I shook my head as I walked around the bar toward her. "I can stay and walk you to your car."
She laughed. "I don't need you to do that. I've been running this bar for a long time without needing you or anyone else."
"That may be, but I'm staying. You can put me to work, or I'll just follow you around."
She let out an exasperated breath. "Why are you doing this?"
I hated the pain I heard in her voice. I stepped closer, lifting my hand to push a stray hair out of her face. She jerked back, and I felt the move like a stab in the gut.
I sighed. "I have a lot I want to tell you about what happened after I left."
"I don’t want to hear it.”
She turned, hurrying back up the hall to her office, leaving me standing alone, unsure whether I should follow her or leave her alone for good.
CHAPTERSIX
Kate
Why wouldn't he just leave me alone?
Seeing him was too aggravating and painful.
So much pain.
When I looked at him, all I could see was the man who five years ago walked into the kitchen to tell me our engagement was off and that he was going to be with Sandra instead.
I made it to my office, and relief ran through me that he took the hint and left. But by the time I got to the middle of the room, he'd reached the doorway. "Kate.”
I stopped in the middle of the room but didn't turn to look at him. “What do you want, Sam?"
"You."
Anger flowed through me. But behind it was anguish and yearning, and that made me even more angry.
I whirled around on him. "You had me, and then you tossed me aside for another woman."
He shook his head. He’d taken his patch and bandana off and run his fingers through his blond hair. “Not for her. For Chelsea."
It took me a moment to realize who Chelsea was. The baby. It was a girl. A girl he'd spoken the name of, making her real. She was probably in kindergarten now. I wondered where she and Sandra were, although not enough to ask him.
He took a step toward me. “Let me explain. I want to tell you everything."
"No." I held my hand up to stop him from moving any closer. "I don't want to hear it. It won't make any difference. You did what you did, Sam, and nothing that you say can change that. You made your choice, and now we’re both living with it."
His expression was pained. "I'm sorry." He took another step toward me, but I countered by stepping back. He let out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry."
"Is that why you're here? You want forgiveness? You want to alleviate the guilt?”
He shook his head. "What I did is unforgivable. Nothing I do will ever alleviate the guilt. That will always be there." His green eyes implored me to listen to him. “I still love you. I've always loved you. That never stopped."
I stepped back again, hitting the edge of my desk. Pain and yearning threatened to swallow me whole. I didn't want him to see me cry as the anguish from the day he left rose up as fresh and intense as the moment it happened. "You can't walk in here and say that to me. "
"Why not? It's the truth."
"Because it's cruel, Sam."
He flinched, and I saw regret and shame in his expression. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets as he let out a frustrated growl. His hands dropped to his sides. "I don't want to hurt you."