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His deep voice rumbled through me as a flutter of nerves tingled in my chest.
“The night.” My voice was shaky, but I’d never asked anyone to do that. “The week. The month. As long as you want.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. So long that I felt like a fool for letting my emotions overwhelm my good sense. Kane wasn’t ready for that. He might never be. Why did I think he’d want to barely be out of a toxic marriage and jump into another relationship?
I fidgeted with the scarf in my hair. When I was around him, logic went out the window. I spoke and acted without thought, no matter that I was at an age when I should be well past that kind of behavior.
“You hate New York. Are you willing to stick around?”
My eyes jerked to his. There was a vulnerability in his tone, a guardedness in his expression.
“I hate what New York reminds me of. So much loss. So much hurt.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach. If Kane decided he couldn’t forgive me, I wasn’t sure I could stay, though I’d try for Penelope. But the house in the Hamptons I loved so much now had more memories with him. I didn’t know if that would be an option any longer for me either.
“That hasn’t disappeared.” His voice was even, reasonable.
I held his gaze. “Some of it has.”
“You spend your life galivanting all over the world. What do you want? For me to wait here until you decide to grace the city with your presence again?” Now there was a tinge of bitterness in his words.
“There are plenty of crusades here,” I snipped. Then I took a deep, calming breath. “You could come with me sometimes. Whenever you wanted.”
His hands gripped the edge of the counter. “You’ve spent two decades avoiding me. This is quite the turnabout.”
“I feel what I feel.” I stared at him. “It makes no sense, I’ll give you that. But I”—I swallowed hard—“I wish we’d had more time in the beginning. That you wouldn’t have married Alma so quickly. Maybe things would’ve been different.” I dropped my chin to my chest. Being honest with Kane was frightening, but I had more to lose by hiding.
“What are you trying to say? That you’d have married me instead?”
My face grew hot. “Maybe.”
He was determined to make me squirm.
“So it’s my fault things worked out the way they did?”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying at all,” I said, voice rising. “I was wrong to hate you without reason.”
“You hated me because I put my pants in the dryer.”
I glared, ignoring that remark. “I was wrong not to tell you about Penelope. If I had . . . I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe we could’ve . . .”
“Could’ve what?”
“Could’ve been a family,” I said in a rush.
His expression gave nothing away, again reminding me why he was so good at his job. I couldn’t read him.
“Is that what you want? To be a family?”
“I’d like to at least explore the option.” I spoke to my feet. My bravery was officially spent for one day.
Then his shoes were in my view. He hooked my chin with his finger and tilted my head so I had to look at him.
“It’s about damn time you’re the one answering questions instead of me.”
I shoved at his stomach. “Are you enjoying making me uncomfortable?”
“Very much. It’s only fair you get a taste of how you make me feel.”
Gah, those eyes. They were endless pools of mystery, though there was something there that made me feel safe.
