I haven’t seen your texts and didn’t know you called.”
“I know. August told me. That’s how I knew to come here. And about my texts,”—she waves her hand like she’s batting away dust particles—“ignore them.”
“What? Why?”
“I kind of went a little overboard.” Her cheeks burn red. “Some might say I spammed you.” She twists her features into a grimace. “Sorry.”
“Oh, yeah?” Chuckling, I inch closer, unable to keep this distance between us, both literal and metaphorical. “I’lldefinitelybe reading those texts. It sounds like you really wanted to talk to me, huh.”
She drops her head into her hand and groans. “Yes, but please just delete them.”
“Tell me what you wanted to talk to me about.”
Her hands fall to her sides, and she straightens to her full height though her voice is small, a far cry from the confident woman I’ve come to know and admire, and most of all, desire. “I didn’t see you at the premiere. I looked and then I tried calling…”
“I was there.”Hishands on her waist,hisfingers in her hair. Vivid, maddening images flash in my mind’s eye. My jaw clenches and fingers curl into fists. “I saw you on the red carpet with your parents…”
She opens her mouth to speak but doesn’t. Perhaps she senses I’m not done or sees something in the way I’m looking at her.
“I saw you with Felix. His fucking hands all over you. Both of you smiling for the camera.”
“Tom, nothing happened. As soon as we got there, I told my father I wasn’t going along with fake dating Felix anymore. He ambushed me.” She reaches for me, fingers curling around my forearm, and I don’t doubt her. “He planted us in front of the cameras, and Felix…”
Again, she pauses on something in my gaze, and like a deflating balloon, the air rushes out of her body. “Felix does what he does and you’ve every right to hate it. I did too, and I should’ve done something about it. I should’ve walked away, but I felt trapped.”
She releases my arm and tries to pull away. I grab hold of her hip and keep her in place.
Her voice drops to a near whisper. “I didn’t want to cause a scene, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that. That I didn’t put a stop to it. Can you ever forgive me?”
I brush a strand of dark hair from her face. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“No, there is. I really did want you there, and I had every intention of introducing you to my parents. I told them about you.”
“Did you now, and how did that go over?”
Her arms curl around my neck as her chest presses into mine and she leans in for a hug. “They want to meet you.”
“Good.” My arms tighten around her waist. “I want to meet them too.”
Suddenly, she breaks our embrace and steps back to stare up into my eyes. “Are you going back to Africa? Because if you are, I’ll go with you.” Her dark brows knit and before I can say anything, she rushes on, “That is, if you’ll have me.”
Her lips clamp shut, eyes big and fixed on me, and I see the exact moment when she stops breathing, waiting for my response.
