The parcel was small and he already knew what it was. The second he got back inside his office, he tore open the small bag. With fumbling fingers he tried to unfold the tissue. Its contents fell to the floor. The diamond sparkled.
Of course she wouldn’t keep it. And she’d never have sold it—she had too much integrity and pride for that. He wouldn’t have wanted her to, either. He didn’t know why he’d thought he could get away with giving it to her. But he’d wanted to give her something—but for what? Because what she’d done for him meant something? Because the time they’d shared was precious to him?
He picked it up. The sparkle mocked him. It wasn’t anyone else’s ring. He couldn’t give it to another or take it back to the jeweler. It was theirs. His gift to her. It didn’t belong on anyone else’s finger. It shouldn’t matter so much. But it did.
She’d been with that guy three years. Not with anyone else. So her plan was good—she should go to the Continent and have some fun. Live a little—a fling here and there, excitement, passion, life.
Jealous anger surged through his body, faster than his pounding pulse could cope. He didn’t want her having flings with anyone other than him. But they were heading in different directions. And her heart was still bruised by that bastard.
The return of this gift bit. He’d stuffed it up. He’d wanted her to know what an amazing, sexy woman she was. To believe in herself—in how much she should be loved. In how much he could love her.
Hell.
A cold sweat washed over him as the emotion crystallized. He could love her. As he looked around his office, he knew he would do things differently with Nina. He’d take leave, he’d find the time for her. Because she was so worth it. She was worth everything. Now, faced with the reality of never seeing her again, his entire body revolted.
He was such an idiot.
Can you really walk away from something so precious?
The ring? Yes.
Nina herself? No.
He’d known she couldn’t walk from the ring—she was too responsible to throw something of value away. But could she walk from him?
She already had. This was her final communication. She’d been hurt before and he knew she didn’t want to offer the first kiss again. He’d sidestepped her slight, shy opening this afternoon and in doing so he’d hurt her.
Why had he done that?
Because she was leaving soon and she was vulnerable. But she hadn’t believed him when he’d said he couldn’t do intimacy. It was the closest he’d come to admitting fear. And she hadn’t believed him. She’d turned it on herself—that she was the one lacking. He couldn’t let her believe that. He was the one lacking—courage. He was afraid she’d tire of him the way his last girlfriend did. That his long hours would wear her down. That she’d lose trust in him. That he wouldn’t give her enough emotionally, so she’d seek what she needed elsewhere.
He couldn’t bear that thought. Because he’d been cheated on, too. His girlfriend had been the one to throw all the accusations—but she’d been the one who cheated in the end. He knew how much it hurt. He knew how long it took to get over the betrayal.
He didn’t think he could be enough for Nina—for anyone. It had been nothing to show his physical desire, but his heart’s desire? And it was so easy to use work as his excuse not to get close.
But his own fears were no excuse for hurting her. For letting her think she was lacking something. She deserved more than that. She deserved the truth. And he’d do whatever was necessary to get her to believe it.
…
It hadn’t taken long to pack. She’d traveled over light from Canada and in the few months she’d been in London she hadn’t accrued much that she couldn’t easily replace. What she didn’t want to take with her she left for her masses of flatmates to share amongst themselves—aside from the diamond, of course. The courier company had called to confirm it had been delivered directly into his hands.
She sat on the train, her pack between her feet, trying to summon some excitement about Paris. City of Lovers? Maybe she’d skip it and go straight to Cannes and go see a depressing art house movie.
She still couldn’t believe he’d walked away without saying good-bye. She was so busy thinking, she didn’t bother following the progress of the Tube on the map above the windows—Heathrow was the last stop on the line, she wouldn’t miss it. And she wasn’t missing the flight, either.
It was crazy to think she’d originally booked the trip to escape those Canadians coming over. Now they no longer mattered a jot. She could stay and enjoy the London-in-play scene.
But she had something even bigger to escape now.
The train paused at each station and then started its run again with usual regularity. People sat silently, apart from a group of Greek tourists across from her. She hoped they weren’t about to break into a song-and-dance routine. She didn’t think she was up for it today.
But it wasn’t a live choir that suddenly interrupted the quiet airspace. Instead, some inconsiderate teen turned his headphones up too loud.
