“Bobbi,” he said stonily.
Okay, his mood didn’t look promising and his tone of voice left a lot to be desired but…
Wait. Was that an earring?
Bobbi’s fisted hand flew to her chest and she hoped the weird noise she heard hadn’t actually come from her mouth. She tried her best to keep the smile she had pasted to her face when she’d opened the door. And it was a chore. She wanted to frown in horror as her eyes crept back to—good god, there wasn’t just one earring—there were two. And they weren’t studs. They were hoops.
Gerald—the man who thought wearing jeans to work on Fridays was slumming it—had hoops in his ears. Gold hoops and not the delicate sort either. Ugh. They didn’t belong on any man in his thirties, unless his name started with Jon and ended with Jovi.
“Come in,” she managed to say and stepped aside to give him room.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Oh,” Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Gerald never used slang. Ever.
Her eyes moved over his tall form.
And he certainly never wore jeans that had holes in the knees.
Her eyes moved higher.
Or a leather jacket that looked more suited to a motorcycle than winter in New Waterford.
Alarm bells rang in her head and she tried desperately to swallow the huge lump in her throat.
And he certainly didn’t run around with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Definitely not without an undershirt.
“Are you sure you don’t want to…”
But he was already shaking his head. “No. I just came to get my ring.”
“Your ring,” Bobbi repeated. Okay, this wasn’t going the way she had envisioned at all. “Gerald, honey, don’t you think we should talk about,” she swallowed nervously, “About what happened?”
His eyes hardened as he stared down at her in silence. Gerald was kind and gentle and kind and…
His glare deepened and so did her discomfort. Christ, the man’s favorite movie was March of the freaking Penguins. What had she done to him?
“Please, Gerald. You have to let me explain. Let me apologize.” She knew she sounded desperate but suddenly she didn’t care. Gerald was part of her life plan and she couldn’t let him slip away.
She had made a mistake dammit, and she was willing to do whatever it took to make amends. She had to make him see that.
“Please, Gerald.” She reached for him but he moved back, his lips screwed up in distaste.
“What’s there to talk about? You didn’t show up for our wedding. There is nothing else to say.”
Bobbi’s stomach twisted painfully and for a moment she was lightheaded. She blew out a long breath as she stared at the man she’d expected to, well, she hadn’t expected him to welcome her back with open arms, but certainly she’d envisioned a calm conversation ending with Gerald accepting her heartfelt apology for what she’d put him through and for the two of them to move on.
Her life—the perfect, serene life—the one with the white picket fence, two golden retrievers, maybe a cat, and definitely no worries, was crumbling in front of her and the panic mice were starti
ng to nibble at her feet. “Gerald, I’m so sorry for what I put you through. You have to believe me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did,” he said roughly. He ran his hands through the thick mess of hair on his head, though Bobbi looked away when he got his fingers caught in the gelled waves and he had to work to extract them.
“I made a mistake. I want to work through this Gerald,” she tried again softly, hoping the underlying panic she felt wasn’t seeping through.
“Last week I wanted to hear that. When I was standing at the front of St. Paul’s fucking church—”
Bobbi winced. She couldn’t recall ever hearing Gerald swear.