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I retrieved two mugs and a box of tea. We’d never had a problem communicating before. Or had we? Clearly when we were in the same room it hardly went well.
Except when he kissed me.
I flushed and fiddled with the knot in my scarf.
Only a tense silence filled the space between us. It grew a life of its own as its tendrils swirled around us. My throat closed. My mind couldn’t form the words I needed to say. He was right in front of me.
What did I want him to know?
If I could form words, what would they be?
His jaw was tight. His gaze was laser focused beyond me. His knuckles were white where he gripped the counter.
Hot. Cold.
At breakfast, he seemed more . . . open. Not quite so angry at me.
And then the rest of the day, we hadn’t spoken. I’d let Penelope and him have the space to develop their relationship without my interference. We’d had lunch and dinner together. Kane acted normally toward our daughter, for which I was grateful.
I’d gotten the silent treatment.
Usually, given a little time, anger settled into something manageable.
Kane’s seemed to be growing.
But he hadn’t left the room or demanded I do so. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
The tea kettle whistled.
I prepared two mugs, and he accepted the one I offered.
“Can we talk?” My stomach bottomed out as I spoke the question.
I shouldn’t have asked.
Before he could say no, I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the room where we had no trouble speaking our minds.
I could handle his sharp words. They were better than his silence.
I hopped up on the dryer.
He remained rooted on the floor. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” I lifted my chin. Two seconds in and the hostility was back in full force. Why couldn’t I control that when it came to him?
He glared. “You don’t get to be angry with me.” He slammed his mug on the counter. Tea sloshed onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to feel it. “You should be on your knees begging me for forgiveness.”
“How am I supposed to ask when you won’t speak to me?” I cried.
“What you did . . .” He snarled as if too angry to form words. Cool, calm, and collected Kane was nowhere to be found. “I can’t sue you to get back what you stole from me,” he shouted. “I missed everything.Everything.”
I recoiled, though I deserved every bit of his wrath.
“I didn’t—”
“Not one excuse, JoJo. I don’t want to hear one excuse.” He paced in a circle. “I’ve had a day with her. Out of her whole life only a day.” He yanked on his hair. “I could’ve . . . everything could’ve been different.” His shoulders slumped.
My eyes stung. He had missed so much. Because of me.
