Could Mark not understand? Maybe he was as cold and unfeeling as she’d convinced herself he was, because he didn’t seem to get it. Oh, I’ll swoop in and rescue her like a knight on a steed, and she’ll be okay even though I ripped her life apart six months ago. Piece of cake.
“If you want to rebuild this thing,” she said, forcing her voice to remain even, “then we have to start small. Dinner was good. Let’s leave it at that for now. Please. There’s much more to work out than we can fix in a single night.”
“Is there a chance?” he asked softly.
She gazed at his handsome face, almost wishing that they were in some alternate universe where the wedding had happened, six months had passed, and they were excitedly expecting their first child. She hadn’t gone home for the summer; she’d never laid eyes on Ian Rhodes.
Kind of like the fantasy she and Ian had shared the night they went to the lake. She’d been happy with that one.
But that wasn’t their world, was it? And, despite everything, she wouldn’t change the way things had happened. She wouldn’t. Because she would have missed out on some beautiful moments.
“Maybe,” she told him. “That’s all I can give you right now. I don’t want to get your hopes up, honestly, but I’m not closing the door on the idea either. Okay?”
He didn’t look happy with her answer, but she couldn’t help that. It would be too easy for her to fall into Mark’s ploys. For one thing, if she went home with him, saw the beautiful house she’d lived in, slipped back into the life that had been snatched away from her…she might be a goner. No, she couldn’t do that.
“So…thank you for a beautiful dinner, but I think I should go home now.” She averted her gaze to the centerpiece of their table.
Mark sighed, pulling his hand away. “Fair enough.” He helped her from her chair, kept his hand at the small of her back as he steered her out of the building. A moment later, the valet pulled up in his blue BMW, and he tucked her inside. Never let it be said he wasn’t a gentleman, at least when it came to manners.
After she settled in the car, she dug her silenced cell phone from her clutch and swallowed hard past the knot that formed in her throat. Ian had tried to call her. Several times.
Instead of being happy about that, though, she truly hadn’t realized how angry she was at him until that moment.
“I’ve loved seeing you tonight,” Mark said as he entered the freeway, oblivious to her turmoil.
“It’s been great seeing you too.”
“And I’m glad you’re open to us going out again.”
“Mm-hmm.” She gazed distractedly out her window, thinking of burning hot hazel eyes…and then of punching one of them out. Of course, she’d never resort to violence. Only in her mind.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
Jolted out of her thoughts, she whipped her head around to stare at Mark. “Well…it’s kind of hard not to. I’m pregnant with his kid.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Can we not end on this note?” She rubbed wearily at her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache blossom behind her eyes.
“I’d simply like to know who my competition is. Your mother didn’t tell me much.”
Well, hallelujah for small favors. She’d remember to thank her mother for that the next time they spoke.
Competition. She knew better. Mark wouldn’t consider Ian competition as much as he’d think of him as a bug to squash. When it came to wealth, power and prestige, it was a case of David versus Goliath. That might have mattered to Gabby in the past. Not so much anymore.
“He’s a regular guy. He works, he hangs out with his friends, he rides a motorcycle, he keeps to himself a lot, and…”
I love him.
Her eyes closed. She felt tears gather behind her lids, exacerbating the pressure in her head. God, she needed a Tylenol.
“Abandons you when you need him most?” Mark supplied.
“I seem to have a lot of that in my relationships, don’t I?”
He sighed, his jaw tightening. “You’d better believe I wouldn’t have run out on a responsibility like that.”
“Didn’t you have a responsibility to me, though? You’re saying if you’d just happened to put a baby in my belly before our wedding, you might’ve shown up? News flash: I don’t want to be married to someone only because we have kids together. That’s a prescription for freaking misery.”
“I guess I’m saying everything wrong.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to talk about any of this. You’re never going to spin that situation so that you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” he said after a long lull in the conversation. “I was wrong. I was so damn wrong, Gabby, and there’s nothing I can do or say to make up for it. It was…inexcusable. Not a second goes by that I don’t regret it. I also would completely understand if you didn’t want to consider giving this another chance. But I hope you will.”
Dammit, she kind of wanted to keep railing at him, but how could she? It was everything she’d wanted to hear but never in a million years expected to. “Well…” she stammered and finally sighed. “That’s a start.” As long as he meant it.
She might as well resign herself to the inevitable. Mark would persist, and she would buckle. Her parents—especially her mother—would be soooo relieved. It was almost enough to make her vow it would never happen, but she knew better.
At least he was here, prepared to fight for her. It was more than she could say for some people.
He walked her to her front door, lingering and making small talk as she unlocked it. Obviously he was hoping for an invitation, but she couldn’t go there.
“Well,” she said when the conversation had played out, “thanks again.”
He nodded, taking the setback with good grace. But then he leaned in, and she felt the tip of his finger nudge her chin upward. She closed her eyes, her pulse accelerated, and his lips brushed hers.
And…nothing. No rush of fevered adrenaline, no desperate need to grab him and drag him into her apartment and have her way with him. As quickly as her pulse had spiked, it fell in disappointment. She did little more than tolerate his kiss until finally he drew away, smiling.
Oh no.
“Good night, Gabriella,” he said and turned to go, seeming very pleased with himself. Probably certain he’d given her something to think about.
He had, all right. Fighting tears, she went into her apartment and threw herself back against the closed door, breathing deep. She couldn’t waste any more tears on Ian Rhodes. She couldn’t. Damn him.
The deluge burst forth and streamed down her face despite all her efforts.
She hated him.
He’d already knocked on her door once, only to find she wasn’t home yet. Praying she would be eventually, he’d retreated to his bike and contemplated his next move—having no idea what it was—when the dark BMW had pulled in several spaces down.
He hadn’t wanted to watch—hell, he’d wanted to march up to them and make his presence known—but some sick need had kept him rooted to his spot, staring on helplessly as that ass**le leaned in to kiss his Gabby.