distraction.
Simon must have felt the same because he broke first. Holding up the bag, he mumbled, “I brought muffins.”
“Oh.” Her uneasy stomach almost revolted at the thought of the rich pastry. “Well, thank you.”
“Chocolate and blueberry. I mean, one of each, not together. I didn’t know what you wanted. I mean—”
He seemed to forcibly stop himself, and as she stared into dazed green eyes, Amanda realized he was as shocked by his inane outburst as she was. Simon was a lot of things, but a rambler was not one of them, and there was something oddly endearing about watching him bumble around. Maybe because it meant he was even more nervous than she was.
Concern bloomed inside of her, along with a hint of affection that made her head hurt all over again. She tried to nip both emotions in the bud, not wanting to feel anything for him after the debacle of yesterday afternoon. But it was nearly impossible. Not when she suddenly remembered all of his good points and the warm feelings she’d once had for him. Feelings that she’d thought had been totally eclipsed by what he’d done eighteen months before. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure, and while that uncertainty made her very nervous, she also felt more compassion toward Simon than she had in a long time.
“Blueberry,” she told him.
“What?” he asked, staring at her blankly. She almost laughed. It was as if his mouth had been totally disconnected from his brain.
“The muffin. I’ll take blueberry.” But only because she remembered that he had a liking for all things chocolate. “You want to sit down?”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” He handed her a bag, before sinking gratefully into the chair near the window, while she perched on the bed.
She stared at the pastry for long seconds, trying to decide if her stomach could handle the sugar and fat it was sure to be loaded with. Before she could make up her mind, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Amanda.”
The words were so unexpected that at first she couldn’t process them. But as they sank in, she found herself stiffening, her fingers forming fists of their own volition.
“For what?” she asked, the words coming automatically. But as she waited for him to answer, she realized they were completely apropos. Not because she didn’t think he had anything to apologize for, but because he’d done so many things wrong, she wanted to be clear what it was he was sorry for.
He looked her straight in the eye. “For drugging you, for bringing you here against your will. For—”
She forgot how to breathe, waiting for the words she’d spent the past eighteen months anticipating, but never really thinking she’d hear. Still, when they came, she was completely unprepared.
“For Gabby. I’m so sorry for not being there, when she died. I should have listened to you. I should have—” He crossed to the window, but not before Amanda saw the tears sliding down his face.
She wanted to be hard-hearted. Wanted to let him suffer, as she had for so long. But now that the moment she’d thought she wanted was finally here, she couldn’t do it. She had loved this man once, enough to want to marry him. Enough to have his child. And no matter how satisfying she’d thought it would be to see him humbled, she was in no way ready for the reality of it.
Crossing the room quickly and quietly, she slipped her arms around his waist. Rested her cheek against the rigid muscles of his shoulders. He stiffened even more, jerked as though an electric current had hit him. But he didn’t pull away and neither did she.
“She asked for you. At the end. She wanted to see you.” She didn’t say the words to hurt him, but because they needed to be said. For months now, she’d held them inside and nursed her bitterness. Nursed her anger and disappointment at him.
That’s not why she told him, though. She told him because she could hear his heart beating unsteadily beneath her ear, feel the same anguish coming off him that she’d
Simon must have felt the same because he broke first. Holding up the bag, he mumbled, “I brought muffins.”
“Oh.” Her uneasy stomach almost revolted at the thought of the rich pastry. “Well, thank you.”
“Chocolate and blueberry. I mean, one of each, not together. I didn’t know what you wanted. I mean—”
He seemed to forcibly stop himself, and as she stared into dazed green eyes, Amanda realized he was as shocked by his inane outburst as she was. Simon was a lot of things, but a rambler was not one of them, and there was something oddly endearing about watching him bumble around. Maybe because it meant he was even more nervous than she was.
Concern bloomed inside of her, along with a hint of affection that made her head hurt all over again. She tried to nip both emotions in the bud, not wanting to feel anything for him after the debacle of yesterday afternoon. But it was nearly impossible. Not when she suddenly remembered all of his good points and the warm feelings she’d once had for him. Feelings that she’d thought had been totally eclipsed by what he’d done eighteen months before. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure, and while that uncertainty made her very nervous, she also felt more compassion toward Simon than she had in a long time.
“Blueberry,” she told him.
“What?” he asked, staring at her blankly. She almost laughed. It was as if his mouth had been totally disconnected from his brain.
“The muffin. I’ll take blueberry.” But only because she remembered that he had a liking for all things chocolate. “You want to sit down?”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” He handed her a bag, before sinking gratefully into the chair near the window, while she perched on the bed.
She stared at the pastry for long seconds, trying to decide if her stomach could handle the sugar and fat it was sure to be loaded with. Before she could make up her mind, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Amanda.”
The words were so unexpected that at first she couldn’t process them. But as they sank in, she found herself stiffening, her fingers forming fists of their own volition.
“For what?” she asked, the words coming automatically. But as she waited for him to answer, she realized they were completely apropos. Not because she didn’t think he had anything to apologize for, but because he’d done so many things wrong, she wanted to be clear what it was he was sorry for.
He looked her straight in the eye. “For drugging you, for bringing you here against your will. For—”
She forgot how to breathe, waiting for the words she’d spent the past eighteen months anticipating, but never really thinking she’d hear. Still, when they came, she was completely unprepared.
“For Gabby. I’m so sorry for not being there, when she died. I should have listened to you. I should have—” He crossed to the window, but not before Amanda saw the tears sliding down his face.
She wanted to be hard-hearted. Wanted to let him suffer, as she had for so long. But now that the moment she’d thought she wanted was finally here, she couldn’t do it. She had loved this man once, enough to want to marry him. Enough to have his child. And no matter how satisfying she’d thought it would be to see him humbled, she was in no way ready for the reality of it.
Crossing the room quickly and quietly, she slipped her arms around his waist. Rested her cheek against the rigid muscles of his shoulders. He stiffened even more, jerked as though an electric current had hit him. But he didn’t pull away and neither did she.
“She asked for you. At the end. She wanted to see you.” She didn’t say the words to hurt him, but because they needed to be said. For months now, she’d held them inside and nursed her bitterness. Nursed her anger and disappointment at him.
That’s not why she told him, though. She told him because she could hear his heart beating unsteadily beneath her ear, feel the same anguish coming off him that she’d
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