And her.
“Hi,” she offered, clutching a colorful purse that seemed so incongruent to Mel he didn’t know what was happening. Was that even her? All meek-voiced and in that weird getup?
“That’s quite an outfit.” He’d wince at the asshole greeting if he didn’t so clearly remember the last time he’d seen her. Running away.
“I…borrowed most of this from Summer,” she said, waving awkwardly at herself. “Your Dad suggested I come here. I mean, Chicago was my idea, but when I talked to him about how to find you, he said here. That way you could…you know, ignore me if you didn’t want to talk to me, and he’d give me a ride back to the airport.”
“You talked to my dad?”
“I talked to a lot of people. It wasn’t easy figuring out where you’d be and if I’d be able to see you.”
He wasn’t warmed by that. He wasn’t affected by that at all. No, sir. “So. Why’d you do all that?”
Mel looked around the room, and there were a handful of people looking right back. Probably wondering who the strange woman talking to Dan Sharpe was.
“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, taking her elbow and immediately regretting it. He wanted to curl his entire hand around her arm, feel the smooth muscle underneath, haul her to him and forget that past week had gotten so fucked up.
But that solved nothing. Certainly not her, and she was the one who needed solving. He’d been right and she’d been…
Scared.
Well, like he wasn’t?
Still, he steered her out of the room, out of the building, to the VIP parking lot and his rental car, if only because as soon as they got to his car, he wouldn’t have to lead her. He could let go. Not that he was affected by simply touching her. Not that it made him desperate for her. Not in the least.
Breaking that connection was relief not…pain. The pain had been in her walking away.
“Get in,” he instructed, sliding into the driver’s seat. He waited almost a full minute, all but holding his breath, before she finally opened the passenger door and slid in. Her dress edged up her thighs.
“You know that’s not fair.”
“What?”
“Your legs.”
She smoothed a hand over her skirt, looking somehow sheepish and pleased. “I…I didn’t want to seem out of place.”
“You are out of place.” I’m out of place, he wanted to say, but he kept that in. “Why are you here, Mel?”
She took a deep breath, then shifted in her seat so she was facing him. “I’m here because I’m sorry. And I love you.”
He wanted to laugh, because while he hadn’t exactly expected her to spit in his face, such a straight answer was beyond him at the moment.
Sorry and I love you? Strangely, as much as he had wanted to hear her say it before, now that she was, it wasn’t enough.
Chapter 27
Mel tried to read his expression, but she didn’t know what she saw. She didn’t know anything. She felt like some other person, and he seemed like some other person, and she didn’t know what to do. Not beyond what she’d already said.
He didn’t look at her, just stared out his windshield—at nothing but concrete and expensive cars. “You’re sorry. And you love me.”
She blew out a breath. She hadn’t let herself imagine he would say go to hell, because she never would have been able to get on that plane, call a million people she didn’t know, and navigate getting here. But she could see a million ways and reasons he would do that now.
Except she was here, and she had to keep trying. “Yes.”
“Have you ever heard the phrase too little, too late?”
“Have you ever heard the phrase better late than never?” The quip was so unlike her, so like him, she surprised even herself, and was rewarded when his lips curled a fraction and he expelled a breath she was going to call a laugh. “It’s never too late to fix a mistake. It might be too late for you to forgive me, but…”
“But what, Mel? Because if I remember correctly, you looked me straight in the eye and told me you didn’t believe in me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. For as much as it hurt him, the reminder was a painful thing for her as well. Without the panic supporting that decision, she could feel the ugliness of it. A gross betrayal of trust to lie like that. “I was scared.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” he muttered.
All the pretty speeches she’d memorized in the airport, on the airplane, in the cab, jumbled in her head. She didn’t know how to be honest and open with snarky, angry Dan.
Then maybe you should have been open and honest when he was being all sweet and…loving.
Right. So it was her turn to be sweet and loving in the face of anger and hurt. Something akin to penance. She deserved this. She needed to find the courage to face it. So she pushed a hand to her stomach, took a deep breath, and just spoke whatever truths she could find.