After making a few rounds and more tedious small talk, Savannah said they could leave.
Thank. God.
Though it hadn’t been as boring as Cole had thought it would be. At least the bidding war had been entertaining.
He drove Savannah back to her place.
“Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked as he pulled into the driveway.
“Sure.”
He grabbed the bag from the backseat and followed her inside.
Savannah laid her purse on the table and strolled into the kitchen while he shut the front door. “I’ll go pour some wine.”
“Just water for me.”
“Fine. I’ll be back.”
When she came back out, she handed him the water. He handed her the bag.
She frowned. “What’s this?”
“I didn’t want to upset you, but this seemed to hold your attention at the auction. I wanted you to have it.”
She set her glass down on the table next to the sofa and opened the bag. She pulled out the music box. Her hand shook as she laid it over the box.
“Oh.” She lifted the lid and the music played. Her bottom lip trembled.
“Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have. I’ll take it.” He reached for it, but she closed the box and laid her hand over his, then lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with tears. “No. Don’t. It was so thoughtful of you to buy this for me. I can’t believe you did that.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I knew it upset you. But I wasn’t sure if it was good memories or bad.”
She shuddered out an exhale. “A little of both, actually.”
He took the box from her hand and laid it on the coffee table, then pulled her to the sofa, reaching for her glass of wine to hand it to her. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“I don’t like to talk about my past.”
“Maybe you should.”
She stared at the box and took a sip of wine. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“It obviously bothers you. And you know me, I don’t leave anything unsaid, including things I probably should. I’m the best person to unload on.”
The corners of her mouth lifted in the hint of a smile. “No, you definitely don’t leave things unsaid.”
“But the media isn’t here. No one’s here but you and me. And you can trust me. I’m the last person who’s ever going to spill your secrets.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He swept a curl that had escaped behind her ear. “Because something in that box opened up memories, and those memories are hurting you. And like the music in that box, it’s obviously something you’re shutting away instead of dealing with. You should talk about it—exorcise the ghost and make it go away.”
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “You’re a pretty smart guy.”
“And that surprises you?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay, then. Start talking.”
SEVENTEEN
SAVANNAH DIDN’T KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN, OR IF SHE should even talk about everything she’d bottled up inside.
It had been brewing for a while now. Maybe since that day she’d gone for dinner at Cole’s family’s house. It had been nice to spend time with his family, but also unsettling, seeing what he had and dislodging memories of what she’d never had. Then the conversation with Elizabeth and now the music box.
She was shocked Cole had bought the music box for her. Such a sweet gesture. Even more gallant was his willingness to sit here and listen to her problems.
What man voluntarily did that? No man she’d ever dated. Not that she and Cole were dating. They certainly weren’t. Having sex, yes. Dating …no.
He was being kind. Something that wasn’t typically attributed to him.
She was learning so many things about him.
“So? Are you going to talk?”
She shifted her focus back to him. He stared at her intently, held her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over hers. “This isn’t part of my job.”
“Consider yourself off duty, Miss Brooks. Now unload on me. Tell me about the music.”
She took a deep breath, then let it out, realizing maybe it was time to talk about it. “I mentioned it was a song my mother liked.”
“You did. You miss your mom?”
She let out a quiet laugh. “No. Yes and no. I don’t know. Not really.” She paused. “Sometimes. It’s hard to miss what you never really had.”
“Okay, that was a mouthful. Talk to me about your mom. You told me a while back it was just the two of you. Were you close?”
“No.”
That one word said a lot. Cole heard the pain and bitterness in that word. And loneliness.
“Did she have to work a lot to support the two of you?”
“Support? No, she didn’t work to support us. Mostly she was on welfare, food stamps, whatever she could do to get by. She’d work occasionally, but only when she absolutely had to, when the system made her. When I was old enough to stay alone, she’d go out at night and work—sometimes.”