“Go get seated and I’ll bring you a drink. Sancerre?”
“Sounds great.”
As she approached the bar, Richard noticed her, pushing himself up from the stool to stand. The sleeves of his shirt were slightly crumpled, and she couldn’t help but look at the way his forearms emerged from the rolled up cuffs, all warm skin and golden hair, the lines of his tendons firm and clear.
Memories of rough hands and soft lips assaulted her mind as she inhaled deeply. Just one step further and her face would be against his chest. She had to scrape her scant nails against her palms to stop herself from doing it.
“Can I get you a drink?” Richard asked, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. It was barely a second of contact, but it was enough to make her feel like she was on fire.
This was such a bad idea.
Why had she ever thought she could handle this? Hanna had seen this as a chance to redeem herself, a way to apologize to him for her disappearing act. She wanted to wish him well for his future with Meredith, but instead she was transported back in time, to those golden months when their lust had exploded, before her mother’s illness had ripped her heart in two.
“Elaine’s bringing me one over. Shall we sit down?” She managed to keep her voice nice and even. Perhaps if she played the part of a friend, her mind would eventually catch up.
They walked to the table, Hanna leading the way, and without him in her eye line she managed to regain a little equilibrium. It lasted for all of two seconds, until they were seated at the small bistro table, the warm glow of the candle reflecting off their faces.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been here before,” Richard said, lifting the paper menu from the table and glancing at it. “It seems a nice place, though.”
“I thought you must know it, since it’s only a few blocks from your dad’s apartment.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of his beer before glancing up from the menu. “I guess we must have missed this one. Do they do breakfast?”
“I think so. I don’t really eat before lunch, so I’ve never asked.”
“I remember.” He grinned wryly, and she thought her heart was going to stop.
“I never really got to apologize to you,” she babbled, trying to find a way to fill their empty conversation. “About the letter. And me leaving.”
His smile dropped. He placed the menu carefully back down on the table, smoothing the wrinkles with his palm. Looking back up at her, his face was a picture of calm. “You want to talk about that?”
She nodded. Even if they never saw each other again—and with her stupidity and faux pas it was a distinct possibility—she wanted to offer him the one thing she had left. Her regret.
“I want you to know I appreciate everything you did for me. When mum was so ill, you were the only one who kept me going. I know they say you hurt the ones who love you most, but it’s no excuse for me upping and leaving.” She ran her fingers nervously around her wine glass, smoothing out the beads of condensation. “If it’s any consolation, and I’m sure it isn’t, I pretty much want to kick my own ass for what I did.”
His responding laugh was light. “I’m not sure I come out of this with a gold medal. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the way I treated you at Nathan’s wedding. I don’t usually get violent in bathrooms.”
A brief vision of a tiled floor covered with glass. “I pretty much deserved that, too.”
“You’re being hard on yourself; I’ve come to terms with it all. What’s done is done, and hopefully we’ve both come out of it a little wiser.”
His magnanimity cut her to the quick. Either he was truly over it, in which case she should be happy he’d moved on, or he was a damn fine actor.
“Tell me about Australia.”
She smiled at his attempt to change the subject, deciding to take the proffered olive branch. “It seems such a strange time, like remembering a Christmas when you were a small child. When I look back, it’s like I’m seeing someone else, a different me, who took over my life for a while.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I have multiple personality disorder or something.”
“Did you keep in touch with anybody?” His words were light, but she glanced up to see if his eyes were giving anything away. They weren’t.
“Ruby, of course, and I had to keep in contact with Jamie and Natalie for work reasons. I met up with Tom and the band once, when they played in Sydney, but that was a clusterfuck. I ended up getting drunk and crying all night, and they were too scared to let me go home. They thought I might do something stupid.”
Something flashed in Richard’s eyes, and she tried to define it, wondering if it was a trick of the candlelight. Taking a sip of the wine Elaine had given her, she continued. “It took me a while to realize you can’t outrun depression, and eventually I knew I needed to go home. I was putting off the inevitable. There’s a certain comfort in being with the ones you love.”
She glanced at him nervously, embarrassed at her own words. He must have been thinking them through as much as she was. He held her stare for a moment too long.
Sensing his discomfort, she changed the subject. “So, tell me about Meredith, she seems like a lovely girl.”
“She is.” He agreed, the tenseness of his facial muscles belying his unease. “We met at an art exhibition.”