Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

She looked up as he entered, her expression unreadable. He stepped into her office and closed the door behind him.

He’d imagined seeing her again so many times while he’d been gone. He’d pictured her rushing into his arms, holding him tight and never letting go. He’d thought about her having dinner with him and Reese, then sneaking in a few kisses after he drove her home. He’d hoped this weekend they would have a repeat performance of their last night together.

He wanted to be angry, but he knew the fault was his. Mistakes from the past had come back to haunt him.

“Hey,” he said as he took a seat. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

She looked tired. Or maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see. That she hadn’t been sleeping well because of the decision she had to make. The truth was probably much harsher—that she didn’t care enough to sweat his reaction.

“I know what you want to say,” he began, figuring there was no point in pretending otherwise. “You’re not interested in a regular guy like me. You thought you were, but all that danger and testosterone is more interesting than a man who teaches math to teenagers.”

Consuelo slowly rose to her feet. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He frowned. “You sound angry.”

“Of course I’m angry. I’m hurt and I should know better, right? The joke’s on me for thinking you were different.”

“Because of Lorraine.”

Her dark eyes widened. “Who is Lorraine? You disappeared for three days and then you cheated?”

“What? No. Lorraine is my ex.”

“You saw your ex?”

“Of course not. What are you talking about?”

“I get to ask the questions,” she snapped. “Where the hell have you been?”

“At a three-day retreat with my math class. Our first competition is next month.” He blinked. “I told you in the card I left for you. I stopped by on my way out of town. With everything that happened on our last night together, I couldn’t remember if I’d said anything or not. I didn’t want you to worry. We were in Sacramento. Sixteen kids and about that many parents.”

She pointed to her fairly clean desk. “There’s no card.”

Kent studied her for a second, hoping that maybe, just maybe, there’d been a misunderstanding. Something they could get over. Because having her stare at him with a combination of pain and loathing hurt him more than he’d thought possible.

He stood and crossed to the bulletin board by the door. He’d tacked a small envelope there. Now he pulled it free and handed it to her.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the writing on the front.

“You left me a note?” she asked, her voice oddly small.

He nodded.

“When?”

“The next morning.”

She opened it slowly and scanned the card inside. He knew the message explained about the math retreat and asked her to call him when she could.

Consuelo swallowed. “I didn’t know,” she breathed. “I thought you’d just disappeared. I thought you didn’t want...” She pressed her lips together. “Then if you didn’t break up with me, what are you talking about?”

He was still processing the new information. “You were avoiding me because you thought I hadn’t called?”

She nodded.

“I’d never do that.”

“That’s what I thought. So I couldn’t believe I’d been wrong about you.” He started toward her, but she shook her head. “No. Tell me what you were going to say before.”

He swore silently. “I thought you were avoiding me because you’d figured out I wasn’t that interesting. That you were disappointed it took me so long to get over my ex-wife. I couldn’t face the fact that I was wrong about her. I fell in love with her. I asked her to marry me. I had a child with her and then she left. She walked out on me and on Reese. I get leaving the marriage, but her own kid?”

He started to turn away but knew he had to face her. Had to be completely honest.

“I was forced to realize I’d been an idiot from the beginning. That everything about our marriage was a sham. I was hurt and embarrassed and struggling with being a single dad. I didn’t want to face my mistakes, so it was easier to tell everyone I was waiting for Lorraine to come back. Then it became a pattern, and I didn’t know how to break it. I couldn’t get over her until I was willing to admit the truth about her. About us. And that took longer than it should have.”

“How did you finally move on?”

“I guess I got tired of whining,” he admitted. “I accepted I’d made a bad decision, did my best to learn from it and prepared to start dating again. What I couldn’t prepare for was meeting you.”

Her dark gaze never left his face. She drew in a breath, but didn’t speak. He knew it was all up to him.