She’d come to welcome the sharp pain in the region of her heart. Pain reminding her that she hadn’t imagined the Shane August who was warm and open, regardless of how disengaged he’d become. Crickitt knew what she felt for him and what she’d had with him was as real as it got. Every heart-wrenching, beautiful, soul-stealing minute of it.
And if she stayed broken for months, years, then she’d accept it. At least until she found someone to fill in the break left there by Shane.
She turned into her apartment complex, trying fruitlessly to picture another man at her side. But they all had Shane’s amber eyes, dark tumble of hair, and corded, strong arms. Tears threatened again and she swallowed them down. Someone would have to fill the role someday…eventually. That’s what people did when relationships ended. Dusted themselves off, got out there, and tried again. At one point in her life she couldn’t imagine being with anyone other than Ronald, and now look at her.
“Yeah, look at me,” she said, misery evident in her toneless voice. “Oh, my gosh.” The car jerked beneath her as she stepped on the brakes with too much force.
There, in her numbered spot, was a gleaming black Porsche.
Shane.
Hands shaking uncontrollably, Crickitt maneuvered her car into the guest spot next to it, her mind whirring. What was he doing here? He couldn’t see her like this, desperate, pining for him. Did she even still have makeup on? She reached for her visor to check her reflection, then froze in place as she spotted him.
His long frame filled her doorway as he stood sentinel in a pair of casual cargo shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes, keeping her from seeing the love for her that wasn’t there.
On unsteady feet, she stepped from the car, forcing herself to stand straight. She couldn’t have him here. This was her house, her sanctuary, the only place she went that wasn’t marinating in Shane-themed memories.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said as she made her way to her apartment.
“I didn’t realize I was on the clock,” she snapped at her reflection, irritated she couldn’t see his eyes.
“I needed you today.”
I needed you, too.
“I’ll be at work tomorrow,” she said, making a show of finding her house key on the chain in her hand. “I can help you then.”
She tried to step up to the door, but one tanned, sinewy arm launched out in front of her, successfully blocking the way. “I didn’t mean at work.”
She meant to pretend not to hear him. Instead, she faced him and found his sunglasses perched on top of his head, his golden eyes expressive instead of flat. And, oh, what she saw there made her unable to look away. The pain, so prevalent the last time she saw him, had vanished. His eyes were bright, clear, and there was something else, too. Something she refused to acknowledge.
“Brought you a gift from Mexico,” he said. A small wrapped box appeared in his palm.
“Mexico?” Crickitt asked, focusing on his words rather than the box in front of her face. “You flew?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled, making a face at the same time. “Here, open it.”
It was a simple gold foil box with a bow, but it may well have been cloaked in barbed wire and poisoned dart tips. Whatever was in there wouldn’t fix anything. It couldn’t. Could it?
“What is it?” she asked, stalling.
“Something to complete…”
Don’t say me.
“…your collection.”
She should hand it back. Thrust it into his chest and state, unequivocally, that she was moving on. If she had any hope at all of getting their relationship back on a professional plane, then he couldn’t show up at her apartment…
She watched as she took the box from his hand, seemingly powerless to stop herself.
What had she been saying? Oh, right, apartment. He couldn’t show up at her apartment…
Her fingers tugged the cream-colored ribbon tying the box closed.
…looking all tanned and sexy, and…
She wiggled the lid and started to lift it.
…smelling amazing…
She lifted the lid.
A porcelain monkey stared up at her with wide eyes, both hands covering his mouth.
Words failed her as her brain stalled. She plucked the tiny primate from the box, rolling him between her fingers and trying to tamp down the hope that bloomed against her breastbone. Dangerous, terrifying hope.
Shane stepped closer, absolutely choking out the air around her that she desperately needed. She sucked in a breath on a gasp. “Crickitt?”