What if he didn’t answer the door? Or, worse, what if he answered the door but didn’t want to talk to her? He’d told her it was over and they had no future.
What if he’d meant it?
She hammered on the door before she could change her mind, hoping he hadn’t gone for a walk because she wasn’t sure she could put herself through this a second time.
He opened the door and the sight of him, so damn handsome in dark jeans and an open-necked shirt, glued the words to her mouth. They were in there somewhere, but she just couldn’t get them out.
Dammit, why couldn’t he have had paint in his hair or dust on his jeans? But she knew it wouldn’t have made a difference because it wasn’t the outside of the man she loved, it was the inside.
“I came to say some things.”
He opened the door wider. “Good, because there are some things I’d like to say, too.”
“I need to go first.” She paced into his kitchen and turned, keeping the island between them. “When I first heard you were in Manhattan, I was terrified. I dreaded bumping into you. I thought, I really believed, that I ruined your life. No—” she saw him open his mouth and lifted her hand “—let me finish. Let me speak. If I don’t do it now, I might not be able to do it. I’m telling you how it was, that’s all. I felt guilty, and I carried that around with me, and I carried around the thoughts about what might have happened if we hadn’t lost our baby. Back then, I couldn’t tell you how I felt. I felt so bad, there was no way I was sharing that with anyone. And I was still living at home, under my father’s scrutiny, and that wasn’t a good place to be. I had no idea how to open up to anyone. Not even you, or maybe I should say especially you because I knew that you could hurt me more than anyone. I didn’t see you, or hear from you, in ten years and then suddenly there you were.”
“Slow down. You’re talking too fast.”
“This is the only way I know to get it out there. I had no idea how to handle the fact you were in Manhattan, so I did the cowardly thing, took the easy way out, and came here. And then you were here, too. It threw me.” She stooped and petted Lulu, needing the comfort. “And what threw me even more was how persistent you were, and then hearing how you’d really felt all those years ago. And I realized how much I’d lost by not talking to you. By not being honest.”
Seth stirred. “I made mistakes, too. I should have thought about how you might be feeling, what you might be thinking, but even though I knew a little about your father, I used my own upbringing, and family, as a measure. In our family we talked and shared, even when it was loud and noisy. No one ever needed to hide. And I knew you found it hard to say how you were feeling, but I didn’t know how hard. And I had no idea what was going on in your head. If I’d known—”
“Let’s not do ifs. Let’s admit we made mistakes. And the important thing, and the reason I’m here—” she swallowed “—is that I don’t want to make that mistake again. This time I want to spell it out, so we both know. So there is no mistake. You want the ninety percent—I’m giving you a hundred. I’m telling you exactly how I’m feeling so that there is no misunderstanding.”
He paused. “So tell me.”
“I feel like crap, Seth. We’ve spent an amazing summer, we’ve laughed and yes, you made me fall in love with you, dammit, or maybe I never fell out of love, I don’t know—” She felt Lulu pull away from her and slink across the kitchen. She didn’t blame the dog for wanting to get away from all the emotion. She did, too. She was confused, mixed up and dizzy with love, but her overriding emotion was terror. “I thought it was all going great, I exposed my heart to you—”
“You didn’t. You didn’t expose your heart. You protected it.”
“I exposed my heart. Maybe I didn’t say the words, but I showed you. You knew. You saw. And then when I was about to tell you, you were called out. And that was all fine. But then Vanessa called, and she told me how badly I’d hurt you—”
“She shouldn’t—”
“No—” She raised her hand. “She was right to call me. She was protecting you, and I understand why she would do that. But up until that moment I hadn’t really thought about how what happened affected you. I thought you married me because of the baby, so it didn’t occur to me that you might be going through the same agony I was going through. And when Vanessa told me how it was, I felt terrible. So guilty. Just horrid that I’d done that to you. I had a little emotional crisis.” She paced toward L
ulu, who backed under the kitchen table, knowing danger when she saw it. “I knew I never, ever wanted to hurt you again, and right then I lost all confidence in my ability to be the person you need me to be.”
“Fliss—”
“It wasn’t opening up and telling you things that made me vulnerable, it was opening up and loving you. That was the part that scared me. I was a crab without a shell, an armadillo without the armor. And it scared me so much that for a while there I wasn’t sure I could handle it. And I knew that if I couldn’t handle it, then you were gong to get hurt. And I thought maybe you’d be better off with someone like Vanessa’s friend Naomi.”
There was a pause. A silence and then he breathed.
“Can I talk now?”
Part of her wanted to just leave, but she remembered what Harriet had said about hearing him out. About knowing. So she’d listen. And then she’d know. Then she’d walk away. Then she’d fall apart.
She could get through another half hour, if that’s what it took, although she might have holes in her palms from the way she was digging her nails into her own flesh.
“First, I’m not interested in Naomi. It’s true that over the years she spent a lot of time at our house, she’s Vanessa’s closest friend, and yes, she and I were together for a while. She’s a good person. Not hard to like.”
Fliss shot to her feet. “You see? She’s perfect for you.”
“Sit down.”
“She sounds like a sweet woman.”
“And when have you ever seen me eat dessert?”