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Tears scalded the back of her eyes, hot, burning tears that threatened to spill out and run down her cheeks.
Shaking her head, she used her hair as a shield, grateful she’d had the common sense to release it from its plait. It didn’t work, as he reached forward and gently tucked a few curly strands behind her left ear.
“I know this has been tough, listening to all this heavy stuff. But we had to have this conversation, Cam. It’s the only way we can move forward.”
Her gaze snapped to his, her stomach tumbling into a sickening free-fall as she registered what he meant.
Moving forward.
He’d met someone.
Someone important enough for him to hunt her down, soften her up with his sob story, then demand a divorce?
As if sensing her distress, he cupped her chin and leaned forward, his face scant inches from hers.
“I want to move forward.” His gaze dipped to her lips, before refocussing with an intensity that stole her breath. “With you.”
Her angst dissipated in an instant, dissolving on a wave of such intense longing she could’ve happily flung herself into his arms across the table and never let go. Before her common sense kicked in. What was she thinking, considering taking another chance on Blane?
Sure, his reasons for leaving sounded sincere, and a small part of her agreed they’d probably been too young, too crazy in eloping, but going down that road again after all this time? He’d also been right about the fact they’d both changed and they had grown apart, thanks to him.
“I can’t.”
Hurt flickered in his eyes, the smoky blue flecks shimmering and she reached out to touch his cheek before she could stop herself.
She’d meant her touch to be innocuous, a brief touch on his cheek to prove a point. However, she hadn’t banked on the urgeto linger, the prickle of stubble tempting her to explore, to trace the contours of his cheek with her fingertips ever-so-slowly like she used to.
Nor had she counted on him capturing her hand, gently scraping her fingers across his cheek, as if trying to imprint the feel of him into her palm.
“You sure about that?”
She jerked back, withdrawing her hand with the finesse of a wounded rhino, ignoring the questioning gleam in his steady gaze.
“Because the way I see it, we’re still married, Cam. We still have chemistry and you still care as much as I do, otherwise why agree to meet me here?”
She’d been asking herself the very same question since she’d agreed to this foolhardy catchup.
“I agreed to meet you here because you wanted a chance to explain and I’m a decent enough person to give it to you. But that’s as far as it goes.”
He shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling into that devastating smile he used to his advantage. What hope did a girl have?
“Sorry. I’m not buying it.”
“Fine. You want to know the truth? I said yes because I’ve wasted enough time looking for you and now you’re here it’s a good opportunity to get divorced and move on.”
He should’ve bristled or been angry or defensive or…something. Instead, he sat back, looking way too relaxed for a guy about to go through what most professionals labelled a major life-changing event. Apparently divorce ranked right up there with death of a spouse and moving house for stress. Considering she’d already been through both those cataclysmic events six years ago—losing Blane had been akin to him dying inthe devastation stakes—she knew firsthand how rough it could be.
“You looked for me?” He asked, his tone incredulous.
No acknowledgement of what she’d said about the divorce, just a hint of curiosity as he leaned forward and placed his arms on the table.
He had strong forearms, lean yet muscular, with a light sprinkling of dark hair, forearms she’d trailed her fingers over when she’d explored his body for the first time, forearms that had lifted her up and swung her around after they’d married, forearms that had cradled her close on their honeymoon night spent in a dingy motel on the outskirts of Echuca.
It had been all they could afford but it hadn’t mattered. Not the annoying neon sign that flashed on some crazy cycle, not the sagging mattress, not the grungy brown carpet in their room. All of it had faded into oblivion when they’d fallen into each other’s arms for the first time as man and wife.
It was a lifetime ago, in her past, so why was she all too aware of the underlying buzz of electricity still flowing between them?
“Yeah, I looked for you, for about a year.” She snorted. “You know, to serve youdivorcepapers.”
