No. She wasn’t going to do that anymore. She had a lot going for her. Exceptional hair. Good brain, when it wasn’t stuffed with stupid insecurities and bad habits. Apparently she even had a willingness to admit she was wrong. So wrong.
It wasn’t her decision to make. He was an adult. If he wanted to walk, she would let him. But she sure as hell wouldn’t push him out because she couldn’t stand the idea of him realizing he needed to go first.
If she truly cared about him as much as she said, she wouldn’t shove him away with both hands—she’d let the choice be his. As it was hers.
By fuck, she was choosing him.
She gripped the wheel in one hand and flipped on her turn signal. She hadn’t been gone that long. After making her excuses to the remaining partygoers, she’d try to explain her mindset to Michael. She’d also apologize. A lot.
Halfway back, she stopped at a light then stepped on the pedal when it changed. Only when the engine sputtered and clunked to a stop did she see the glowing gas pump symbol on her dash. Perfect. She’d forgotten to fill her tank. Didn’t that figure?
Looking up, she narrowed her eyes on the rain slipping slowly down her windshield. She reached for her purse before recalling that she hadn’t brought it with her on her flight from the house. Which meant she also didn’t have her cell phone.
She rotated her ankle, remembering the skyscraper heels she’d chosen to go with her dress. Looked like she’d have to work to make it back to Michael.
He was worth it.
Michael rejoined the party in the living room, his polite smile back in place. It was the smile he’d used on Casey when she’d tried to wrap her arms around his neck, all playful sensuality. She’d been halfway to drunk and probably not even entirely aware of who she was hitting on. He’d known that. Kim hadn’t. Then again, she hadn’t asked. She wouldn’t have, because she’d taken the awkward moment she’d walked in on as an excuse to leave him.
Nothing lasted forever. He knew that better than most. Not even when it felt so right that every moment without her seemed wrong in comparison.
Standing in Kim’s living room when she wasn’t there rubbed him raw, bringing forth a rare violence inside him. He ached to sweep his arm over the mantle and send the family heirlooms flying. Just crack them to pieces. This wasn’t his home. What did he care? She’d walked out and left him. Worse, she’d acted as if he was too stupid to know his own mind and heart.
Did she think he saw her as a new version of Rochelle? Could she be that foolish? They were miles from each other in every way.
He bunched his fists and closed his eyes, fighting his emotions back in line. As much as he wanted to get out of there, he couldn’t. A few stragglers remained and the owners of the house weren’t in residence. Someone had to be responsible. Sara’s mother shouldn’t be left to handle the reception she’d attended as a guest. That wasn’t how family should be treated. Since Kim wasn’t around, he’d do what needed to be done in her stead.
Because it was the right thing to do.
And because he loved her, timeline be damned.
So what if they’d only known each other a few weeks? That number was no different than the years that separated them. He’d been on his own too much to search for reasons to shut her out. He’d rather seek ways to let her in.
When the last of the guests had been ushered out and Mrs. Carmichael had disappeared into her bedroom upstairs, Michael took a step he wished he didn’t have to. He didn’t have any fucking choice. Only one person knew Kim all the way down to the ground. Even Sara wouldn’t have the same knowledge.
He called Brad. On his honeymoon. At one thirty in the morning. Worry for Kim superseded any concerns he had about bothering his boss. She was more important.
After Michael brought him up to speed on Kim taking off mid-party, Brad yawned. Loudly. “Let me guess. She gave you some speech about you not being to blame? It’s not you, it’s me type stuff?”
Michael frowned. “No, not really.”
“Huh. Okay. Did she tell you that she wasn’t ready to settle down?”
“Nope.”
Brad made a noise in his throat. “All right, what did she say?”
Michael ran through the kitchen conversation as quickly as possible.
Brad made more thoughtful noises. Then he sighed. “Sorry, bro. My sister has officially flipped the script. We’re in new territory for the Kiminator.”
“Maybe you calling her that doesn’t help. She’s more sensitive than she lets on. You acting like her emotions don’t make sense probably only makes her react more strongly.”
And you said she was being ridiculous. Dick move much?
Brad was quiet for a while. “You might be right,” he said finally.
“I did the same thing. I belittled her feelings.” Michael rubbed his forehead. “So what do I do now?”