She made herself turn her attention from his sparkling brown eyes to the television and prayed the show could distract her from the surrealness and sweetness of eating a meal with Blake again, vegging out in front of the TV. Just the three of them like old times.
They watched in silence, munching on their food. Her hand stole onto his plate to grab the beet and pear slices he’d saved for her. When he didn’t reach for the fries she’d left him, she placed them on his plate. He muttered his thanks and kicked back with his feet propped on the coffee table, giving her a way-too-tantalizing view of his legs. Of course, he knew how she felt about his legs, so she wondered if he’d done it on purpose. But when she looked at him from the corner of her eye, he seemed engrossed in the show. He was idly stroking Touchdown, she noticed, who lay on his right leg, a content expression on his furry face.
Jerking her attention back to the show, she watched the first meeting between Jamie and Claire. Blake winced when the nurse set the Highlander’s dislocated shoulder. She watched as he rubbed his left shoulder, the one he’d dislocated in a game against the Washington Warriors. He’d taken a deadly sack after airing the ball out forty yards for a touchdown that led to a last-minute win. She had to fist her hands in her lap to keep from rubbing that shoulder in comfort like she’d done so many times in the past.
“You’d better grab your shake,” he said, noticing she’d finished her food.
Pausing the show, she rose and poured half the shake into a glass, leaving the other half for tomorrow. She’d already overeaten, but she didn’t care. And she wasn’t going to feel bad about enjoying two desserts. She was so not including her earlier candy binge in her count.
When the first episode finished, she hit play for the next one—afraid to disturb the peaceful silence between them. Even though her bladder was screaming, she didn’t move to relieve it. Touchdown was snoring softly by the end of the second episode, and when the credits rolled, she reached for the remote.
“Maybe we can watch the next one some other time,” Blake said before she could decide whether to stop or hit play. “You have to go to work in the morning.”
He’d always been good about that. He had never asked her to wait for him to shower and dress and talk to the press after his late evening games. Sometimes she’d be asleep when he finally did get home, but he wouldn’t wake her up to talk about the game. He’d save everything he wanted to discuss for when they were both home the next day—even if it was only for a few hours because of his hectic schedule.
Without asking, Blake stacked their plates and glasses and rose, leaving her with nothing to sweep up except a few stray bread crumbs.
He drew a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his shorts as they walked back into the kitchen together. “Some ideas for your menu and times for our meals.”
Their truce was so delicate she could only nod and watch him set it on the kitchen island.
“They stuck pretty well to the book, don’t you think?” he asked, loading the dishes into the dishwasher.
The paper towel she’d grabbed to wipe down the counters fluttered to the floor. “How would you know that?”
He lurched forward to pick it up and handed it to her. “I…ah…read the series.”
Her hand curled around the paper towel. “You did? When?”
Okay, that was a stupid question. She watched with some helplessness as red stained his ears.
“After you left. I…ah…was trying to see if Jamie could give me any ideas about winning you back.”
The paper she was holding crumbled in her fist. Oh, Blake. She thought back to what Andy had said…how Kim had believed Blake was the best possible match for her. What other man would read his ex-wife’s favorite romance novel to look for relationship clues?
“And Jamie did,” he added in a voice rough with emotion. “He came back to Claire and laid his heart at her feet even after she made it clear she didn’t want him anymore. He bared his soul to her and asked her to forgive him.”
The vibration of her rapidly beating heart shattered every wall of numbness she’d enclosed herself in, and raw, oozing hurt poured out.
His brown eyes were both hopeful and wary when they met hers. “I hope some day you’ll forgive me too. I’d better be going.”
As he walked to the door to open it, he whistled for Touchdown, who awoke with a snort and leaped off the couch to join him. “Do you want Touchdown to stay for another day or two? You haven’t had him for so long…”
No, and she hadn’t had Blake in her life for so long either. This one night had been a stark reminder of all those lonely and awful evenings she’d spent alone in front of the television, trying to forget a past she could never completely erase.
“No, we had a deal.” A pressure was rising in her chest. She couldn’t let him leave like this. Not after tonight. “Blake, there’s nothing to forgive.”