Hell, now he’d started singing. And it was old school—the Beatles, of all things. She looked up and gasped.
It wasn’t a teen. It was Eduardo—singing and dancing in her aisle with his iPhone poking out from his pocket to provide the backup track.
“I wanna hold your haaaaand,” he mangled.
“What are you..?” Her screech soon petered out, so stunned was she at the moves he was pulling. Oh my, the guy could dance—like really, really dance.
“I’m my own flashmob.” He body-popped to the beat. “Now let me hold your haaand,” he sang.
Nina clapped a hand over her mouth, but that didn’t stop her giggle as he continued. Who knew this highly cerebral medic could moon walk?
“Oh.” She pressed both hands to her face as he switched it up into some electro-moves. “Robo-man,” she squawked. A minute later, she realized her mouth was hanging open and she swallowed, her throat so dry it hurt. “Where did you learn that?”
“YouTube,” he answered, moving seamlessly into a slow-mo twist.
Despite her emotional stress, Nina was in stitches. She giggled so hard tears streamed down her face. And then the tears weren’t quite all for laughter. She sobered instantly, quickly swiping away the saltwater trails under her eyes.
“Are you going to ‘Bid me good riddance and send me packing’?” He slowed, puffing lightly, finished up with a few jazz squares as he switched off his phone.
“No!” The Greek chorus opposite answered.
“No,” she agreed with them. How could she?
“Put your cameras away.” He turned and held up his hands in front of the entire carriage full of now awfully quiet people. “This isn’t one of those staged wedding proposals that’s going up on the Internet.”
“It’s not?” Nina said with a sigh, playing up some dramatic disappointment to cover her wobbly emotions.
He span back to her, eyes flashing silver lights. “Do you want it to be?”
“No.” She shook her head and began to laugh again. What had happened? Had he taken illicit drugs or something?
“Didn’t think so.” He grinned and took the seat beside her. “Because that would be ridiculous, right? After only a week…”
“Right.” She nodded in vehement agreement. “So why are you here?”
He pulled the ring out of his pocket.
The Greeks simultaneously gasped.
“No, really,” he said to them apologetically. “It isn’t a proposal. It’s her ring already.”
“It’s his,” Nina contradicted.
“No one else can wear this ring now.” He looked back at her. “It’s yours.”
“But—”
“But me no buts,” he interrupted. “Listen.”
“You know that wasn’t Shakespeare.”
He grinned. “Many people think it was. But of course, you’d know the truth.” He leaned a fraction closer, his voice lowering. “I’m hoping you’ll quote him
properly for me again. Soon.” He glanced out the dark window as the train slowed on entering the next station. “Let’s get off to talk in private.”
She had a flight to catch and if she got off the train, she’d likely miss it. She thought for less than a second. There were a million planes zipping to France every day. She could get another later—she needed to hear what Eduardo had to say.
To her eternal amazement, her legs actually worked. Eduardo scooped up her backpack and led the way—straight to the nearest bench on the train platform. Hardly that private but at least not in view of a carriage full of attentive eavesdroppers thinking they were in on a romantic proposal.
“You’ve shrunk,” he frowned as he waited for her to sit.
“It’s the shoes.” She’d always been in heels around him—except for when she was spread-eagled on his bed. Now she was in travel trainers.
“Nina.” He sighed and sat next to her. “I know I’m your rebound guy.”
“You’re not,” she croaked. “That feels like forever ago. I was with him three years and I don’t think about him. I was with you less than two weeks and—” She bit her lip.
He smiled ruefully. “You didn’t love him?”
“I thought I did. I wanted to. I wanted to please him. To please my mother. To please everyone.” They’d all expected it.
“Maybe it’s time you pleased yourself.”
She nodded. “That was my plan.” Until he’d come along and turned her world upside down.
“You wanted to take risks, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t go.”
She stared at him.
“What’s the bigger risk,” he asked. “Walking away now and never looking back, or staying with me?”
“You walked away from me,” she pointed out. “This afternoon.” It hurt.
“And I’m so sorry about that,” he said. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “I tried to tell you, but I’m not good at talking about any…” He bent his head. “I tend to—”