This was when she expected him to deny her, to make up some excuse that he thought she would want to hear. Funny thing was, the truth was the last thing she expected from him.
“You were falling in love with me,” he said after a moment, shifting his gaze from his hands to her face, and whatever emotion portrayed on her face seemed to affirm whatever he was thinking in his head. “And love, I wanted no part of that.”
No, Reagan hadn’t liked his answer. She almost wished she could have taken the question back and erased his answer from her memory.
But he had been right, of course. She had been falling in love with him, no matter how stupid that it was. Except, she hadn’t thought she had been so transparent with how she felt about him.
More hurt than angry, she tried to speak past the lump in her throat. “Then why are you here now?”
Now he looked unsettled. “I answered that.”
“No, you said you came back to Hell’s Kitchen for me, but you didn’t say why you came for me at all.”
He looked blank, all emotion wiper clear of his face. It was almost frightening seeing him do that, from giving her everything to giving her nothing.
“There’s just…something about you.”
“I don’t know if I have it in me to do this with you all over again, Niklaus.” She shook her head, glancing down the street. “Why can’t you just walk away? I’m not going to ask you to stay.”
“I can’t. If I could, I would have stayed gone, but here I am.”
All of this had been said in an almost cool detached manner, but for whatever reason—maybe just because her stupid heart wanted it—she believed him.
But in the end, it didn’t matter what her heart wanted. “Go home, Niklaus, or wherever it is you’re laying your head tonight. And please, for both our sakes, don’t come back. There’s no point in hurting us both another time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
After the night before, Reagan was glad that the pub was closed on Mondays—she didn’t think she had the energy to run the place. She’d been restless all night, too wired to sleep much, but far too tired to do anything more than lay in bed and think of her conversation with Niklaus.
It had been so much easier talking to him in the beginning, back before he’d broken her heart and she was forced to deal with men like Liam. As she stood in the kitchen, washing dishes and straightening up, she wondered whether things might have been different between them had he come back before Liam had come into her life.
Would she have been more receptive?
Would she have been willing to hear him out if the threat of what Liam might do wasn’t hanging over her head?
Then again, maybe she could tell Niklaus about him. He wasn’t from around there, and could possibly help…but was she willing to bet his life on it?
Finishing with the last plate, she dried it with a towel and placed it in the cabinet, a hard knock at the door nearly making her drop it. Wiping her hands off on her shorts, a sliver of excitement went through her as she turned the locks, imagining who was on the other side.
But that excitement died a quick death.
It wasn’t Niklaus standing there, but Liam, holding a bouquet of red roses, a wide smile on his handsome face. He was dressed in his customary suit, but his jacket was missing, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Anyone else—or maybe a particular someone else—might have made her smile, blush even, but the sight of Liam only made her wary.
“What are you doing here?” It seemed she’d been asking that question a lot lately.
He held the flowers out for her to take, and after a moment, she did, but she didn’t bring them close to inhale their aroma, but kept them out in front of her like she was afraid for them to touch her skin.
“I wanted to apologize for yesterday.” He cut off there, giving her a pointed look that she didn’t misunderstand.
He wasn’t done talking, but he wouldn’t say more, not until she invited him in.
Wanting to get this over as soon as possible, Reagan stepped to the side, allowing him to slip past her. He had never been inside her apartment—and hadn’t pressed the issue. Unlike with Niklaus, she wasn’t surprised that Liam knew where she lived.
It was only after she’d closed the door and he’d taken a seat on the couch did he go on.
“I made a promise to you. Your little pub is important to you and I respect that.”
Why was it that he had to diminish it if he knew that it was important to her? By calling it little, as though it was practically insignificant, he was telling her that she thought more of the place than he did.
Not knowing how to respond to that—or at the very least, not knowing what to say that wouldn’t make him mad, Reagan elected to stay quiet, giving him a chance to say his piece so he could leave.
“But that’s beside the point. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. Jimmy knows better than that, doesn’t he?”
“My brother does what he wants.”