He kissed her crumpled brow. He really was an ass. She’d called him from Prague for reassurance about her life-changing decision, and he’d been so focused on himself, he’d basically brushed off her concerns.
“What’s done is done,” he said, and she tilted her head to look up at him.
She lifted both eyebrows. “I’m still not letting you off the hook, Kellen Jamison.”
“I wasn’t referring to what I did. I expect to do a lot of groveling.”
Her little smirk made his heart tremble. “Good. Grab my bags, will you? And point me in the direction of your car.”
He slung her carry-on over one shoulder and grabbed the handle of her small suitcase. His free hand sought hers and when she looked at him, he said, “Groveling will include lots of hand-holding, stolen kisses, lovesick looks, and oral pleasure.”
She bit her lip, the tiniest of moans escaping her, and allowed him to hold her hand as they made their way to his car.
“Do they even make these things anymore?” she asked as he opened the trunk of his perfectly restored ’73 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.
“No, ma’am. It was my grandfather’s.” Most of the material possessions he loved and held dear had once belonged to his grandfather.
“Should have known you’d drive a badass car.” She grinned at him. “I didn’t think that Toyota was you.”
“That was a rental.” He stowed her luggage in the trunk and opened the passenger door.
She pointed at the small box on her seat.
“That’s for you,” he said. “When you’re ready to start hearing my apologies.”
She lifted the box before settling into the leather bucket seat and setting her gift on her lap. He waited a breath to see if she’d open it and when she didn’t, he carefully closed her door and ventured to the driver’s side. He took a deep steadying breath before climbing in beside her. She still hadn’t unwrapped the gift or even fingered the ribbon he’d tied in a complicated design around the box. She was staring straight ahead at the dashboard, as if opening the small token of his regret was her forgiveness and she wasn’t quite ready to take that step yet. He wouldn’t push her. He had no right to.
“Did you enjoy kissing Owen?” she asked quietly. The fist on her lap was clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white.
He could lie and lessen her pain, but she deserved to hear the truth. “Very much.”
“And you want him, don’t you?”
“Not as much as I want you.”
“And he wants you?”
“Not at all.”
Her tongue wet her lips. “He told you as much?”
“He hasn’t spoken to me since it happened. I’d say there’s my answer.”
Her finger traced the black ribbon crisscrossing the shiny red box. “I don’t think it’s the answer you believe it to be,” she said quietly, and then, as if she hadn’t spoken the most confusing words he’d ever heard, she asked, “Can we stop somewhere for lunch?”
“Whatever your heart desires.”
She reached over and covered his hand, which was gripping the steering wheel. “You. My heart desires you. That’s why all of this is so damned hard.”
Her lashes flicked upward, and all the hurt he’d expected to see in the terminal was now written in her troubled gaze.
“Your heart already has me,” he said.
“Then I want a hamburger.”
His snorted laugh was laced with agony. He hated that he’d caused her to doubt his feelings—his sincerity. Hated that he’d broken her trust.
“I love you.” The words slipped out before he could consider what he was saying or how it would make her feel at that moment.
Her hand slid from the back of his, but he caught it before she could take her touch from him, and pressed her knuckles against his thudding heart.
“You’re not allowed to say that to me right now,” she whispered, a single tear streaking down her cheek.
“Then I’ll just think it.”
She swallowed and turned to look out her window. He’d yet to start the car, so her view was of the big white SUV parked beside them. “I want fries too.”
He blew out a breath and released her hand so he could start the car. It roared to life, its familiar rumble steadying him as he shifted into reverse. They’d get through this. They had to. He couldn’t take another heartbreak.
Chapter Nineteen
As hungry as she was, Dawn only took a few bites of the hamburger she’d claimed to want. She didn’t even touch her fries. She’d thought being trapped in a car with Kellen for a few hours would allow them to talk and sort through their differences. Instead, the silence that spread between them seemed unbreakable. She pretended to nap, but her thoughts were too full to allow anything as restful as sleep.
“We’re almost there,” Kellen said when they were close to Austin. “Aren’t you going to open your gift?”
The smallish red box sat on her lap, its ribbon laced in an intricate pattern that reminded her of a spider web. She found the end of the black satin tucked into the underside and began the long involved process of untying the binding. It was strangely cathartic, as if each released knot allowed her to let go of her pain one piece at a time.
She could still hear Kellen’s whispered confession—I love you—echoing through her thoughts and squeezing at her heart. But could she bring herself to truly believe it when she knew he longed for another?
When the ribbon finally fell free as one long silky piece, she fingered the box lid with indecision before lifting it. Inside was a small wooden music box. Hadn’t Kellen proposed to Sara by putting her engagement ring in a music box? A dolphin-shaped music box. Dawn clearly remembered him telling her that.
She glanced at him, looking for clues, but his eyes were on the road. She lifted the music box out of its container and the lid opened slightly, causing it to release the sound of a single tinkling note. Just one note, but she already knew what song it would play—her favorite of Chopin’s nocturnes.
Her hands trembled as she opened the lid. Would there be a ring inside? What would she do if there was? They hadn’t known each other long enough to consider such a hefty commitment. She had yet to tell him she loved him.
When the lid was fully lifted, she found she’d been right. The song was Nocturne 20. A folded note was nestled among the black velvet lining of the box. She looked at Kellen—still minding the road like a first-time driver—and then unfolded the paper.
Were you expecting a ring?
She laughed and tossed the paper at him. “That was mean.”
“Did you want it to be a ring?” he asked.
She had, damn him, but bit her lip so she didn’t let that desire slip from her blurty mouth. She’d already forgiven him, damn him even more, and wished they could just put this mess behind them, damn him again.
“You want the grand gesture,” he said, looking at her at long last. “Remember?”
How could she forget?
She turned her attention to the now-empty box, listening to the soft tinkling it made. “I should make you squirm,” she said. “Make you feel as terrible as I feel.”
“I’m dying on the inside, if that knowledge is helpful.”