His sister started to say something else, but he pulled the phone from his ear and pressed End, then placed it on the couch between himself and Laire.
He could tell, from the way Laire’s shoulders were shaking, that she was crying, and it hurt him to see her so undone, but his mind was racing with the knowledge he’d gained tonight. She’d felt responsible for her father’s heart attack and held him responsible too. And then, probably just after he’d left for college, she’d found that picture of him and Vanessa online. That’s why she hadn’t shown up for Thanksgiving—she thought he’d been cheating on her. No wonder she’d been so angry from the moment he’d seen her last night. No wonder she’d treated him with such disdain.
He sighed. “You thought I cheated on you.”
“Mm-hm,” she sobbed, sniffling softly as she raised her head. “It really looked that way.”
He nodded. “I can see that. But didn’t you trust me at all, darlin’?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know,” she said. “I was so young. You were my first . . . everything. We were from such different worlds, and you were going back to college. And then I found out about you and Vanessa . . . and . . .”
“And you assumed the worst.”
“You let me think Van was a guy, Erik. On purpose.”
“I did. Because, if I recall, you had a jealous streak. I didn’t want my friendship with Van to complicate things between us when I didn’t feel anythin’ for her.”
“Well, it did,” she said softly, “complicate things.”
“You must have thought I was a total piece of shit,” he said, rubbing his face, looking over at her, curled into a ball in the corner of the couch, her face tear streaked and shattered.
She sighed, loosening one of her arms from around her knees and reaching out her hand. He took it, of course, because, no matter what he’d believed all these years, the sort of love that Erik Rexford had had for Laire Cornish wasn’t the type that died. It was still there, living inside him, dormant but safe, waiting for her all these years, for the opportunity to bloom again.
He threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her hand, pulling her from the corner to his side. She knelt beside him, facing his profile, looking up at his face.
“It hurt,” she admitted. “Bad. So fucking bad.”
“I can only imagine,” he said.
“Mostly because it felt so real to me . . . you and me. I . . . I couldn’t understand how you could say the things you said to me . . . act the way you had with me . . . and for there to be another woman in your life the whole time.”
“It must have negated everythin’ you thought you knew about me,” he said, dragging her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it tenderly.
“It didn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t let it. I separated you into two people.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think . . . I mean, there was the you who loved me that summer, and then there was the you who betrayed me. Two separate people.”
“You mean, in your mind.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Who were they?”
She gulped, wetting her lips. “My Erik.” She paused. “And the Governor’s Son.”
He stared at her, tracing the lines of her face with his eyes, hating the words “the Governor’s Son” as much as he always had, times a hundred.
“I’m sorry,” she said, covering their bound hands with her free one.
“Who am I now?” he whispered, capturing her sea-green eyes with his.
“I don’t know for sure,” she murmured.
“I do,” he said, using his free hand to cup her cheek. “I’m still your Erik. I’ll always be your Erik. No matter what.”
With a gasp and a cry, she released his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers, her lips finding his unerringly, as they always had.
With a growl of arousal, he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms as he kissed her back. His tongue sought hers, and he reacquainted himself with the pliancy of her pillowy lips, the soft texture of her tongue, the sweet taste of her mouth. Here was his beautiful girl, back in his arms, and his heart thundered with the goodness of it, while another part of him hardened lustily with desperate want.
This woman on his lap, in his arms, had haunted his dreams—asleep and waking—for six long years, and having her back in his life so suddenly was rousing feelings in him that had lain dormant for years. Now awakened, they were hungry and urgent.
He’d never wanted anyone so much in his entire life.
She drew back from him, resting her forehead against his shoulder, panting softly against his neck.
“How does this work?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her as he whispered into her ear.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to see you. I want to catch up, to know you again. I want . . . I want to date you. I want another chance to be with you.”