If he’d had any hope of reaching her soft side, he could probably kiss that goodbye. And it would be the only thing he’d be kissing anytime soon.
“Is that it, then?” she asked, standing there with bare feet in the doorway. “You just checking up on me?” She paused, but before he could figure out how to get through to her, she started in again. “Fine. I failed the test. And you’re right. I should have looked. I’d just hung up with Gabi and I know she doesn’t like that I’m down here alone. But as I told her, I’m fine. And from now on I’ll check my peephole. I am well aware of the danger lurking right outside our door.”
He could see the table to the right behind her. Part of it anyway. The big stainless-steel bowl she used to make salads was on the edge. As though she’d set it down on her way to answer the door.
She hadn’t eaten yet.
“I didn’t come to test your peephole compliance.”
She stood back, leaving the door open for him to enter. She picked up the salad bowl and returned to the kitchen.
Was this it, then? Their marriage was over? There wasn’t going to be a second chance? Or even a cooling-down period before they ended things?
He wasn’t ready to collect his luggage, but accepted the invitation to enter her domain, closing the door behind him.
The only thing dirty in the kitchen was the cutting board and the knife still on the counter. No plates or silverware. As he’d thought, she hadn’t eaten yet. But was reaching for the plastic wrap.
“I’d sure love some of that salad.” The burger he’d eaten earlier was sitting like a rock in his stomach. But he wanted her to eat. Wanted to eat with her. Like the family they’d been for those few idyllic days.
Marie looked at him as if she couldn’t believe what he was asking. Then she shrugged and took down two plates. She filled them both with Caesar salad, grabbed a couple of forks and carried it all to the table. Elliott fetched a couple of bottles of water and joined her.
Feeling...better. She was sharing her dinner with him. Life hadn’t ended yet.
* * *
MARIE WAS HUNGRY, so she ate. It was nice, not being alone. Having another body in her space. But she couldn’t talk to Elliott. She had some things to work out within herself first.
The salad was probably good. It filled her.
“Gabi tells me you’re spending your time up there alone in your room.”
“I am.”
He’d cleaned his plate. But was reaching for more as he usually did.
“I just wanted you to know that I don’t have a problem with you and them being friends. Not that I have any say one way or the other, but...”
He looked straight at her. “Of course you have a say. With me. And I’m certain with Liam and Gabi, too.”
In fairness, he was right. If she went upstairs and told Liam that she couldn’t handle having Elliott around, even if he kept out of her coffee shop, Liam would find another man to protect them.
“Anyway, it’s fine.”
He nodded. Carried his plate and hers to the kitchen. Towering over her sink, he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. In the same places she’d have put them. He moved with a grace that reached out to her and she remembered the feel of those capable hands holding her close.
He had to go. She didn’t want him to leave. She needed to be alone. To figure out what she needed and was capable of giving.
Drying his hands, he turned to face her, leaning back against the cupboard. “I’m sorry.”
Her throat tightened and she couldn’t speak. She nodded.
“I was in Las Vegas, and I took a gamble. A bad one. But I need you to understand—I hope you can understand, for your sake as much as anything—that I’m not a bad guy. You didn’t place your faith erroneously, Marie.”
Was he trying to save himself? Or her? She was confused. And, leaning against the counter opposite him, she crossed her arms.
“Your mother and I talked, in the vestibule, right before she got married...”
“That’s where she was? When she said she’d pulled a thread.”